A/N

Apologies for the delay. Life … ugh.

Here is a peek inside Edward's head. I'm sorry it's not longer. He's been rambling, and I thought it best to split it up into multiple chapters.

Remember, he's human and flawed. He's a mess! He's still trying to figure out what he's doing and feeling.

Thanks for sticking with me and sending me to the second round of the Twi Fic Fandom Awards for favorite newbie author of 2022! Maybe I'm doing something right!

S. Meyer owns all things, Twilight.

Chapter 8

EPOV

Staring over the skyline, I remember when this city permeated my soul. I loved the streets filled with vendors, the tourists, the hot pavement under my feet in the summer, and the quiet hush of Central Park when it snowed. I loved every pulsating, magical thing about New York —especially the possibilities. There were always so many. But that feeling is gone now, and I'm not exactly sure when that happened.

Taking a drag from my cigarette, I ignore the guilt that arises from succumbing to this old vice. I didn't even slip when Riley died. But tonight, I needed a smoke.

"Edward?"

Her voice is soft, and when I turn from the balcony's railing, I see her silhouetted form in the doorway. The white linen curtains brush against the hardwood floor at her feet.

"Coming," I say as I crush the butt against the sole of my shoe. The embers spark and fly away with the night wind, taking long-forgotten possibilities with them.

"Coming, Kate," I say. "I'll be right in."

~!~

Three Days Earlier …

The sound of a car horn fills the showroom, and I look over my shoulder at Rose, who is giving me a stern look through the glass wall of the sales office. Turning back, my gaze moves past the window sticker, and I look at George and Henry, who are in the front seats.

"Sorry, Uncle E!" Henry says as he pulls George's hands from the steering wheel. "Tell mom not to lose her shit."

"Too late," I mutter before sliding into the back.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"I like the green one," George says.

"Yeah," I say. "The green one's nice. But the blue one's pretty cool, too, don't you think?"

Henry nods and opens the glove compartment before moving the seat up and back.

"It feels roomier than the BMW," he says. "I like it."

There's a tap on the window, and we all turn to see Rose, bent at the waist, looking in.

"Sowwy, mom!" George says, and his face breaks into an adorable smile.

It's impossible to be mad at that kid.

"That's our cue, guys," I say. "Let's go get a gaming chair."

We pile out of the car, and George raises his arms. Rose leans down to pick him up, and after resting him on her hip, she kisses his cheek.

"It'll be ready in about an hour," she says. "We can go get Henry's chair and then come back and pick it up."

I nod, and we walk to the front of the dealership before I hold the door open for them. When the boys are in the back of my Volvo, I shut their door and look up to see Rose watching me over the car's roof.

Her voice is quiet. "Thanks for coming, Edward."

I place my hand on the door handle. "I'm sorry it took so long. We should have done this weeks ago."

She pauses and looks off into the distance before bringing her gaze back to me. "I appreciate everything you're doing for us. I don't tell you that enough."

I regard her, knowing that was probably difficult for her to say. "I'm glad I'm here. I hope it's what Riley would have wanted."

She doesn't respond but opens the door and arranges herself in the passenger seat.

"Who's ready to go to Costco?" I say as I settle in behind the wheel.

"We are!" The boys say in unison.

I put the car in gear before glancing at Rose. She looks straight ahead through the windshield, her armor firmly back in place.

~!~

I sit in the darkness of the living room and nurse my second Scotch of the evening. I put George to bed an hour ago and can still hear his words. After reading a book and tucking him in, he looked up at me sleepily. "I wish Bella could have come over for dinner again tonight. She's pretty." Then, he rolled over, snuggling into his pillow and closing his eyes. "Night, Uncle Edward. Wuv you."

"I love you too, buddy," I whispered. "So much."

I take a sip of the amber liquid and see Bella's face in my mind. Her long dark hair flows down her back, and her eyes are crinkled as she laughs at something I've said. I remember how her glasses slip down her nose when she's staring intently at the computer or how her cheeks looked this morning, flushed from the cold. When we stood in the driveway, holding our shovels, she looked at me like I was the only man on the planet.

