A/N: Thank you all for your lovely reviews. They make my day.

Mistakes are my own.

"Ow. Shit. Ow." I hobbled around my hotel room after stubbing my toe on the bed frame. Served me right, after five outfit changes, I ended up circling back to my original idea.

I was getting ready for my first real date with Edward. Edward Masen, to be exact. Once we'd officially exchanged numbers, he asked me on a date. I eagerly agreed, and we made idle chitchat while he continued to tend the bar. As the night came to a close, and he had announced last call, I asked him for his last name. I wanted to know so I could google him. I should probably add hypocrite to my laundry list of issues.

If he ignored my request and googled me, there was no doubt that Edward would go running for the hills. With one click, he would know everything he needed to know about who Isabella Swan was.

Everything that I had been running from. All my indiscretions and failings out on display. The problem was, if that was what he learned, he'd be reading about a stranger. Looking back, all those things felt like they were done by another person, a ghost of who I had become. They definitely didn't feel like me. Not like Bella.

I flipped through the rack of clothes and sighed. Why did none of these designer pieces feel right? I mean, normally I had no doubts that my outfit would wow. So why did everything suddenly feel inadequate? Including me.

I'd never felt inadequate before. That was a new one.

Edward already had seen the way I dressed based on that night in the bar earlier this week. So why did it matter all of a sudden?

Because you really like him. Duh.

I did really like him, even if he was simply a bartender. Jesus, Bella, stop sounding like your mother for god's sake.

It turned out that trying to internet stalk Edward was pointless. I mean, I should've guessed it would be once he showed me his dinosaur flip phone. The man had zero online presence—no Facebook, no Instagram. This meant anything I wanted to find out about him I'd have to do by talking to him. The problem was every time I opened my mouth around him, it was almost like I'd never spoken to someone of the opposite sex before. I sounded like such an amateur. We'd spoken a few times in the last few days to go over some of the details for our date, but each call was relatively short—he seemed busy and I was at a loss for words. It was a little awkward, if I were being honest.

Maybe I should call him and cancel. It'd save us both from disaster.

I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Fuck! Only forty minutes before he was going to be downstairs in the lobby. Edward had probably left already or was just about to.

I picked up my phone and twirled it in my hand. I shook my head and threw the phone back on the bed.

No, I needed this. I was finally deciding to do something for myself. Most of my life felt like I was gliding by. My choices weren't really my choices. They were handpicked and approved by my mother. Even the times I did things for myself, like going on vacation or selecting a fashion house to sign with, there were all these expectations and influences from others. I had to make sure I didn't let so-and-so down, or I should be grateful for such-and-such and ended up owing somebody something. The worst part of it all was the constant feeling of having to prove myself.

Sometimes out of sheer loneliness, I'd find myself in situations where I had no clue how I got there. All because of the desire for companionship, some semblance of a connection.

Now after having the last year to reflect, I had been considering everything I'd ever known, and I was finding myself second guessing some of my choices and rethinking where I was going in life.

Life in the fashion world and high society was great and all, but the truth was, it wasn't as glamorous as people thought. Being a model required strict discipline and being tolerant of a lot of petty bullshit. Sure, I wasn't formally trained, having landed the role simply because of the attention my family name brought to brands. That didn't stop me from giving my all to every job I got.

The charity work I did required me to rub elbows with the appropriate people and make sure they were willing to empty their pockets for whatever the worthy cause of the week was. But again, this was all about putting on a good show.

Then there was the partying and everything that came with that lifestyle. Being seen at certain nightclubs and events were required. My agent—my former agent—assured me that any exposure was good exposure. This solidified everything Renee had instilled in Jane and me. So, I ran with it and I got lost in it.

The high life was ironically too high. I couldn't take all the pressure. I got sloppy, started to drink more and more. Made shitty decisions. I was young and lost. A fact nobody wanted to consider. No—they saw a pretty face and a mind that could be molded how they saw fit. And I let them.

