5

Ten minutes later, the small house was filled with the smell of sizzling bacon. Emmett had added half a dozen eggs to the skillet perched over the fire and brought Bella another cup of Miracle Juice. The ache in her head had shifted from searing pain to tolerable ache, and Emmett had allowed her off the bed so she could use the bathroom.

His house — if you could call it that — wasn't much bigger than a shack. There were three rooms: Emmett's bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen. Once Bella washed her hands, she slowly returned to the bedroom, thankful for the heat the roaring fire offered. She was an Arizona girl; she didn't do cold, and it was freezing. To her, at least. Emmett had stripped off his long-sleeved button-up, leaving him in a white tank-top style undershirt. It was then she noticed the tattoo on his left shoulder: a blue butterfly edged in orange with the initials M.A. under it.

"Nice ink," Bella told him as she crawled back onto the bed and wrapped the blanket around her. "Who's M.A.?"

Emmett's shoulders tensed as he lobbed his head in her direction. "My daughter."

"You have a kid?" she asked, surprised.

"Had," he murmured. "For ten hours, three minutes, and sixteen seconds."

"Oh."

"She was born too soon. Never had a chance."

Bella bit the inside of her lip, wishing she'd never asked about the stupid tattoo. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he reassured her. "It's not often I get to talk about my little Mary Alice. I held her every second she lived. Told her I loved her and promised never to forget her. After I buried her, I got this tattoo. Guess it was my way of always having her near, you know?"

"Yeah, sure." Bella was unsure of what to say. Guilt rocked through her for even bringing the tattoo up in the first place.

"You have any children, Bella?" Emmett asked, picking up two plates and dividing the bacon between the two of them.

"Um, no," she said quietly. "My husband and I tried for years, but . . . Anyway, I have my career, so . . ."

"And your husband, right? You have him, too."

"No," she admitted. "No, I don't have him anymore. We're getting divorced. Things . . . Things haven't been good for a long time, I guess."

The words felt odd, and fake, and she wondered why she felt so comfortable sharing her story with a man she'd just met. He could be a serial killer, a monster. But then again, if he intended to hurt her, he would have done so while she was unconscious, wouldn't he?

"He hit you?" Emmett asked.

"No."

"He called you names? Mistreated you?"

"Well . . . no," she said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "It's nothing like that. We just . . . I don't know. Life just got too hard, I guess. We wanted a family, but when that didn't happen, I started focusing on my career, and Edward, my husband, started focusing more on his teaching. He's a college professor. And last month he told me he'd slept with his teaching assistant. And . . . Well, I can't trust him anymore, so . . ."

"Okay, then."

"What? You think I'm wrong?"

"None of my business, is it?" Emmett stated. "But since you asked, I'll be real honest. I think you're quitting because your feelings got hurt. Let me ask you, Bella, do you still love him?"

"Of course I do," she insisted. "He's been a part of my life since I was fourteen."

"But are you in love with him?" Emmett pulled the skillet out of the fire, splitting them between their plates. Shifting on his chair, he held one out to Bella, who accepted it gracefully. "Tell me to mind my own, and I will, but I know firsthand what it's like to lose the love of your life. My wife never got to hold Mary Alice. She died on the table while our daughter fought for every breath of air in her lungs. One minute, I was a happily married man with a beautiful little girl on the way, and the next, my world had been shattered. I'd give everything to have my wife and daughter back. Everything, Bella. So before you throw away your marriage, throw away twenty years with your husband, ask yourself if you're in love with him. Because if you are, then maybe — just maybe — he's worth fighting for."

"And if he's not?" she asked, barely able to speak above a whisper.

"Then he's not, but letting your hurt feelings get the best of you isn't going to make you any happier."

And Emmett didn't say another word about her and Edward's marriage.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! And big thanks to Sunflower Fran for cleaning up my messes.