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39
- it's not the same as it was -
After my tears slow down, Rosalie hands me a tissue and gestures toward the couch for us to sit down.
I glance around the small space, similar to the one I was just in with Edward.
"Is this your dressing room?" I quietly ask, stifling the embarrassment I feel from breaking down in front of her.
She nods, concern creasing her camera-ready face.
"Are you okay? Did Edward get pissed at you because he knows we're friends?" she asks gently as I wipe my nose. "He overheard me say your name and asked me if I was talking about you. That's why I texted you earlier that we needed to talk. I wanted to give you a heads-up. I'm sorry, Bella."
"It's fine," I sniffle. "I don't care if he knows we're friends. Yeah, he's upset, but not about that."
Her worry doesn't lessen. "Then what's going on? Why are you so upset?"
I'm scared to tell her the truth. But I also just want to be real with someone.
Feeling raw and exposed after the confrontation with Edward, I don't have it in me to pretend I'm okay anymore.
Everything spills out of me.
Mexico. Levi. My doctor's appointment. How I kept my pregnancy a secret for the last two weeks. Coming here tonight to tell Edward the bittersweet news and his finding out about Levi immediately after, then lashing out at me with insults and accusations.
I don't pause for her reactions or questions. I just keep going, knowing if I stop, I might shut down altogether.
Many emotions flash over Rosalie's face as I tell her everything. Surprise, confusion, shock, worry, anger, and then… nothing. She's eerily neutral by the end and I can't tell what she's thinking at all.
"You're pregnant?" she asks, voice just a whisper.
"Yes," I say even quieter.
"And you found out two weeks ago?"
I just nod.
She goes quiet again, so I fill the silence.
"I was nervous to tell you. And I didn't want to tell anyone before today because I was scared I'd… that I wouldn't be pregnant," I admit, unable to say the word miscarry. Her lack of reply spurs on more truths. "And I lied to you. Last week when you invited me out to dinner to finally meet Emmett, I said a photoshoot ran late, but in reality, I fell asleep on the couch because I was so tired. My boobs are sore and huge, and I'm so hungry but nothing tastes good. I'm exhausted and scared and I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm just… I don't know, Rosalie."
Still, she stays quiet and contemplative.
"Say something," I finally mumble, nervously balling my tissue in my fist.
"Okay, but do you want me to be honest with you?" she asks.
I'm unsure if I want that but still say, "Please. Yes."
"The way Edward reacted." Her eyes darken a bit with a protectiveness I've never had in a friend before. "I want to hurt him."
"He's hurting enough already," I mumble guiltily, eyes filling with fresh tears that I wipe away.
"I'm sure he is, but that doesn't give him the right to treat you like shit and accuse you of lying about the baby being his. And suggesting you're after his money? Screw that. It was low, and if I knew it wouldn't start a scene I'd march down to his dressing room and tell him as much."
"Please don't. Yeah, it was low, but it also wasn't him," I defend, hoping—knowing—in my heart that he didn't mean some of the stuff he said. "That's not who he is. Or it's not who he was before we started the divorce. And he was happy. When I told him about the baby. He was really happy."
Her face softens a bit. "Look. You know him better than I do. I'm still pissed for you, though. His jerk behavior aside, I'm a little disappointed you slept with someone else because I'm pretty sure you're still in love with Edward. I'm not upset for his sake, but I worry for you… you know? I worry about you beating yourself up over it and not truly being ready."
She's worried about my heart.
I wasn't expecting how painfully true her words would be, or how they would resonate with me, a reflection of my own feelings. My own regret.
"I know," I whisper.
"I'm also not sure if coming to the studio to tell Edward you're pregnant was the best idea, but… what's done is done."
I blink, but I take her words to heart instead of growing defensive.
"I know coming here was a mistake. I didn't think it through. I was just so excited and ready to share the news. His phone was off and he still hadn't reached out to me when he said he would, so I panicked."
"I get it. I mean, I'm sure your hormones aren't helping you think straight either." She watches me. "As for the baby…"
From her brief pause, my negativity spirals.
"You think I don't deserve it. That my life is a fucking mess," I finish for her, chin trembling as I mumble my fears that I assume are her thoughts.
I think it's clear to both of us at this moment how much her new friendship and approval mean to me.
Rosalie searches my face. "Hearing that you're pregnant is a shocker. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm the tiniest bit sad for myself for obvious reasons but… I'm so happy for you, Bella. Seriously. What makes me sad is what you just said. Do you really think I believe you don't deserve this baby? Do you think that you don't deserve this baby?"
I really, truly consider her question and answer with brutal honesty.