But the more time away I got from the city, and the circles I used to run in, the more I realized how empty that life was, how much I wanted to see and do things differently. Like going on a date with a charming man who would be here in half an hour, based on the time I saw when I glanced at the clock once more. I needed to shower quickly if I didn't want to be late. These heavy thoughts would have to be dealt with at some other time.

Here goes nothing.

XxXx

The elevator was crowded with hotel occupants. People who, unlike I was, were here temporarily–tourists on holiday, men and women on business trips. People who weren't living out of their luggage, hiding from their real life instead of going to their townhouse.

Ding!

Everybody rushed out of the elevator, excited. I felt like I was going to throw up. As I looked around the lobby, I craned my head over the floral arrangements on tables to see if Edward was here yet.

Looking down at my outfit, I cringed, thinking this outfit was a little too revealing for a first date. I was going for an edgy Parisian chic, which is why I was wearing a tweed jacket with just a bralette underneath and leather pants.

I adjusted my tweed jacket and debated running upstairs to change once more.

Yes, Edward liked Bella at the bar. But what if I was not really Bella? What if I really was Isabella?

I groaned. What the fuck am I doing?

"Excuse me?" An older lady with white hair gasped, clutching her rat–I mean, dog.

I hadn't realized I'd said that out loud. My filter must be broken. All the more reason why I shouldn't be doing this.

"Bella!" I spun around and was met with Edward in a proper tux, his hair gelled, and he was carrying flowers.

I smiled at how thoughtful he was. I also noted his fancy attire, growing a little concerned about where he was planning on taking us. When we spoke on the phone, he only gave me the time he'd pick me up, refusing to give me any hints about our destination. His exact words were "let me surprise you."

I muttered an "I'm sorry" to the old prude and practically skipped over to close the gap between Edward and myself.

"Wow," Edward said, a little breathless. "You look—" He paused, and I bit my bottom lip as I looked down, cursing my outfit change yet again.

I gulped visibly. This was one of my cutest outfits. Karl gave it to me in Paris.

Pursing my lips, I was about to make a break for it and run upstairs to change or better yet retire for the night with some Ben and Jerry's. Chunky Monkey here I come.

Edward grabbed my hand and rubbed it like he had that night in the bar. I didn't know what it was about him but his presence instantly calmed me.

I really liked his touch as well. If I felt sparks just from his innocent touches and the chaste kiss we shared, then I could only imagine what it would be like to be with him sexually.

Bella! Stop thinking about him that way. I pursed my lips to stifle a laugh at the war going on in my head.

"You look incredible," Edward complimented, smiling so brightly it made me feel beautiful for the first time in my life.

Despite hearing everybody's praise toward my looks, I never really paid mind to them. I never really believed what they were saying. Not that some weren't genuine—it was just a feeling I got when they delivered the line, like they only saw what was on the surface.

Edward was sincere; that was one thing I was sure about.

"Thank you!" I rushed out, trying to seem less crazy and spastic.

"Are you ready?" he asked, gesturing toward the door.

I nodded eagerly, feeling much more confident all of a sudden.

"Are you finally going to tell me where we're headed?" I asked, walking toward the revolving doors.

"I got us a reservation at Gramercy Tavern. Have you ever been?" He beamed, proudly as I looked at him like a deer in headlights.

Being a native New Yorker and being a part of an affluent group, I had been a frequent patron of Gramercy Tavern. So were most of the people I was currently avoiding.

Fuck! How could I explain this to Edward without telling him everything?

"Bella, is everything all right?" He questioned my silence, and now he was probably doubting his restaurant choice or maybe even why he wanted to take me out to begin with.

Two years ago, Gramercy Tavern would have been the perfect venue for a first date. Its chic, romantic vibes along with the man beside me would have made me swoon.

But now hardened by the events that had transpired, I silently prayed that I didn't run into anybody I knew. Or that a meteor would crash to the earth. Or the health inspector shutting the place down. A girl could dream.

I looked at him and sighed, realizing I was being ungrateful. He had obviously put a lot of thought and attention into planning this date, wanting to make it special.

"It's perfect," I finally responded. "Let's go eat. I'm starved."

