Thank you for reading! It really means so much to have the support y'all are giving me!
Also, if you need a little refresher about Bella's shitty parents (lol), they were previously mentioned in detail in chapter 7!
28
- where do we go now? -
Bella POV
I'm exhausted.
I should sleep, but I don't because I don't want that momentary memory lapse that comes with waking up in the morning when everything feels perfect.
I don't think I'd survive that.
I don't want to pass out only to wake up in my husband's arms and convince myself for even a second that things are okay because they're not.
We're not okay.
My heart feels tender; torn. Toxic.
This isn't what I wanted for my marriage. My life. I doubt this is what he wanted, either.
I know I've made mistakes. I know unresolved issues in my past have tried to dictate my future. And I've let them. I can admit that. I want to work on that.
But right now, happiness feels so far away.
It feels like Edward and I are still drowning.
Maybe at some point during the last two days, our heads were above water, but we're still being dragged under by our mutual pain and misery.
I'm still so mad, so hurt. So confused.
For as much as I'm hurting, though, I allow myself to lie here in his arms. I let him hold me, breathe me in. I let his mouth brush my temple and I let him soothe me.
It's like second nature to him, this comfort he brings me.
But then I'm reminded that in this moment I only need comfort because he lied, and the instinct to pull away from him rises.
I don't, though. I savor his touch because I don't know when, or if, this will happen again.
In the morning, things will be different.
I don't know how yet, I just know they need to be different.
I try to shift a little, but with Edward lying behind me, his grip tightens.
I think he's waiting for me to fall asleep first. Like maybe he wants to make sure I'm okay. Or maybe he wants to make sure I don't leave. That thought makes me want to cry, but I don't. I hold in my tears, and I lie here unmoving until his breathing deepens and he sleeps.
Once he does, I open my eyes and stare at the wall for minutes, hours. I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
Mentally and emotionally, he has to be tired.
I am, too.
I don't know if I have it in me anymore, so how can he?
I can't stop thinking about what he did.
If I had known he slept with someone else, I wouldn't have been intimate with him yet.
I would have needed to ease into it.
I would have needed more time.
More reassurances of his so-called love.
But he took that choice from me when he withheld that information.
When I asked him if he was ever going to tell me about Kim and he said he didn't know, I did appreciate his honesty. Ultimately, I think with time and many, many conversations I would have been able to get over the act itself. But I just don't know how I can get past hearing he was probably never going to tell me.
Yeah, he said being with Kim meant nothing to him, but it meant something to me.
The thought of him sleeping next to me every night for the rest of our lives with that secret makes me sick to my stomach.
It makes me feel like I never knew him.
If I let him get away with this, what else will he try to get away with? Is this how it started with my parents? I don't know. I don't want to know or find out the hard way.
His words from earlier echo loud in my mind.
You wanted it to happen before, what's one more time?
My eyes burn and tears escape onto my pillow.
Even when I filed for divorce last year, things never felt this final.
Back then, I wanted him to react.
I wanted him to come after me.
Find me, want me, love me.
Now I don't know what I want.
All I know is that we need space so we can finally catch our breath.
All I know is that I can't be here when he wakes up.
I don't want to see his face when he realizes I'm done.
I don't want to hear his pleas and his excuses. Or worse—his defensiveness of why he did what he did. Why he felt justified to hurt me.
He'll thank me one day, I think. Not yet. Not anytime soon. But one day when he looks back on our marriage with hindsight and a healed heart, he'll see this wasn't working.
He'll recognize that love isn't enough.
He'll see I wasn't my best self for him. And if he was ever his best self for me, he'll see that I ruined him. I can take responsibility for that.
But maybe he'll also recognize that for as broken as I am, it takes strength to do what I'm doing.
It takes strength to break this cycle.
To leave his arms.
To get out of this bed.
It's one of the most painful things I've ever done, but I grab the divorce papers and leave them on my pillow so it's the first thing he sees when he wakes up.
The message will be loud and clear—this marriage isn't working.
We can break it, or it can break us.
But right now, I'm not healthy, and he's not an honest man.
We both deserve more.
XXX
I quietly and quickly get ready, grab my camera gear, and head to ESPN to pick up my car.
I have a wedding to shoot today.
In the backseat of the Uber, I close my eyes. I'm not drunk, not quite sober, and not yet hungover. I don't know what I am, but I'm definitely feeling the pain from not sleeping.
I'm not sure how well I'll be able to focus today, but this work obligation is also a welcome distraction from my crumbling life.
The Uber slows, and I open my eyes, finding we've hit some traffic.
I stare at my phone and wonder if Edward is awake yet.
I don't want to think about his reaction when he finds the papers.
I don't want to think about how he'll feel or if he'll cry.