I knock back the rest of my drink and wonder when everything got so fucked up. But I know the answer. It was a long time ago, and Kate and I have either ignored it, avoided it, or hoped it would improve on its own. The guilt I feel about my part in that weighs on me.

And then there's Bella. My shame over not telling her about Kate suffocates me just as much. But I can't pretend I don't know why I didn't tell her the truth.

It's because I want her.

And that makes me an asshole.

But there it is, and I can't deny it anymore. I want to hear her laugh and watch her do that funny thing she does with her face when she's confused. I want to talk to her late into the night and discover why she and her mother are constantly at odds. I want to sit in that corner booth of our restaurant and listen to her sing the praises of that scruffy dog while I get to the bottom of her hot chocolate obsession. I want to see her face when I get to work first thing in the morning. I want to hold her hand and touch her skin. I want to clasp her face and stare into her beautiful almond-shaped eyes. I want to lean in slowly and kiss her soft, pink lips. And I really want to know who the shithead was who hurt her. But most of all, I want to be near her - all the time.

And I shouldn't want any of those things. Because, technically, I belong to someone else.

And that makes me an asshole.

I grab my phone and stare at it for a beat before sending the text.

You up?

A minute later, it rings.

"Hey," I say to Garrett.

"Hey, buddy. Everything okay?"

I don't respond, suddenly unsure as to why I reached out in the first place.

"Edward?"

He's my best friend. The one who stood by me in high school when my dad was an asshole. The one who got me to move to Manhattan. The one who brought me into advertising after my failed stint with the Stock Exchange. The one who was one of my biggest supporters when Riley got sick. The one who set me up with his old friend from college, Kate.

"Yeah, Gar. Sorry, I'm here."

"How are the boys?" He asks.

I smile, thinking about Henry's excitement today when we picked up his gaming chair and how he couldn't stop talking about it on the drive home.

"They're good. They're doing great."

He's quiet on the other end, and his voice is low. "You did the right thing, Edward."

I don't respond.

"I know it's been tough with the distance and everything, but you did what you needed to do," he says.

"I know, Gar, it's …" I trail off, unsure how much I want to tell him.

"Look," he says. "I'm not going to pretend I understand everything that's going on, but I think … I think you need to come to New York. You two need to talk. It's been, what? Three months since you've seen each other in person?"

I hang my head and rest my elbows on my knees, wondering if he's been talking to Kate.

"I know," I say before letting out a sigh.

"Are you having second thoughts?" His voice is quiet but not accusatory.

When I don't respond, he takes it a step further.

"Is there someone else, Edward?" He hesitates. "Rose?"

He's not the first one to assume that. Aside from the slew of office gossip surrounding me, I know Mrs. Cope thinks we've been having some sort of illicit affair.

"No," I say. "Nothing is going on between Rose and me."

It hangs in the air - his original question. But I'm not ready to talk about Bella.

He's quiet for a moment. "I know you wouldn't do that," he says, and I feel ashamed because even if I'm not having an affair with Rose, I am thinking of Bella in ways I shouldn't be.

"People change, Edward," he finally says. "And I don't think you and Kate ever really acknowledged that after Riley got sick – how much both of you changed. The two of you were too busy trying to make things better for everyone else."

I scrub my hand down my face and consider what he's saying, but I still place the blame squarely on my shoulders.

"And Edward?"

"Yeah?" I say, blowing out a breath.

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

After I disconnect the call, I down the remainder of my drink. The ice clinks in the empty glass, and looking up, I see Rose standing in the doorway. After a few seconds, she walks into the room and sits in the chair next to me. Silently, she pours herself a double. And right before she raises it to her lips, she gives me a look that conveys something I rarely see from her.

Compassion.

~!~

I thank the flight attendant when she hands me a bottle of water and watch the older couple seated in front of me as we prepare for our descent into JFK. Her head rests on his shoulder as he flips a page of the book he's reading. Without looking up, he caresses the side of her face before lowering his hand and intertwining it with hers. I can't tell where his weathered skin ends and hers begins. Looking at them, I'm struck with an undeniable truth.

Kate and I never had that—that unspoken connection.