I closed the gap between us and gave him a peck on the lips. As I went to pull away, Edward's hand gently cupped my cheek, and he deepened the kiss. Just as my tongue licked his lips, he stepped back all too soon.

I really had a love-hate relationship with his old-fashioned mindset.

XxXx

"Isabella Swan!" the maitre d' greeted, as Edward held the door open for me. "We haven't seen you around in a while. Do you want Ms. Swan's standing table?"

Renee loved Gramercy's gnocchi when she was eating carbs. Thankfully she was still on her retreat so I had one less time bomb to concern myself over.

I shook my head as Edward spoke. "No, she's with me. Reservation under Masen," he said smoothly, clearly not phased by the interaction he'd just witnessed.

The older man's eyes narrowed, and he checked his reservation book, nodding before he led us to a table in the corner by an abstract painting.

Edward pulled out my chair for me, and I smiled in appreciation of his gesture, taking a seat and setting my purse in my lap.

"This is nice," he said as he sat down, draped his napkin over his pants, and peered around at the quiet room that was sophisticated but lonely.

I tried not to fidget with my purse. Looked like my self-imposed exile had made me forget how to act in public. I followed his gaze and did my own scan, hoping I didn't see any "friendly" faces.

Everybody ate their expensive, seasonally-sourced meals in silence. And thankfully, I didn't recognize a single face in the dining room.

The more I glanced around the room, the more I realized how quiet, cold, and stuffy it was. Though "appropriate" would be the word mother would use instead.

Edward's eyes widened as he opened the menu. I couldn't imagine why since the items on the list weren't that outlandish. It was not quail eggs or escagot which some places I frequented offered.

Then I had another thought at why he reacted as such, and for the first time in my life, I looked at the prices.

What if Edward couldn't afford this place? I mean, he was only a bartender in Brooklyn.

Surely he had to have checked the price point before making the reservation. I really hoped he had the money to pay. I would be mortified if he didn't. As I imagined having to pull my Amex Black Card out, Edward spoke and calmed my fears.

"You know these drink options are shameful," he scoffed, shaking his head, clearly still mystified by the drinks on the menu. Edward looked completely offended by the paper in his hands.

I laughed, not at his outburst but at myself and how I assumed the worst about this adorable old man.

"Don't laugh!" Edward protested but laughed along with me, giving me the smile that made me want to jump him.

After a moment or so, I remembered where I was and how I shouldn't be this loud. Drawing attention would be the worst possible thing. All I needed was to end up on the front page of another freaking tabloid.

The waiter hadn't come to take our drink orders yet, so there was still time to avoid being seen. I pursed my lips, warring with myself over what I wanted to do versus what I should do. Bella seemed to be a girl who acted on her desires so…

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Edward and I blurted out the same thing at the same time.

"Jinx!" He rolled his eyes and reached over to caress my hand on the table.

How could he tell I was worried? I loved how he did that.

I nodded feverishly as I saw the waiter approaching.

Without taking a minute to process, Edward tossed his napkin on the table, grinning from ear to ear. He rose from his seat, pulling me with him, steadying me as I scrambled to find my footing.

Edward threw a bill on the table and pulled me toward the door. We were practically running out of the restaurant like two cheeky school kids.

"We're going to have to leave. Thank you for your hospitality," he called over his shoulder as we escaped the boring establishment.

The New York night was lit up with buildings and streetlights. It truly was the city that never slept.

"Oh my God!" I covered my mouth with my hands. "I can't believe we just did that." I laughed in disbelief.

Before I could say anything else, Edward pulled me into his arms and gave me a bear hug.

"I'm sorry. You didn't seem very comfortable there. I figured a girl like you would have enjoyed a place like that," he murmured into my hair.

I squeezed my eyes shut, thankful he couldn't see my reaction to his words. While I knew Edward didn't mean anything by it, hearing how he assumed I was someone who fit in at those places made me a little sad. I once was someone who fit at those places. Now it seemed like I didn't fit in anywhere.

Scratch that: I fit pretty well in the bartender's arms.

As Edward pulled away, I figured now was as good a time as any to say something about my background. Let him get a glimpse at what I was hiding.