I know that's selfish of me, but if I think about it too much I won't be able to focus, and people hired me and expect me to be on. Professional. To capture their happiest day.
Since Edward hasn't reached out yet, I decide to turn off my phone before he can. I want to give my clients undivided attention today, and if I read a text or receive a call from Edward before I start working, it's all I'll dwell on.
Before I cut off the only contact he has with me, both guilt and love guide me to text him.
Bella: I'm not running. I'm working. But please leave my place before I get home later tonight. I'm sorry for leaving the papers… I really do love you. That's why this hurts so much.
I hit send before I can stop myself and then turn off my phone, so not ready to take on the day.
After picking up my vehicle, I use my car's GPS and head outside of the city to photograph the bride and her bridesmaids getting ready at her parent's house.
Peter's waiting for me when I get there, holding two coffees and wearing a soft smile.
I don't smile back.
With everything happening between Edward and me, I forgot to tell Peter I wouldn't need his help today. But maybe that's for the best because it turns out that I'll probably need him after all.
It's annoying how quickly things can change.
"Hey," I greet him, getting out of the car.
"Might rain," he says, looking up at the hovering clouds. "Good luck for the couple, I guess."
I glance up at the dark sky that matches my heart.
I think of my and Edward's wedding on the top floor of the Columbia Tower—the tallest building in Seattle for what felt like the biggest, most overwhelming love.
It was intimate. Classy. Romantic. Panoramic views of mountains, city lights, and the Sound surrounded us, along with fifty of our closest friends and family.
We booked the first venue we saw.
Hired the first florist we found.
The first dress I tried on was the one, too.
We got engaged quickly, got married even faster, and where was the fire? Did we act too soon? I thought we were just decisive and ready to be married, but was it something else? I had his last name before we had known each other for a year.
It felt right.
Now I'm doubting everything.
Peter hands me my coffee, eyeing me. "You okay?"
"Long night."
Long forty-eight hours.
"Ah." He nods like he gets it but he has no idea. "What'd you do?"
Reconciled my marriage only to have it end again.
I decide to tell Peter the truth.
No more living a lie. A half-life.
"Look, I'm… married, Peter."
He frowns at my abrupt honesty. "You're… wait, what?"
"My husband and I were having problems, and we were separated for the last year. I didn't tell you because... I don't know. I didn't tell anyone," I sigh. "If I led you on, I didn't mean to, and I'm sorry about that. You've been my only friend here, and I've appreciated your friendship and help so much. Seriously."
I suddenly feel emotional, but I rein it in. The last two days have taken a toll on my emotions and I need to keep them in check for the next ten hours. I need to get through this wedding.
"You're married," he states, stunned.
I can see the wheels turning in his head like maybe my distance and unwillingness to date him makes sense now. Never mind the fact that he isn't my type, even if I were single I wouldn't be interested. But I keep that to myself.
"Yeah, I am." I'm also likely on the verge of divorcing but… yeah. For now, I'm still married. "Edward moved here a couple of weeks ago. He's… yeah. He's in LA now."
Peter clears his throat, still at a loss, and sips his coffee. "Wow. All right. Um… are you okay?"
It's the best and worst thing he could've asked.
I set my coffee on the roof of my car to unload my things and tell him with brutal honesty, "No. I haven't been okay in a very long time."
XXX
Witnessing love from behind the lens takes a toll on me like it usually does.
Around two, I start to feel hungover which worsens my emotional state. I have to step away a few times. I'm fast and never take long. Just a quick cry when no one is looking and then I'm back at it.
Peter looks worried. He's checked in on me a few times, but I shrug it off, determined to get through the day.
Near the end of the wedding, I turn on my phone.
After a minute, I get a series of texts, all sent at different hours.
Edward: Where are you?
Edward: I'm sorry I hurt you. But please don't do this.
Edward: I love you. I'll give you space for now, but I'm hurting, too.
Yeah, he's hurting, but it's in a different way.
He doesn't know what it's like to feel betrayed the way I have.
He doesn't have images and thoughts of me with another man.
But maybe that wouldn't break him like it did me. Maybe his heart could take it. He's built differently. Was raised differently. With unconditional love and support. And I had nothing.
I have nothing.
I feel tears coming on, but the DJ announces the sparkler exit will be soon, so Peter and I get set up for that.
During the bride and groom's glittering departure, I think of my own wedding again.
Edward and I didn't have sparklers burning or rice thrown when we left—we had drama.
Not between us, but my family.
As I was saying bye to my parents, my mother decided that was the time to express her drunken disappointment that I didn't have Maggie—Charlie's other daughter—as one of my bridesmaids.
I tried shutting down the conversation by simply telling Renee I wasn't going to talk about that, but then she loudly told me I was punishing Maggie when I should've been mad at my father.