"I don't know if I deserve it, but I want it. So badly," I whisper, smiling through my tears. "And yeah, okay, my life is a wreck but I want to do whatever I can to make the best of this situation. Because it is a good thing. It's the best thing. And if I have to do it alone…" I trail off, pain squeezing my heart while imagining a potential future without Edward in whatever capacity I can have him. "Then I have to do it alone."
Rosalie's eyes fill with tears, her face softening.
"You're right, a baby is the best thing. You do deserve this. And you won't have to do it alone." It sounds like a promise, and as she hugs me, I realize what she's saying.
Even if I don't have Edward, I'll still have her support.
XXX
A week later, my mom calls on Thanksgiving.
It's rare to hear from her. She called last week, too, but I sent her to voicemail. I don't necessarily want to answer this time, either, but I do.
"Hey. So, we were going to go to your Aunt Liz's today, but she canceled at the last minute because, supposedly, her hip is bothering her," Renee says after I merely say hello.
She always does that—starts speaking as if we were already talking. But we weren't. We haven't. Other than the occasional text, I haven't talked to my parents in months and I've been okay with that.
I'm certainly not jumping at sharing the news that they'll be grandparents at the end of May. I have no idea when I'll tell them, but I'm not going to worry about that now.
My eyes instinctively flick toward the bare spot on the fridge where the sonogram used to be. I accidentally left it behind in Edward's dressing room last week. I just hope he's kept it safe.
I zone back into the one-sided conversation, and my mom is still talking about her ruined plans for the day.
"Oh no," I say flatly, sipping my coffee at the kitchen table, forking the last bite of omelet into my mouth. "I mean, Dad's sister does have hip problems. And she's pushing eighty. Should she still be expected to host holiday dinners? Can't you do it?"
"She took it upon herself to host holidays when your grandmother passed. And that's beside the point. Now we have nowhere to go, and all of the turkeys at the store are frozen."
"You don't eat meat, anyway."
"It's Thanksgiving, Bella. There has to be a turkey." There's some commotion in the background and I can hear my dad speaking but can't hear what he's saying. "Oh, good! Your dad ran into our neighbor and they invited us over to their place today."
"But you hate the neighbors," I remind her, earning a scoff.
"Thanksgiving is all about coming together and putting aside your differences," she says, but all I hear is we're moochers and take advantage of others' kindness when it benefits us.
I'm taken back to the first—and last—Thanksgiving Charlie and Renee spent with the Cullens after Edward and I got married.
My parents contributed nothing to the meal and showed up with Tupperware in hand, assuming they'd get to take leftovers home. That could've been overlooked, but Renee also drank too much, helping herself to their wine collection, and Charlie took it upon himself to uncork a bottle of red without asking. It was a pinot the Cullens brought back from Italy and had been saving for a special occasion. I was so embarrassed, but Esme and Carlisle were graceful and generous and didn't let the moment feel shameful.
When Esme asked if my parents were joining the year after, I merely said they had other plans.
When my mom asked what time the Cullens' dinner was, I lied and said they were keeping it small, only immediate family.
"So, what are your plans for the day?" Renee asks, bringing me out of the past.
Weeks ago, before Rosalie found out I was pregnant, she'd invited me to the Friendsgiving she and Emmett are hosting later this evening.
I didn't outright accept her invitation when she extended it. I didn't want a pity invite after she'd asked what I was doing and I didn't have an answer. I also had a somewhat guilty conscience about hiding my pregnancy from her and wasn't sure how she was going to take the news whenever she did find out.
But just yesterday, I decided to accept her invitation. Rosalie's excitement over my simple text of asking what I could bring made me feel more accepted than I have in a while.
It's her friendship and kindness that's starting to make this city feel like home finally.
Rosalie did give me the heads up that there's a chance Edward could be there today, too, since the invite was extended to anyone in the studio who wanted to drop by. It's a casual come-and-go-as-you-please thing, not a formal dinner.
If he is there, it'll be the first time I've seen him in a week.
There has been absolute silence between us ever since I told him I was pregnant. He hasn't reached out, and though I want to, I want to respect the space he asked for.
The space and silence are killing me but I'm also scared when we do eventually talk he'll say he wants nothing to do with me and our baby.
Deep down, I know that can't be true. But my hormones aren't playing fair lately. Neither is my subconscious because last night I dreamt that Edward came over and demanded his chair back. We fought about it, but I don't remember what was said, I just remember feeling helpless and enraged.
With a cruel sneer, Dream Edward struck a deal then—I'd get to keep his leather chair, but he'd get to keep our baby. I don't remember what happened after that but I woke up with tears on my cheeks and anxiety in my chest.
I've been having a lot of terrible, vivid dreams since I told Edward he's going to be a father—dreams of custody battles and paternity tests gone wrong. In one, Peter was the father. In another, it was Levi.
