Thanks for reading? The Bella-haters make me nervous to post the rest of the story! lolol
6
- the way we were -
I'm on edge the entire week, wondering when Edward will show up on my doorstep.
I hate to admit that it makes my heart beat a little faster, knowing he could just show up anytime. It gives me something to look forward to in a simple, senseless way.
I can't decide how I want it to go down. Can't decide if I want to see him, or if I want to come home one day to boxes and memories piled up on my porch.
I'm lying to myself about the latter.
I want to see him.
Want to see if he's changed.
Is he thinner like I am? Depressed and jaded, too? Or is he healthier, did he bulk up after I left? Is his hair still a mess, the way I once loved? Or did he chop off inches, no longer having a reason to keep it that way because my fingers weren't threading through his hair?
Does he still wear his wedding ring?
Probably not.
I push him out of my mind.
A week comes and goes. Then two. He never comes, and the life I left behind isn't waiting for me to pack it away never to be opened again.
I'm curious about what the hold-up is. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he came into town and decided he didn't want to see me, that hauling some of my stuff wasn't worth the hassle.
Or maybe he burned all my things, swept up the ashes, and sprinkled them into an urn. A morbid memento of what once was.
My irrational interest in his absence leads to almost unblocking him on Instagram.
Almost.
But I don't.
If I did, though, I wouldn't be able to see his personal profile, only his professional one since it's public because of the podcast. Being in the entertainment industry, he has to be attainable and open. But being that way is natural for him. He's a people person. Charming. Unbearably handsome. He can make you feel like the most interesting person in the room.
When his attention is on you, nothing else matters.
And when it's elsewhere, everything dims.
We spoke over email a few times before we ever met because he wanted to hire me to take some professional photos of him. He said his sister, Allie Cullen, recommended me. I met her a year prior, when I did her engagement photos, and would be capturing her and Ben's wedding months later.
Edward said he saw my portfolio online and found my style to be unique and intriguing, not your typical, stuffy headshots, and he thought I could help him up his online presence. He immediately sent another email before I could reply, saying he swore he didn't mean to sound like a douche using the phrase "up his online presence." I remember laughing at my screen. I reassured him he didn't sound like a douche, and I'd be more than happy to help him.
I let him know my fee and that I usually book a room at the Ace Hotel because I didn't have a studio, and the hotel had the best natural lighting and vibe. Part of the room cost would be added to his fee, and he agreed that was more than fine.
The first time we ever met, I was immediately taken by him. He was an easy subject to shoot. An easy person to talk to. The closer we got to the photoshoot ending, the more I found myself wanting time to go on. I definitely felt a spark, and I was thinking he did, too.
But he didn't ask for my number.
He didn't ask me out.
Not until I saw him again at his sister's wedding.
Edward was a distraction. The most handsome distraction. But I put my game face on and did my job, trying to avoid snapping too many photos of just him.
I noticed he looked sexy in a tux.
I noticed he didn't have a date.
I noticed he kept watching me, unabashedly.
At the end of the night, after the bride and groom left, Edward handed me a glass of champagne. I told him I didn't drink on the job. He said the job was over. My stomach buzzed from the way he was staring at me. So I accepted the glass, and we sat outside the venue and talked for nearly an hour.
Apparently, he would have had a date… if he hadn't broken up with her a week after meeting me. It was bold. And I was flattered, but it was also intense. Not in a scary way, just in a way I'd never felt before.
We talked until crew members started tearing everything down around us. The night was over, but I didn't want it to be. Edward must have felt the same way, too, because he invited me for another drink. In his hotel. We didn't fuck that night, but he kissed me. Went down on me. I made him feel good, too.
It was that next morning that he ruined me for anyone else by moving between my legs and making me his.
Three weeks later he asked me to be his girlfriend. Six months after that, he asked me to be his wife.
We moved quickly, but we knew.
I always loved the way we met. Loved retelling the story. Loved that it was organic. There was no setup and no online dating. No awkward moments.
It was just real with him.
It was rare.
And fine.
Sometimes I miss him.
A lot.
Like right now.
On our wedding anniversary.
Legally married for eleven years.
I'm a bottle of wine in. I'm drunk. I'm alone.
I'm just missing him.
Miss his scent.
His soft morning kisses.
Miss talking to him while he showers and I get ready for the day.
Miss showering with him.
Miss having him cook dinner for me.
Miss going to bed with him.
He said he'd be here two weeks ago, and nothing.
I open a second bottle of wine, and since my miserable heart seeks company, I text him.
Bella: Hey.
An hour later, still nothing.
I try again, annoyed that he might be busy on our wedding anniversary. I mean, I made plans, too—to wallow. But thinking about him being out and distracted and having fun just… sucks.
Bella: You never came to town. Did you decide to burn my shit?
Thirty minutes later, he finally replies.
Edward: You'd love that, yeah? Another thing to hold against me.
I type, delete.
Type.
Delete.
Bella: You don't know half the shit I'm holding against you.
He still doesn't know I saw that Instagram video of him and Maria hugging.
Edward: You're right, I don't. That requires talking, and you ran away.
Bella: And you let me.
He calls then.
I answer, and he's speaking too fast, too angrily.
"Don't you fucking tell me I let you run away, Bella. Not today. Not on our fucking wedding anniversary. I tried to work shit out, but you refused to listen or believe me. Refused to try to move on. Yeah, I'm not saying I was a fucking perfect husband or that I handled everything the right way. I have so many regrets. But at least I didn't cut off contact with you for months and move out of state. At least I didn't abandon you. At least I actually loved you. So, fuck you."
And then he hangs up.