From the beginning, our relationship was … reliable. Considering our backgrounds, it made sense that we would gravitate toward that in a partner. My parent's marriage was a train wreck, and her parents weren't much better. We both wanted something stable —predictable. As the wheels touch down, I lurch forward as we hit the ground, wondering when those things stopped being enough.

The airport is crowded, and as commuters shuffle past me to get to baggage claim or connecting flights, I pull out my phone and text Kate.

Just landed.

Making my way outside, I spy the Uber and shift my bag to my other shoulder before walking toward it. Opening the door, I greet the driver and settle into the back seat for the twenty-minute drive. She was surprised when I called the other night and immediately asked if the boys were all right. That spoke volumes about the state of our relationship- that she'd think I'd only call if there were some sort of emergency. But when I told her I wanted to come out, she stayed silent for so long that I thought she would say no.

"I think that's a good idea, Edward." Her voice was quiet. Calm.

The car pulls up to her building, and I exit the vehicle, my nerves pinging as I walk into the lobby. I greet Dave, the doorman.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen. Nice to see you."

He's not even slightly fazed to see me, as if it hasn't been months since I've walked through the door. Or if he is, it doesn't show. Dave is a consummate professional whose face stays neutral, giving nothing away. I'm sure he's seen it all working in this building for as long as he has.

"You too, Dave," I say, giving him a small wave as I enter the elevator. Standing outside the apartment door, I take a deep breath before letting it out slowly. I have a key, of course, but I'm not comfortable using it. It's like I'm intruding into a space where I no longer belong. Raising my hand, I hesitate before rapping my knuckles against the grainy wood. I hear her inside as she moves towards the door, and when it swings open, she stands before me in a pair of leggings and an oversized Columbia sweatshirt.

She looks … different, but I can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail, and when she raises her eyes, it's impossible to miss the sadness in them. She gives me a gentle smile and reaches up hesitantly. I bend down and give her a soft hug. When we pull apart, she stares at me for a few seconds.

"It's good to see you, Edward." Her voice is soft, and I hear the melancholy in it.

"It's good to see you too," I say, and I mean it. She's been an important part of my life and is one of the kindest people I know. She steps aside, gesturing for me to enter. I walk into the apartment, smelling the familiar scent of her soap mixed with a lavender fragrance from a burning candle. Stepping further into the room, I notice some other differences. There's a new couch, and placing my bag on the floor, I run my hand over the soft taupe material.

"I, um, got it last month," she says. "I forgot to tell you the last time we talked."

"It's nice," I say. It's more modern than her usual style. There's some new artwork on the walls too, and they have an abstract flair different from her traditional preference. Kate and I have always had separate apartments. I eventually sublet mine when I took up residence in Chicago. I've never lived here. This was always her space.

She clears her throat, and I turn around to face her.

"How was your flight?" She asks. "Do you want something to drink? I bought that Smart Water you like, or um, I've got coffee."

I can tell she's nervous, and wanting to put her at ease; I shake my head and smile. "No, thanks. I'm good."

She looks at my bag. "I thought you were going to Garrett's first …."

Garrett offered his guest room, and I took him up on it.

"Sorry, I can go if –"

She stops me.

"No, no, it's fine, I uh, I just have some work to finish up."

It's Monday, and technically, I'm working too.

"That's fine," I say. "I can go down to Starbucks and catch up on some emails until you're done …."

She glances over at the table.

"I cleared a space for you there," she says, twisting her fingers together. " … I mean, if you want to stay here and work."

I run a hand through my hair. "I don't want you to have to move your …."

She shakes her head. "I finally turned that other room into an office." She gives me a small smile. "I just have a few things to take care of, and then we can order food, or we can go to Nino's or something …" She trails off at the mention of what used to be our go-to place around the corner.

It's an odd feeling – being nervous around her. It's as if we're strangers. But I guess that's what we've become. Time and distance have taken a toll on our relationship. But I can't pretend that they're the only factors that have led us to this place. Looking at her for the first time in so many months, I realize that what we had was always tenuous.

"Kate," I say, and my voice is quiet.

She turns, and I see tears in her eyes. Guilt twists my gut, and I try to convey the sincerity she deserves.

"Thanks for letting me come."