If you like music lol: Gracie Abrams - "I know it won't work"

Y'all are the best.

33
- you will love me until you resent me -

Feeling drained, yet oddly productive after my first therapy appointment, I find the courage to reach out to Maria on Instagram because I don't have her number, and I'm not about to ask Edward for it.

Hey, honey, I know we haven't talked in over a month and the last time I saw you, both of our hearts were breaking. Can I have the woman's number who made me jealous and insecure enough to run away from you?

Yeah.

Not happening.

So, I figure a private message on Instagram is the best way to reach her.

I keep it simple, telling her I'd appreciate it if we could talk at some point because there are some things I need to ask her. I don't have a real plan, but figure I'll know what I want to say when I'm forced to speak. Anxiety threatens to overwhelm me, but I give her my number anyway, asking her to message me if she's willing to talk.

A few hours later, I get a text from her.

It's early, only eight p.m., but I'm already in bed because if I'm not drinking the night away there isn't much else to do with my evenings.

Before I read Maria's message, I pause SportsCenter.

It's a masochistic habit I've picked up over the last few weeks since his debut on the show. Having Edward so readily available on my television is a blessing and a curse. But I can't help it. I don't know what he and Rosalie are talking about half the time but I don't watch for sports info.

I watch for him.

He's always the picture of control and ease and perfectly timed banter. He's always lazy smiles and deep, throaty laughs.

I watch to see if I can pick up on how he's feeling, what he's thinking.

But I can't.

I watch to see if he still wears his wedding ring.

And he does.

I'm not sure what to make of that.

With the screen paused on his handsome face, I read Maria's message.

Maria: Hey, Bella, it's Maria. Surprised to hear from you, but definitely willing to talk! Call or text me whenever.

I take her up on her willingness and call right away. Maybe it's eager and desperate but I can't pretend I'm not both of those things.

"That was fast," she says instead of hello, answering on the second ring.

"Sorry. You might not have meant call or text now, but…"

"No, no. I get it. Really."

There's a pause, and I can hear people in the background wherever she is.

I'm suddenly more nervous than I thought I'd be and I grasp onto her social life as an out to end this phone call.

"If you're busy we can talk later," I say.

"No, it's all good," she insists. "Just give me a second."

The line goes silent like she muted the call. I appreciate the momentary pause because this is more awkward and painful than I thought it would be.

The last time I heard her voice my husband had just been inside of her. The last time I saw her in person, she was freshly fucked and ready for another round with him.

What the fuck am I doing?

I'm going to be sick.

I almost hang up but then she's back on the line, the space around her quieter.

"Okay," she says breezily. "So. How are you?"

I get out of bed and pace my room, forcing myself to take deep breaths, my nausea waning.

"I'm…" Not okay. I'm broken. I'm stuck. I'm a fucking masochist for wanting to talk to her. I pause my nervous pacing. I don't know what to say, so I blurt: "Edward lives here now. In LA."

"Yeah, I heard. SportsCenter," she says with a whistle. "Sellout."

I feel a stab of defensiveness for him and this new career he chose. "You think so?"

"No, not really. Everyone at the podcast network gave him shit, but we were all happy for him. And I understand why he did it," she says.

I try my hardest not to let jealousy take over.

She knows why he moved here, why he switched careers.

She knew what he was up to when I didn't.

She picked up the pieces.

She comforted him.

She—

"He did it for you," she finally says, calming my aching heart.

I guess that gives me confirmation that Edward truly did leave the podcast and move here for me. I guess that wasn't a lie.

"Have you talked to him recently?" I ask, unsure if I actually want to know that answer.

If she says yes, I will rage. Fly to Seattle, grab her by the hair, and tell her to never fucking talk to him again.

I'd have no right though.

No claim over him now that I've given him up.

"No. We haven't talked since…" She pauses. "Like, late October? I think. Somewhere around there."

I almost feel bad for being so hostile toward her in my thoughts when she's willing to talk to me.

"Do you know why I messaged you?" I finally have the courage to ask.

"Well, I figure it has to do with someone named… Kim?"

The fact that Maria says her name leaves zero room for second-guessing and makes me trust her a little more than I would have initially. I don't get the vibe she will cover for Edward, and I like that.

"Yeah. It's about Kim."

"Did he tell you?"

"Not at first. I found out on my own like a month ago, and then he admitted it when I confronted him."