"My former circle does frequent there." I crooked my finger in the direction of the restaurant. "In fact, they frequent a lot of upscale venues. My mother is a socialite on the Upper East Side, and I was raised to be just like her. Someone who attends parties, represents brands, gets photographed at the right times, and basically lives under a magnifying glass for all to judge. I've been out of town for the last six months, and during the year before that I…had to distance myself from this world." I sucked my teeth, searching for the right words. I had to phrase all of this correctly because the last thing I wanted to do was lie to Edward. He didn't deserve that.

"While I distanced myself, I was also an outcast from high society." I laughed, not because it was funny but because of how hypocritical it all was. The very same people who treated me like a pariah were the ones with the biggest secrets. Secrets I was still keeping.

"All the brands I worked with dropped me. All my 'friends' don't want to be seen with me in public. My own mother wants me to do a press tour issuing apologies and 'take responsibility for my role in events that transpired' and basically beg for my reinstatement back into our world." I waved my hands dramatically, fed up with Renee and her ridiculous ideas.

Edward stood there, unfazed of me and my ranting. Calm, cool, and ever so handsome.

"I'm sorry. It's been a lot." I breathed out, "And being back here hasn't helped at all," I muttered, staring at the yellow taxis racing past us.

I'd given this guy every reason to run for the hills, and yet…I vowed that when I was ready, I would tell him the full story. I had to tell somebody.

"I can't imagine you did something so bad to be shunned like that. What could you have done that was so unforgivable?" He shook his head in disbelief as he mumbled something under his breath which sounded like "pretentious rich people."

I was thankful he wasn't pushing me for answers. I wasn't ready. Not yet, but maybe soon.

I chuckled at his remark. "You'd be surprised." I hated thinking about the past.

"Well you're not in jail, so that's a plus," Edward pointed out, grabbing my hand once more.

"I guess," I agreed as we walked down the street. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see!" A knowing smile cast across his face.

XxXx

"Edward, I can't!" I cringed, almost in pain for what he wanted to do.

"Oh come on, you'll love it. I know I do," he assured me as we inched closer toward my doom.

"How many?" the older man wielding hot dogs on a cart demanded. What kind of service was this?

The cart was practically held together with duct tape, and the hot dog buns were sitting in plastic that looked like it had bird poop on it.

"Two. One with the works and one…" Edward trailed off and looked to me for confirmation.

"The works," I grumbled, crossing my arms like a petulant child. If I was going to eat this, I had to get the full experience.

All the years of being a New Yorker and I'd never had a hot dog from a street cart before. Edw

ard seemed appalled by this revelation when he suggested we grab some for dinner.

Of course, his brilliant idea was that I needed to remedy that immediately, so he insisted that I try one. I gagged at the thought, but here I was, standing in front of a hot dog stand about to eat something that literally had the words "dirty water" in the title.

I was all for a dirty martini, but that was as dirty as I wanted my food and beverage to get.

Edward paid the man and was then handed our food. We walked over to a bench and sat down. He looked at me and must have seen my terrified expression because he laughed boisterously.

"I promise it's not poison." Edward handed me the hot dog.

I looked down at it and gulped. Who knew something as simple as a hot dog could have this effect on me?

"That's what they all say," I muttered and leaned in to take the tiniest bite with my two front teeth. Maybe if it didn't touch my tongue, I wouldn't taste it as much.

Edward sat there, chuckling. I chewed and resisted the urge to throw up but not by much. Until I tasted it…and it wasn't bad.

It might have actually been good?

"Told you!" he bragged as I took another bite.

"Old man, bartender, hot dog connoisseur. Is there anything you can't do?" I laughed as Edward finally took a bite of his hot dog. I grabbed a napkin from the stack he put beside us on the bench and dabbed my chin.

Edward leaned in, and I thought he was going to help me with the ketchup on my face when he whispered, "I'm not just a bartender, Bella. I own Bar."

Shit.

A/N: Let me know your thoughts! PS: Edward's secret will be revealed in about two chapters! Also there will be a few EPOV's (two or three).