9

"Izzy."

Bella shifted her eyes to the man sitting in the brown leather chair. He was tall; older, with graying hair and wrinkles biting into the skin around his eyes. He was wearing a pair of black slacks, a maroon button-up with a black pullover, a V-neck sweater vest, black socks, and two different black loafers, which she wondered if he had noticed yet. He had a pair of wire-rim glasses perched on the tip of his nose, but he was staring at her over them — staring at her with an expectation that she wasn't sure how to handle.

"Izzy."

"I'm sorry. What'd you say?"

He smiled kindly, or maybe it was more pathetically. "I asked what you hope to achieve from these sessions?"

"I, um . . ."

Bella shook her head because she honestly didn't know how to answer that question. Dr. Black had been the one to set up her session, having called her the day before, telling her to be there at ten a.m. and not to be late. He hadn't been happy to learn she hadn't stayed at Emmett and Rosalie's house. She understood he was just trying to help. Dr. Black had been a second father to her. Hell, when she performed in her first recital at the age of five years old, Dr. Black and Charlie had each brought her a bouquet of sunflowers. So had Carlisle, Jacob, and Edward, she thought.

"Izzy."

"I'm sorry. I . . . I don't know. I just . . ."

Bella sighed and stood, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window while looking down at the street, staring at the cars parked along the curb, the taxis zooming by, and a city bus carrying many people to their destinations. She envied their ability to just move freely and peacefully. Bella felt like she'd been moving in slow motion for weeks, ever since the night he left her.

"I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm . . . I'm alone."

"Those are valid feelings," he said, and when she looked at him, he added, "But what do you want from our sessions?"

"I want to stop feeling angry, sad, and alone."

"Okay." He made a note on the yellow legal pad propped up on his knee, which he had crossed, causing his pant leg to pull up and show the top of his calf where his socks stopped. "Tell me about your husband."

Bella looked back out the window. "My husband is dead. He was killed in the line of duty ten weeks ago."

"I know."

"You know?" she asked, shifting her eyes back to the man with the gray hair. "How do you know?"

"Billy told me."

Bella nodded before she turned and walked back over to the cliché leather couch and sat. "Of course, he did. Did he also tell you that I'm having a baby?"

He smiled sadly. "He did."

"My husband is dead, and I'm having a baby."

He just sat there.

"I shouldn't have come," she mumbled, scrambling to her feet and grabbing her bag off the floor in one swift move. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"You haven't," he said, but he stayed seated. "But I can only help, Izzy, if you stay and tell me about your husband."

"I told you he's dead."

"But you haven't told me who he was."

Bella dropped her bag and sat back down on the sofa. "That's the problem. I don't know who he was. Who he really was, because the man I spent the last ten years being married to is a stranger to me now. He kept things from me. A lot of things."

"What things?"

Bella shook her head, unsure she could trust the man sitting across from her with her greatest humiliation. Carlisle had been her entire world, the only person she could count on, and she had counted on him for everything. More than she should have probably, but he had been her world. But now, she was alone and knew he had been keeping secrets. A sister and a bank account with more money than they had ever had before. They were frugal, careful with their spending. More times than she could remember, he had chastised her for paying for expensive, overpriced coffee.

"Seven dollars for coffee you could have made at home, Izzy? I mean, really? Don't you think that's a little stupid?"

But she would just laugh and wave him off while drinking her nitro cold brew with heavy cream and stevia. Yet, he had been hiding money from her. He had been working extra shifts, lying to her about how he felt about her, about their marriage. He was unhappy. Unhappy with her bitching and complaining, yet he'd crawled into their bed every morning when he got home, touching her, kissing her, loving every inch of her body with his. Their lives had been filled with passion, yet he hadn't wanted to be with her anymore — had he?

"Izzy."

Bella shifted her eyes back to the man sitting across from her. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

He tilted his head to the side before he stood and held the yellow legal pad against his chest. "I'll see you next week, same time. Maybe then you'll be ready."

Bella opened her mouth, but the words were stuck inside her head, so she picked up her bag and walked out of his office, through the small, dank waiting room, and into the hallway. As soon as the door closed, she leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around her torso. She shouldn't have come; she should have lied and told him she was fine, everything was just fine, but she couldn't lie, not even to herself. Bella pushed away from the wall and hurried down the narrow hallway to the elevator. With one look back to the door of her therapist, she sighed. He wanted to help her, but she couldn't even remember his name.