I'm not sure if a paternity test is still something Edward wants or if it was something he said in the heat of the moment. But I did look into it and was grateful to find out it's noninvasive. All it will take is a blood test from me and a simple cheek swab from him to confirm what I already know.
"I'm going to a friend's for Thanksgiving," I tell my mom, keeping it vague. "She and her husband don't have any family in LA, so they host a casual thing with other people who don't really have anywhere else to go, too."
"Well, you do have a place to go," my mom chides. "You could come home for once and stop acting like you're so embarrassed by us."
It's not an act, I think, but bite my tongue.
I haven't spent a holiday with my parents in years, and I'm not about to start now, especially without Edward as a buffer.
"The timing didn't work out," I say, not a lie. "I work tomorrow, and I had an appointment yesterday."
In yesterday's therapy session, I finally told Jane about the pregnancy. She's officially the third person I've told that I'm expecting.
She stayed calm and curious, asking all of the right—yet difficult—questions.
It was a good conversation.
An emotional one.
She started by asking how I felt about it and I confided that although I was nervous that I didn't deserve this bit of happiness, I sure as hell wanted it.
We talked through that for a while, with her gently guiding me to figure out why I didn't feel deserving.
It was hard to narrow down exactly, but I decided that since getting pregnant hadn't happened for so long, I'd decided I was a failure. Coupled with the obvious mistakes I had made in my marriage, I was convinced I was a bad, selfish person who didn't deserve anything good.
"Let me ask you something," Jane prompted. "If you had a friend who had difficulty getting pregnant, would you call her a failure?"
"No," I said immediately, thinking of Rosalie.
"And if you had a friend who had gotten divorced, would you tell her she's a bad, selfish person who doesn't deserve anything good in her life?"
I thought about Allie. "No. Of course not."
"Then why do you tell yourself those things?" Jane wondered.
I didn't have an answer.
"For the next week, I want you to change your way of thinking," she said like it was simple. "For every negative thought you have, I want you to intentionally think of two positives immediately after. It takes practice but we want to weed out the false thoughts and focus on the true ones."
The conversation shifted gears after that and she brought up Edward and how he took the news of the pregnancy.
I recalled what happened with him, and she stayed sympathetic but stern, reminding me that trust goes both ways. She acknowledged that his asking for a paternity test might have hurt me, but he's likely hurting too, and a lot of that stems from him maybe not trusting me anymore.
Hearing that hurt. I wanted to be mad and defend myself. How could he not trust me when he was the one who lied? But I knew what she said was true.
I'd broken his trust long ago by leaving him.
Now I'm pregnant with his baby, forever tied to him.
Near the end of our session, Jane asked if I had thought about how things would work with Edward moving forward. When I hesitated, she clarified—did I think we could reconcile before the divorce was final? Was I okay just co-parenting with him?
It was the second time I didn't have an answer for her.
Likely sensing my uncertainty, Jane reassured me that although things felt overwhelming, she didn't doubt that with time, effort, and honesty, Edward and I could be successful in whatever direction we decided.
I hoped it was true.
"So, was that Edward we saw on SportsCenter the other day?" Renee wonders now over the line.
This must be the real reason why she called me.
"I don't know, was it?" I fire back, already feeling defensive.
A huge part of me was always protective of what I had with Edward. And it seems I will always feel that way.
It was just last Thanksgiving when my parents found out I moved to Los Angeles and that Edward and I were splitting up. I don't know why I expected a little sympathy from them. When Renee told me "I guess marriage isn't for everyone" I shot back with, "Yeah, and I guess being a parent isn't, either."
I was drunk when we spoke, and my truthful, hurtful words sparked a fight between us. Thanks to the two bottles of wine I'd polished off that day, I honestly can't remember what all was said. And I'm okay with not knowing. She's seemingly okay with acting like it never happened too.
Avoidance. It's what our family is good at.
"What's the weather like there today?" I ask, blatantly shifting the subject, exercising that avoidance tactic now.
Renee takes the bait.
"You know, that's another thing about LA," she says like I just reminded her about something else to complain about. "Don't you miss having seasons?"
I do.
I miss crisp mornings. Golden leaves. Gray skies. I miss sitting on the deck and drinking hot coffee in the cool air, surrounded by the muted sounds of the city.
I miss a lot of things.
I miss Edward in the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning, making sweet potato casserole. It was the only thing he could make, and do well. It had been Allie's dish to contribute for years, but one year Edward decided he "wasn't going to tolerate any of that marshmallow shit that Allie likes to put on hers." So he learned how to make it, and they had a casserole competition.
After trying both recipes during dinner, everyone chose Edward's version of the dish. Even Allie.
I smile at the memory, tainted with the fondness of family, and try not to think about what the Cullens are doing today.
Unfortunately, when I hang up with my mom and open Instagram, I know exactly what they're doing.
They're celebrating the engagement of Allie and Jasper.