I don't tell her anything else. I don't want her to know Edward and I are currently split up and on our way to divorce.

"How'd you find out?" she asks.

I'm embarrassed to admit it but, "I went through his phone and thought it was weird his text thread with you was completely deleted. I initially thought something happened between you two…"

She's quiet and my anxiety spikes enough for me to need to sit down on the bed.

"You mean something other than that one night, at the hotel?" she clarifies.

My throat is dry. "Yeah."

"No," she laughs. "It was never like that, despite what you think. He's not really my type. He's too…" She pauses. "Well, it doesn't matter. He's just not my type. He would share stuff with me after you left, but I think it was only because he didn't want to tell any of his friends about what happened."

"Tell you stuff like what?" I push.

"A lot of things," she says vaguely before expanding. "I can't remember any exact conversations. Sometimes he was pissed. Sometimes he was just really down and feeling guilty."

"So he was talking shit about me to you?" I ask defensively.

"No, not like that. More pissed at the situation. He never said anything bad about you, Bella. He missed you too much," she tells me. "I'll be honest, though, it got old after a while."

"What did?"

"His constant whining about you," she says lightly, and I almost, almost smile.

I almost cry.

My emotions are all over the fucking place.

"So, Kim is your roommate? I ask.

"Yes."

"Do you know if anything happened with them after that night?"

"No, it was just the one time as far as I know."

"So, you weren't trying to set them up? He wasn't purposely trying to get with her?"

"No. Truthfully, I was pissed at both of them when I found out."

"Why?"

"Because it was really messy of him, and made things a little weird between my roommate and me. She kind of had the strange hope it was going to be more. I had to lay it to her straight, that it wasn't going to happen, and yeah. It was a whole thing."

"A whole thing?" I echo, annoyed Edward didn't tell me about any of this. "Like, she told him she wanted more but he didn't?"

"No. Edward didn't know any of that. I don't think they even talked after that night. I told her to back off, let him deal with his stuff. Honestly, he'd been in a really fucking bad place for months, and sleeping with her was the stupidest thing he could've done," she says evenly.

"Yeah, it was stupid. Having you on his podcast even after I expressed that it made me really fucking uncomfortable wasn't the best idea, either," I say honestly, maybe even a little hotly.

"Yeah. I later heard that from him, too. To which I believe I called him a dumbass," she chuckles. I wish I could laugh and find this entire thing humorous, but I just can't. "From what I understand, he was trying to keep things normal at the studio. I think he was worried if he made a big stink about not having me on, it would make people raise eyebrows. I don't know."

"He shouldn't have been worried about other people," I say, anger rising in my chest. "He should've been worried about me. His fucking wife."

Soon-to-be ex-wife.

"I agree, Bella. I really do. And I don't want you to think he was walking around work, flirting with me or anything. He kept his distance after that night at the hotel. It made for weird interactions between us, but I understood what was happening. I figured you two regretted that night, but I wasn't going to step on anyone's toes and address it."

I sigh. "I watched the podcast y'all did. Nothing about that screamed weird. It seemed like you two were enjoying yourselves."

"It's work. I can turn it on for the camera. So can he," she says simply. "Fake it till you make it."

My eyes flick toward the television, the frame frozen on his face. The brief thought that maybe that's what he's doing now crosses my mind and crushes me with guilt.

"I'm not sure if you need me to say this or not, but no part of me wanted him or ever entertained the idea of being with him until you invited me to join y'all," Maria adds.

The reminder is a harsh truth that I started this.

I bite the inside of my cheek, my memory of that conversation not as hazy as I'd like.

It was after an event their podcast network threw. Many drinks were consumed, and a small group of us were going out afterward. I approached Edward and we decided I'd talk to Maria. Later that night, when I had a minute alone with her outside, I hinted at what we wanted to happen. I was subtle, but she caught on and was game.

I wish I could take so many things back.

Hearing that she didn't think of Edward that way confuses me, though. She sounds truthful, which makes me think I created their attraction in my head. I don't know why I picked her anyway. Don't really know why she was the woman we talked about most in bed. But without thinking too hard on it I'd say maybe it's because she's confident and cool, and I didn't feel like either of those things. I envied her in a way. And then I hated her for a situation I invited her to be a part of.

"Look, not to sound like a whiny bitch because it's a moot point, it honestly felt like I did something wrong," Maria finally says. "Which is confusing because I was only there because you wanted me to be. Or so I thought."