—RtW—

Once again, Bella found herself sitting outside the brick townhouse in the middle of Van Buren Street. She had been there for almost an hour when the bright purple door opened, and Esme Platt walked out. Her long, auburn hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, and she tucked her cell phone between her shoulder and ear before reaching over, grabbing the door, and pulling it shut.

Bella climbed out of the car, leaned against the side, and took a deep breath before she pushed away and started across the street behind Esme, who had started walking in the same direction as the pub. But instead of turning right once they had walked the three blocks, she turned left. Bella followed, trying to build up the nerves to reach out and touch her shoulder, to speak to her, to find out why Carlisle had been paying her rent.

But she couldn't.

She was scared what she would learn, what the woman with the beautiful auburn hair would say to her. So she just followed her down five more blocks.

The further they walked, the louder Esme's voice became, and Bella could hear bits and pieces of her conversation: "Two months, Mom," and "I don't know. He just said that payments stopped two months ago."

Esme stopped in front of a small café, looking around as she nodded at whatever her mother told her on the other end of the phone. She laughed as her eyes shifted to Bella, who was quick to duck into the diner, not wanting to seem like a stalker, even if she was following Esme Platt.

Bella slid into one of the booths, but her eyes were still locked on Esme as she continued her phone call for another thirty-three seconds (yes, she was counting). Esme stowed her phone in her back pocket before she turned and entered the eatery. Bella expected her to put in an order, so imagine her surprise when Esme stuffed her bag under the counter and picked up an order pad.

She walked over to Bella's table and smiled as she leaned against the side. "Hey, sorry about the wait. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Um, yeah, sure, that'd be great."

"Need any cream, sugar?"

Bella shook her head. "Heavy whipping cream if you have it, and some stevia, please."

Esme smiled and nodded. "That's how I like my coffee, too. Menus are in the box." She gestured to the wooden box on the backside of the table. "I'll be right back with your coffee."

"Thank you," she breathed, earning her another smile.

She picked up one of the menus and unfolded it but didn't look it over. No, she watched as Esme walked back behind the counter and started a fresh pot of coffee before setting a large, white porcelain cup on the counter. She'd just picked up a rag when the door opened, and Bella looked over the back of the booth and watched Garrett walk in. He looked around and smiled when he saw Esme, who hurried around the counter and wrapped her arms around him. His hand rested on her backside as he lifted her off the ground, causing her to squeal and laugh. They seemed so carefree and easygoing. The way she felt with Carlisle, she thought.

"Sorry, I'm late," Garrett said, placing Esme back onto her feet. "Class ran long. Did you talk to Mr. Gerandy?"

Esme sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yep. According to him, the foundation hasn't paid my rent in two months, Garrett. Two months! Now, I have to come up with almost twenty-five hundred dollars by the end of the week, or they'll kick me out. I don't know what I'm going to do."

Garrett placed his hands on either side of Esme's face. "Did you call the foundation?"

"I tried, but the phone is out of order. I just don't know what I'm going to do. Mom and Phil can't help, and, well, he's fucking useless, so . . ." Esme frowned, covering his hands with hers. "Guess I need to start looking for a new apartment."

"We'll figure something out. Together."

Esme smiled and nodded. "I know." She took a deep breath. "Okay, we'd better get to work before Mrs. Cope jumps our asses."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am." Garrett placed a kiss on her lips before he walked past her and into the back of the diner.

Esme grabbed the fresh decanter of coffee and the porcelain cup, placed them on a tray with a small pitcher of cream and stevia packets, and walked over to Bella's table, placed the cup down, and filled it with coffee and then placed the pitcher and stevia on the table. "Are you ready to order?"

"Oh, um, I'll take . . ." Bella quickly glanced at the menu, ". . . the turkey club."

"Do you want the chips with it?"

"What else do you have?"

Esme smiled. "Between you and me, the only thing worth eating is the fruit salad. The chef makes it fresh every day. It's not that canned shit soaked in syrup."

Bella smiled and nodded. "Sounds delicious. I'll take the fruit salad."

"Shouldn't be too long. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Esme turned her order into Garrett before she started darting around the café, cleaning tables, and refilling salt and pepper shakers and napkin holders. There were so many questions Bella wanted to ask, but she found herself just watching as her husband's half-sister kept herself busy. Bella was startled when her phone started ringing. When she pulled it out of her bag, she groaned when she saw Jasper's name on the screen. Her brother worried about her, she understood, but there was only so much she could handle at one time, and right now, she needed to understand why Carlisle had kept Esme Platt a secret from her.

