25
- screaming infidelities -

"Where to now?" I ask as we walk hand in hand along the pier, back toward the amusement park.

Edward smirks. "I could eat again."

"Of course, you could," I laugh. "Save your appetite for dinner later."

His easy smile fades. "I want to see where you've been living."

My pace slows. "Yeah?"

He nods, bringing our clasped hands to his mouth and kissing my wrist. "Yeah."

"Okay."

Digging into my bag, I ignore the divorce papers that haunted me for so long and pull out my phone to get us an Uber to my house. It's nothing special. Just a rental that I pay too much for. It's not even really a home, but it did its job, giving me a place to hide for a year.

We sit close on the drive, both of us silent but connected. My side pressed as close to his as I can be. His large palm resting on my thigh.

When we walk into the house, his tan leather chair is the first thing he notices.

"Wasn't sure if you kept it or not," he says in a low voice.

"Of course, I did," I tell him. "I spent so many nights in it."

I expect him to walk around and take everything in, but he sits in his chair instead. The sight of him here is enough to make me cry from both relief and disbelief.

Wordlessly, he reaches out a hand for me to join him, and I drop my bag on the floor to sit on his lap. I kick off my sneakers and bring my legs up, really getting comfortable.

"In the studio yesterday you said in October you'll have lived in LA for a year," he remembers, looking at my face. "But you left me in August. So… where were you for nearly two months before you came here?"

His voice is soft and he looks wounded, but he doesn't seem mad. He just seems like a man who wants to know where his wife fled when she ran away.

"You remember Charlotte and Liam?" I ask, and he nods.

Charlotte is an old college friend of mine. We weren't as close after graduating, but stayed in touch and hung out occasionally. She hired me for some of her big life events—engagement, wedding, and maternity photos. I was her only link to Edward, so I knew there'd be no way for him to reach out, or for her to spill my whereabouts to someone and have it get back to him.

"Charlotte and her husband have an apartment above their unattached garage, and they were between renters so they let me stay there before I moved here," I tell him, pulling off his hat and tossing it on the floor, running my fingers through his hair.

"What did you tell them about us?"

"I was vague," I say. "Just said we were having issues. They didn't want to pry. I certainly didn't want to talk about it."

"Why didn't you just stay in Seattle?"

"I wanted as far away from you as possible after I saw the video of you and Maria hugging in the bar," I nervously admit.

It sounds so stupid and so simple.

So juvenile.

But that hug truly did add fuel to my fire, creating an explosion that felt too blazing to ever burn out.

"I cyberstalked you the entire tour, watching all of the content. I was looking for any clue that you and Maria were sleeping together… anything to justify my behavior."

He stays quiet.

Too quiet.

I'm not sure where his head is at right now.

"What do your parents think about everything?" I softly wonder.

"I don't know. Nothing," he mumbles.

"Nothing?"

"They knew we were separated, but not why. It was hard keeping shit from them. They love you, you know?" he asks rhetorically, but I nod anyway. "I purposely kept myself busy and kind of stopped going to family events, not wanting the questions or pitying looks and shit like that."

A new wave of hatred for myself washes over me. I was only thinking about myself when I left. I didn't think about what he'd have to tell people. My pain created tunnel vision.

"I have an apology tour to make, huh?" I ask, dreading it.

"No, you don't." Edward closes the distance and presses his mouth to mine, offering the softest, most forgiving, and repentant kisses. "Let's go back to Greece," he says out of nowhere.

I laugh. "What? When?"

"Now."

"Now?" I ask in disbelief.

He grins. "Okay, fine. Tomorrow."

"Where did this idea come from?"

"I don't know. Shit is going to be hectic for a while once I start filming so I think we should take advantage of the time off I have."

"You're serious," I deadpan.

"I'm so fucking serious."

"And you don't want to go somewhere closer?" I ask. "Less… expensive?"

He shakes his head. "If it's going to fuck up your work schedule then sure, we can take a weekend trip somewhere. But I think it'd be good for us to get away."

I'm getting ahead of myself, but my heart races a little faster at the idea that maybe he wants to redo his proposal.

I go over my work schedule in my head.

"Other than the wedding tomorrow, I don't have any upcoming jobs this weekend that can't be rescheduled," I tell him, still shocked at his idea. "I'll be home late tomorrow night. Like, after ten."

"Okay. That gives us a couple of days to book flights and hotels. So we can plan on flying to Greece on Sunday."

"Sunday? In two days?" I laugh at how casual he's being about this. "You're crazy. But… okay."

"Not crazy. I want more time with you. Just us. No outside noise. Then we'll come back here and start our lives."

"Okay." I smile, loving this idea. "Let's go to Greece."

Sun and lazy days and the beach and… him. Yeah. I want that.

He grabs my face and kisses me. I kiss him back, deepening it. His mouth parts and our tongues brush, creating delicious desire in my lower stomach.

The atmosphere in the room changes.

It's palpable, our hunger for one another.

Our kisses turn from slow and sweet to frantic and heated.