An overwhelming, confusing pang of regret twists in my stomach. "I'm sorry. I really am. I was going through some stuff. I still am. And that wasn't fair to you."

"Don't be sorry at all. I'm an adult. I made that decision because I thought it'd be fun, but yeah. Most awkward non-threesome ever…"

I can't help but laugh a little at the absurdity of this all, and she joins in, too.

"I'm so embarrassed," I mumble.

"Shit happens. Whatever."

There's a lull in the conversation and I let it pass, grateful for her straight-forward attitude.

"So, what did you say to Edward about Kim? He felt the need to delete the entire text conversation, so…" I prompt, already feeling guilty for bringing it up again.

"Well, I didn't delete the conversation from my end. I can send you screenshots if you want."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I don't know how much it will help, but I don't mind."

I think really hard about taking her up on her offer. Of course, a huge part of me wants to read their conversation. I want to see exactly what Edward said, especially since he thought I'd never read it.

But what's the point now?

I pushed him away to give him a better life. A healthier life.

He willingly let me go, too, for all the same reasons.

"You're hesitating," Maria points out.

"Yeah. I had zero trouble going through his phone a month ago, but now my conscience is kicking in. Great timing, huh?"

"Do you trust him?" she asks pointedly.

"Should I?" I ask with a small scoff, realizing that no, I still don't trust him.

"Not my place to say. But if your answer wasn't an outright yes, you should read it. It might help. Might not. But at the very least, you won't have to wonder."

"Okay," I agree reluctantly. "Send them over. And… thank you."

"No problem."

A few minutes after we hang up, a series of screenshots come through. I note the date of their exchange—near the end of October—so the timeline adds up for when I sent him the divorce papers, and when Maria claimed they'd last talked.

With a heavy, anxious heart, I read their texts.

Edward is distraught over what he did with Kim, that is clear to me. He says he regrets it. At least now I know he was telling the truth about that, and it was only a one-time thing that he never wanted to happen again.

Maria gives him some hell and tells him to get his shit together, and that whenever I do finally reach out to him, he needs to do whatever he can to fight for me.

His next words hurt.

Bella doesn't want me anymore.

It physically hurts me to read that. A deep ache settles hard in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I can feel his pain in that one sentence. I can feel what he's not conveying. The resignation. The rejection. I know what it's like to feel unwanted and unloved, and I hate that I've made him feel that way, too.

I start to cry.

Start to regret.

But then I scroll down, and the next part of their conversation makes me pause.

Maria: Do you think you'll tell her about Kim?

Edward: No.

One word.

One truth.

He wasn't going to tell me.

I'm not quite sure how to take that.

In some ways, I get why he wouldn't want to confess to me.

In others, I don't.

One of the things I needed most from him was honesty, and he couldn't give it to me.

But there were things he probably needed from me, too, that I couldn't fulfill for him.

The old me would call him with this news and toss it back in his face.

See? I fucking knew you were never going to tell me, you lying, manipulative bastard.

It's tempting.

But the new me is eerily calm.

Maybe it's because a month has passed and things feel less intense.

Maybe it's because I've accepted that he wouldn't have had the opportunity to lie if I hadn't left him.

Maybe it's because we've already decided not to reconcile, so what's the point? Telling him about this would prove nothing. Solve nothing. It'd be further twisting the knife for both of us and we've dealt with enough pain.

Grabbing the remote, I turn off the TV, his face disappearing from the screen.

It's going to be hard and I hate this with every part of my soul, but now more than ever I truly believe it's time for us to move on.

XXX

The next day while I'm editing photos, I get three calls before nine a.m. but let them all go to voicemail.

I listen to them later while I eat lunch alone, celebrating my birthday by ordering tacos.

The first voicemail is from Allie, wishing me a happy birthday, apologizing again, and asking if we can talk.

I delete it.

The second is an automated call from my new doctor's office, reminding me of the upcoming appointment I made so I can talk about starting antidepressants.

I save that one.

And the last voicemail is from my lawyer.

"Hi, Bella, it's Sue. I wanted to let you know that Mr. Cullen finally signed the divorce papers. His lawyer requested to have them reissued a couple of weeks ago because apparently, he lost his copy. We just received them today. He's finally agreeing to everything you outlined, but there is one thing we need still to sort out with the house in Seattle. Call me back when you can so we can get everything squared away. The sooner we deal with this, the faster you'll be divorced. Thanks!"