Bella silenced the call before letting her phone drop back into her bag. When she looked up for Esme again, she couldn't see her, so she shifted in the booth and looked outside, where Esme stood with her phone pressed against her ear. She was talking animatedly, her eyes filled with rage and anger.

"Turkey club with fruit salad on the side?"

Bella shifted in the booth, finding Garrett standing there.

He smiled. "I remember you! Be honest, you regretted not getting the fried ice cream, didn't you?"

"I did," she confessed.

"I knew you would." Garrett placed her plate in front of her. "I'll make you a deal: you eat all of this, and I'll buy you a slice of pie. You gave me such an overly generous tip that was completely and utterly unnecessary."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to, but seeing as your tab was only like fifteen dollars, and you gave me a twenty-dollar tip, I'm going to have to insist."

"What if I don't want pie?"

He laughed and stepped away from the table as the door opened, and Esme walked back inside. "Then you can take it home. If you don't, you'll regret it again."

"Everything come out okay?" Esme asked, stopping next to Garrett and placing her hand on the small of his back. "Can I get you a refill on your coffee?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Thanks."

"No problem. It will be just a minute."

Esme and Garrett left her alone, so she picked up her silverware and unrolled the napkin surrounding it, plucking out the fork and stabbing one of the grapes. She kept her eyes locked on Esme as she popped it into her mouth, watching as she picked up the carafe and started back toward her. She filled Bella's cup before smiling and asking, "It's good, right?"

Bella nodded and swallowed. "Very good."

"He's very selective with the types of fruits he uses. Our customers deserve only the best, he says," she added with a laugh before her head lolled to the side. "You're the girl he told me about, aren't you? The one who left him such a generous tip at the pub?"

Bella tensed.

"It took me a minute, but I remember seeing you outside the pub last week."

"You do?"

Esme nodded. "I was running late for a study group."

"What are you studying?"

"I'm in medical school. For now, at least."

"Why just for now?"

Esme sighed.

"Sorry, I'm being nosy, aren't I?"

"It's fine. I, um, I don't know that I will be able to afford it much longer. My scholarship covers my tuition and books, but medical school is very time-consuming. I can't work as much as I would need to in order to keep my apartment, and I just found out that the foundation that has been paying my rent for the last five years has suddenly stopped paying without letting me know, of course."

"Oh, wow, that . . . that sucks."

"Yes, it does. Anyway, I'll let you finish your lunch. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you."

Bella managed to finish her food, even though she wasn't hungry. She watched Esme, who greeted every customer with a smile, and Garrett, who, as he had at the pub, was full of life and laughter. They were infectious and beautiful together, and Bella wondered if Carlisle had known about the man his sister was clearly in love with.

It didn't escape Bella's attention that her husband had been dead for almost three months, and Esme's rent hadn't been paid in two. The last payment he sent out had been the week before he died. He had been the one paying it through whatever bullshit foundation he had created to cover his tracks. The paperwork she had found hadn't made mention of any. Clearly, there was even more about her husband she didn't know.

"He said you're going to fight me on this, but he insists you take this with you. It's on him, of course." Esme placed a small, white foam box on the table, pushing it toward Bella. "He also told me to tell you he still owes you a fried ice cream."

Bella smiled and opened the Styrofoam box, finding a huge slice of apple pie inside. "Tell him I said thank you, but he really doesn't owe me anything."

"I'm not telling him anything of the sort." She laughed and placed her check on the table. "Can I get you a coffee to go?"

"Um, no, I shouldn't have anymore." Bella slipped her wallet out of her purse and dug out two twenties. She slid out of the booth before she dropped the cash on the table and picked up the container. "Thank you, though."

"You're welcome," Esme replied with a smile. But when she saw the money on the table, her eyes widened. "That's too much."

"Share it with him." Bella took a step backward. "And I hope you figure out your rent situation."

"Thank you. I . . . I hope you come back soon."

"I'm sure I will."

Bella shifted her eyes from Esme to the kitchen door, where Garrett was leaning, and back before she turned and hurried out of the small café and back to her car. Once she was inside, she wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and found herself crying over Esme Platt. Carlisle's death had ruined his sister's life, too, and she didn't even know it.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! Huge thank you to Sunflower Fran for cleaning up my mess. I have decided to update this story every Wednesday. Do me a solid, and leave me a few more words.