His mouth trails to my neck, softly sucking. I moan. He grabs my hips and changes my position so I'm straddling him.

There aren't any words between us, just passion.

We're breathless and wanting.

Groaning and grinding.

Our mouths stay attached but his fingers move to the buttons of my jeans.

"Take these off," he urges against my lips.

I stand to take off my pants and underwear, then unbutton and unzip his jeans.

We don't even fully undress, both desperate to have this happen now, now, now.

Here, here, here.

Dropping to my knees, I pull his cock out through the flap of his boxers. He hisses in pleasure when my hands touch him, then groans out loud when I use my mouth. He grabs the back of my head, guiding me along.

After a minute he stops me again, pulling me to straddle him in the chair.

I'm desperate for this, for him, and sink down, both of us crying out when I take him fully.

There's no adjusting to him, nothing slow about it.

Just quick and raw and dirty.

Just pound, pound, pounding.

He kisses my mouth, sucking on my bottom lip.

"Fuuuuck," I moan.

"Take it, baby That's it," he coaxes, voice low and demanding. "Touch yourself. Rub that pussy."

"You like telling me what to do?" I ask, doing—and loving—what he's saying to me.

His gaze grows heavy. "After a year of having no control? Yeah."

He pulls the knot out of my shirt and lifts it to suck my tit into his mouth. His teeth graze my nipple, and then he soothes it with his tongue.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warns, grabbing my ass to make me ride him faster. "Tell me you're close?"

I nod, and he watches my face, watches what he's doing as he thrusts up into me harder, our arousal crashing over us at the same time.

We breathe raggedly, my body sagging against his, my face buried in his neck.

He kisses whatever his lips can reach—my temple, the side of my cheek, my shoulder.

"I'm not moving from this chair," I declare, sated. "Ever."

I can feel him laugh. "Let's shower."

"That's a little too ambitious," I murmur, kissing his throat.

"We smell like sex."

"So?"

"Baaaaaby," he coaxes, squeezing my ass. "Dinner. With Allie and Jasper."

I sit up, likely looking and feeling wrecked. "Should we tell Allie I'm coming?"

"Nah. Let it be a surprise."

"A surprise? Or a shock," I chuckle.

His eyes scan my face. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah… yeah. Maybe getting ready now will be a good distraction from my nerves."

I start to get up so we can shower, but he stops me and grabs my face with both hands to kiss me.

"Hey. Don't be nervous. I fucking love you," he says against my lips. "So much."

I smile. "I know."

"Good."

We undress on our way to the bathroom because we can.

In one way, it's strange having him in my space. In all other aspects, it feels good. It feels right.

"I was thinking…" he prompts in the shower, scrubbing his hair.

"Thinking what?"

"I wanna stay with you."

"Good," I agree. "I didn't want you going back to the hotel tonight anyway."

I wash my face. With my eyes closed, we switch spots so I can rinse, and I feel his hands hovering so I don't fall.

"I'm staying with you for good," he clarifies. "Moving in. I don't want to be away from you, and it'd be pointless for me to get my own place, right?"

"Right," I say under the stream of water, my back to him.

When I turn around to look at him, he's so, so serious.

"We can work through this and go to therapy, whatever we need to do, but we can be together while we do it," he adds.

My heart hasn't felt so buoyant or hopeful in a long fucking time.

"What?" he asks. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing." I move closer and kiss him, threading my fingers through his wet hair. "I'm just excited. Ready for us to begin our lives here in LA."

Ready for us to do whatever work we need to do to heal.

He squeezes both of my hips and pulls me into a hug. "Me too, baby."

We finish washing up, but I only have one towel hanging.

"We can just share that one," he reassures me as I get out, leaving him under the running water.

"After I dry my hair and body it'll be too damp. I'll go get you another one."

I quickly dry off and as I walk down the hall to the linen closet, I hear his phone ringing in the living room.

When the call ends, it starts ringing again.

With my towel clutched around me, I go searching for his phone. I follow the muffled sound toward the pile of clothes we left on the living room floor.

Picking up his jeans, I dig in one of the pockets.

I feel something strange and pull out a ring.

My wedding ring.

I cover my shocked gasp.

I want to slip it on my hand. Casually show back up in the bathroom wearing diamonds and nothing else to see if he notices.

But I also want him to surprise me with it when he's ready. I think he has a plan, and I don't want to ruin that. So I put it back where I found it because, for him, I can be patient.

If it's loose in his pocket though I imagine he's going to give it to me very soon.

Like tonight.

I hope it's tonight.

I find his phone in his other pocket and see Allie called twice and sent a text.

Without thinking, I unlock his phone by typing in my birthday and I read her message. She's asking him where they should go to dinner tonight.

I smile to myself because little does she know that I'll be joining them, too.

I start to lock his phone but something nags at me.

Curiosity.

It's inherent I think. The urge to snoop after being apart for so long.

After everything, I do trust him.

He said he has nothing to hide, and I trust that, too.

But I still can't stop myself from going through his phone.