My stomach drops at the sudden news.
There's a whole slide of photos, and I swipe through them too quickly, looking for one person in particular and pausing when I find him.
I guess Edward flew home to be with his family for Thanksgiving.
I go back to the beginning, starting with the first picture in the series. Everyone is in the Cullens' backyard, surrounded by the very Pacific Northwest nature I miss. From what I can tell, it looks like Allie was under the impression an annual family photo was being captured because Edward, Esme, Carlisle, Allie, and Jasper are all facing the camera and smiling. They're in sweaters and scarves, all perfect and polished in plaid and wool.
It makes me yearn for the days when I was pressed protectively against Edward's side in family pictures.
In the second photo, Jasper is dropping to one knee.
In the third, Allie is covering her mouth in what seems like genuine surprise as he holds out a ring.
In the fourth, they're kissing while Esme and Carlisle look on with teary expressions.
Edward doesn't look emotional but he does look happy for his sister, lips pressed into a subdued grin.
The following photos are a flurry of hugs and smiles, and the last is a close-up of the glittering diamond. It's totally her style—gold band, round rock. Simple and timeless. Jasper did well. And he did it without my help.
Despite my initial shock and not having met Jasper at all, I do feel happy for Allie. She's moving on from her ex-husband Ben. She's not letting his infidelity keep her from trusting and loving again.
Mixed in with my joy for her is overwhelming remorse. It's not the fear of missing out, though. It's just plain ole feeling excluded because I'm well aware that I am missing out.
Their lives are moving on without me.
Even if it was my choice, and I'm still hurt over what happened between Allie and me when I tried to confide in her, I can't help but wish I were there.
Seeing this joyous moment in their family makes me wonder if Edward shared any news of his own. But I doubt he did. He's too private and he's not one to steal the spotlight.
And if he truly thinks the baby isn't his, I doubt he'd tell his family.
A protective rage replaces the lonely ache in my chest. I wasn't lying to Rosalie when I said if I have to raise this baby alone, I will. I'm scared beyond belief and unsure about so much, but without a doubt, this baby will be my priority and I'll make sure he or she never feels a lack of love or support. Ever.
I'm mid-pity-party when a text from Rosalie flashes on my screen.
Rosalie: outfit for next year for the little turkey?
It's a photo of a gender-neutral infant onesie that says "My first Thanksgiving." Quickly, my morose mood turns hopeful.
I "love" the picture.
Bella: it's so cute.
Rosalie: I know! it's organic cotton too! I already bought it, hope you don't mind! I'm just so excited.
Bella: I don't mind at all, I love it. Thank you.
Rosalie: I was thinking maybe you should tell Edward you're coming here today for Thanksgiving. Just so he doesn't feel blindsided if he does show up. What do you think?
I appreciate her consideration of him. Even if I didn't have proof he was in Seattle, I doubt he'd plan on going to her place anyway.
Bella: No need. His sister posted pictures from her engagement this morning. He's in the photos, so… he's in Seattle.
Rosalie: Oh, wow. I guess he flew out after work yesterday?
Bella: I guess.
Rosalie: That's exciting, right? For his sister, I mean.
Bella: Yeah, it is.
I open Instagram again and look at Allie's photos. She really does look happy. Happier than I'd ever seen her with Ben. I remember taking the photos at their wedding and he seemed aloof. Distracted.
From behind the lens, I got major red flag vibes from Ben but it wasn't my place to say anything because I was just a casual acquaintance at that point, the woman hired to capture their happiest day.
I wasn't Edward's yet.
I wasn't family.
Allie might not be the friend or sister I once had, and I don't expect things to ever be the same between us since she told me to let Edward go because he deserves better.
But she'll always be in my life as my baby's aunt.
I want her to be present.
A constant.
I want my baby to be loved by as many people as it can.
I want my baby to be accepted and loved by the Cullens.
So I put my pride aside and I "love" Allie's post, a subtle way of offering my congratulations and acknowledging her happy news.
And then I text Edward.
Bella: I saw Allie and Jasper got engaged. That's really exciting, and I'm glad you were able to be there with your family. I hope you're doing okay after everything. I want to give you space, and I'm trying not to be needy or push you before you're ready to talk, but I'm scared. We're in this together whether you think so or not. I need you and I hate that I need you but
My thumbs pause, hovering over the letters of the keyboard, and delete the last few sentences. I start typing again, not making it all about me and keeping it positive, even if I feel anything but.
Bella: I saw Allie and Jasper got engaged. That's really exciting, and I'm glad you were able to be there with your family. I hope you're doing okay after everything. Happy Thanksgiving.
I reread my words then hit send.
It's not an olive branch.
I don't know what it is.
It mostly feels a little bit like acceptance and moving on while simultaneously being left behind.