Renee was wrong, though. I was mad, but not with Maggie. I was mad at them.
But I wasn't going to make a scene at my own wedding. Not when we'd made it that far into the night without any drama occurring.
My mother started to go off again, but Charlie roughly squeezed her elbow, muttering enough in her ear.
Nearby, Edward caught my eye and quickly saved the moment by stepping in and handing Renee water. My dad dropped her elbow then, letting her go. The air was thick with unresolved tension, but Edward thanked Renee and Charlie again for their help and for being there. My mom ate up Edward's graciousness saying, of course, they'd be there. Of course, they loved helping. Edward and I shared a brief look because we both knew my parents were barely involved with the wedding.
With the conversation shifted, tension slowly faded. Edward was a pro at smoothing things over. He was good at stepping in and saving me. He was already so good at being my partner, my protector. My husband.
Before my parents left, Charlie clapped Edward on the back and joked, "I don't have any advice, but you sure you're ready for this marriage? Gonna have your hands full with Bella."
I'll never forget the deadly protective way Edward looked my father square in the eyes, or the serious bite in his tone when he said, "Don't worry, Charlie. She's in good hands now."
XXX
When the wedding is over, Peter and I pack up.
He waits beside my car until I'm done.
Different vehicles pull out of the gravel lot of the venue, their headlights shining on us as they pass by.
"So, a few of my friends are going out, and I'd invite you but…" he starts to say, smiling a little. He seems nervous.
"That's okay. Thanks, anyway," I say.
"I figured. I'll see you next weekend for the Wilson wedding, though?"
Things between us feel so awkward. "Honestly, I don't know if we need to work together anymore. I've loved your help but… yeah."
The corner of his mouth lifts a little. "I thought you might say that, too."
"Did you?"
He shrugs, kicking at the dirt. "Call it a vibe."
"Yeah."
"Look, if you need anything… like… ever," he starts to say, but I wave him off.
"You're being too nice. It's okay."
Headlights briefly shine on his face and I see how sincere he's being. "Really, though. Call me."
I won't, but I say, "I will."
He steps forward, and we hug.
It's nice.
Friendly.
I try to let myself feel something. Anything. Edward says he felt nothing with Kim, but how did he do what did? I feel absolutely nothing other than friendship with Peter, and no part of me wants to sleep with him.
Before we pull away he murmurs, "I hope you get whatever you want. Hope you're okay."
"You too," I tell him. I mean it.
Once I'm alone in my car, I feel so fucking sad. I've had the wedding to distract me the entire day. I've been surrounded by people and now that there's silence, it's so depressing.
I turn music on to distract me, to keep me alert while driving.
I'm already wondering if I have anything to drink back at my place. I think I almost finished what was left of the whiskey last night, but maybe I can stop at the store on my way home.
I tell myself I'm not falling into old patterns, but I know I am.
That's why instead of going to the store, I pass by and just drive to my house.
If I'm being honest, something is telling me to go home.
Like Peter would say, call it a vibe, I guess.
I don't know.
My instinct tells me Edward might still be there, waiting.
It's stupid, I shouldn't want that for him. For him to be waiting around all day for me.
But I confusingly and selfishly want that for me.
The house is dark when I pull up, with no lights on inside at all, and any small amount of hope I had is gone.
I remind myself this is good. Boundaries are good. I asked Edward to do something and he listened.
So why the fuck do I feel so sad?
With my gear in my arms, I struggle to unlock the front door before walking into an empty, lonely house.
I leave my stuff on the couch and immediately walk into the kitchen to look for something to drink. I find an almost empty bottle of whiskey, some white wine in the fridge, and a just-opened bottle of tequila in the cupboard that I forgot I bought last week. I don't pour a glass. I don't drink anything. I just want to know it's there.
I move into the bedroom then. Flipping on the light, I find the divorce papers still on my pillow where I left them.
Like they're untouched.
Like Edward couldn't even bring himself to move them.
Sitting on the side of the bed he slept on, I reach for them.
I don't know why he left them here or what it means.
Is he giving up?
Is he fighting?
What do I really want?
My fingers brush over the words he wrote in place of his signature two days ago.
This isn't over
Isn't it, though?
I'm feeling pathetic.
I'm drained after the day.
The last year.
I want to cry.
I want to bury my face in the pillow he laid on last night.
I want to call him.
I don't do anything, though, because I hear the distinct muted sound of a car door closing.
It puts me on alert.
A minute later, I hear a tentative, soft knock on my front door.
I'm almost certain it's Edward. I don't have anyone else here. No other support. No other person would show up at my house at ten o'clock at night.
I leave the papers on the bed, rush through the house, and open the door.
Only it's not Edward standing on my porch.
It's Allie.