I tell myself it's fine. He said I could. He gave me the okay, and I didn't take him up on it then, but I'm taking him up on it now.

Even as I do it, I know I'll come clean. I know I'll tell him immediately after I walk into the bathroom.

He calls out my name, curious about where I am.

I yell back it'll be a minute and continue scrolling through photos. Text conversations. DMs on Instagram. Some random women have sent him messages but they've been left on "read." He hasn't replied to any of them. And some he hasn't even opened.

I feel so much relief but it's also overshadowed by guilt.

I feel shitty.

He was right—I found nothing.

And I feel like less than nothing now.

Snooping wasn't worth it to feel this way.

I start to walk back to the bathroom, ready to tell him what I did, but pause because something is still bugging me.

I open his texts again.

I scroll and scroll but can't find Maria's name at all.

They worked together for years. Weirdly, there isn't a single conversation between them.

I convince myself maybe I haven't scrolled back far enough. So I type her name into the search bar but zero conversations come up.

Maybe I should be happy, but all I feel is dread because I can't fight the feeling that he deleted their text thread.

I try not to jump to worst-case scenarios as I walk back to the bathroom but I can't stop from thinking he didn't want me to see something they'd talked about.

Turning off the shower and opening the curtain, Edward stands there naked. He sees his phone in my hand but doesn't look panicked.

"No extra towels?" he asks.

"Sorry. I… no. Allie called you. I got distracted and forgot to get you a towel."

"Did you answer?" he asks, looking amused. "What'd she say?"

"I didn't answer." I blink, focusing on him. "I went through your phone."

His expression is unreadable. "It's okay. I said that you could."

"Yeah. Where are your texts with Maria?"

He's not outright panicked, but his expression changes.

It's so, so subtle. But I see it.

It's in his eyes.

The way he swallows.

It's in the split second of strained silence.

"What texts?" he asks.

My head feels muddled. "Like… your… your fucking messages. There's no text thread with her. At all. Almost like you deleted it entirely or something."

He reaches for his phone now.

I don't hand it over.

"Why did you delete your texts with her?" I demand.

"Bella—"

"Just tell me." I can feel panic and emotion rising in my chest now. I try to stay calm. It's nothing. There's a good reason why he deleted their texts. There has to be. He just needs to tell me.

But he says nothing.

"I thought we were going to be honest with each other," I mumble.

He still doesn't answer me.

My stomach lurches.

"I mean… haven't you been honest with me?" I ask, my voice so, so small.

When he shakes his head the movement is so faint it's almost like it didn't happen.

And then he says: "I'm… I'm sorry."

His face blurs from the tears in my eyes. "What did you lie to me about, Edward? Why are you sorry?"

"Let me get dressed and we can talk."

"No… no. Talk now. Did you delete your messages because you didn't want me to read something?"

He hesitates. "Yes."

I wipe my eyes. I don't want to cry about this. Not yet. Not until I know why I'm supposed to be crying.

"What? Tell me exactly what you didn't want me to read."

He scrubs a hand over his mouth and steps out of the shower.

"What did you not want me to fucking read?" I demand again, louder. I can feel myself unraveling. I'm still holding it together, but I know whatever he's about to say will undo me.

"Bella…"

"Tell me."

"I didn't want you to see a conversation we had…" He fists his wet hair, uncertainty flashing on his face. "I… I did something. A while ago. And she wasn't happy about it."

My mind spirals.

"Wasn't happy about what? Why does she care what you do?" I blurt, needing to know. "Did you sleep with her a second time?" I ask, needing it to make sense.

He shakes his head, and even though I feel so much fucking relief, his expression doesn't ease the worry in my heart.

"No. I didn't sleep with… Maria."

For a split second, I'm confused.

Then I realize while he's admitting he didn't sleep with Maria, he might have with someone else.

I'm too stunned to feel sick.

Too shocked and hurt to feel angry.

I don't want to believe it. Don't want it to be true.

It can't be.

There's no way.

He said he didn't. He was adamant. He was pissed at me for getting flowers from Peter, for thinking I'd slept with someone else.

"You said you didn't," I cry. "You said… you told me. You—"

"I know," he says gently. "I know."

He reaches for me.

I step back.

I don't want him to touch me.

It doesn't make sense.

Not after everything.

Not after the last year apart.

Not after the past twenty-four hours together.

Not after how hard he's tried. How honest and vulnerable he's been with me.

"You slept with someone else?" I somehow manage to ask. "You lied?"

With tears in his eyes, he finally nods.

And my fractured heart shatters.

Okay, so. The story isn't over yet, and I'm sorry.

The ending wasn't feeling like an ending to me as I was editing, things were coming up, and I wanted to explore some stuff... and then shit happened. As always, there's a plan, but we're halfway through the story now instead of at the end.

Mistakes are mine. Huge, huge thanks to all of the lovely ladies who have held my hand over the last month, been down with this direction, and dealt with my daily meltdowns.

It's so fun to play with these characters and I adore the fandom, but damn, y'all are a scary readership sometimes LOL

Chapters 26 & 27 are EPOV.