A/N: Let's get back to weekends, shall we?
ETA: I have a new banner for this story. Suss out my profile if you want to see it.
Footprints in the Sand
Chapter 8
"He completely grilled me the whole time. I felt like I was on the stand," I burst to Alice in the same fluster I've remained in for the past twenty-four hours.
Fluster is the tip of the iceberg, though. I've been a basket case of exposed nerve since yesterday, and by all accounts, it's not about to ease anytime soon.
"Then why are you blushing?" she puts to me, quirking a sly brow.
We're back at La Marzocco for coffee seated on the leather sofa we usually occupy. The Barista recognized me immediately, and her eyes narrowed with obvious curiosity when she placed our order before us.
"Because... he's thrown me completely off balance, and he's... I have no idea what he is," I admit with a sigh before picking up my coffee and hoping the heat of it will snap my thoughts back into some form of coherency. "Oh god, he asked me about Renee..." I moan, wanting to bury my face in my hands and stay that way for eternity.
"So you have a dead-beat mother," she disregards, waving her hand.
"I'm beginning to think Rosalie was right about him having a wall around him. All those questions he asked me, and yet, he didn't volunteer a single detail about himself."
"Did you ask?"
"What could I say?"
"Um...'tell me about yourself'," she says in deliberate monotone.
I shrug a frustrated shoulder. "I didn't want to pry."
"It's not prying, it's getting to know one another," she says in exasperation. "You do realize that all those questions he asked you is a good thing, right? It means he's interested in you."
"Or he was trying to weed out any unpleasantness before he goes any further," I counter.
"You are such a pessimist. Also, getting a kiss on the forehead is really intimate. He actually sounds like a total—"
"It was a ricochet kiss after he backed out of actually kissing me," I correct her in a feeble attempt to bring her back down to earth. Despite Alice's assertions, there was nothing romantic about it at all.
It's true, he gave me a consolation kiss on the forehead, but chaste or not, I can't deny how good it felt to have him so close; his lips firm, warm...
"The way you described it was adorable as hell. You know how sexy it is when a guy as intimidating as he is gets all shy and uncertain of himself? I have no idea how you didn't jump him then and there."
"Maybe because he bolted after," I reply as Alice rolls her eyes. "He's ghosting me."
"It's been a day," she says skeptically.
"That's not the vibe I'm getting," I assert stubbornly.
"Bella, you thought he was gay," she reminds me, her eyebrows raising pointedly.
"Alice," I groan, "every instinct I have inside me is warning me against this. I'm going to get hurt if I get closer to him—and Addie!" I'm already attached to her, after all.
"When you feel something real for someone, the pain you could experience because of it becomes just as real. It's completely normal to panic," she describes matter-of-factly, munching on her oatmeal cookie, thoughtfully. "So the woman doing the calligraphy for my place cards spelled four names wrong—jesus!"
"Really?" I say cynically. Alice can so casually veer any conversation back to her impending wedding without an ounce of shame.
"Well, you're frustrating me!" she attempts to justify. "And why haven't you contacted him?"
"I have no idea what to say to him." Plus I'm worried about being bombarded with more questions if I do. "He tells me I react to him weirdly. I'm..."
"Weirdly?" she echoes suspiciously. "That's not what you first said."
"Whatever I said, it's made me self-conscious."
"Because you haven't been self-conscious, or neurotic"—she mutters the latter drolly beneath her breath—"since the moment you met him, or anything..."
"I heard that," I say, scowling at her.
"Where's the lie?"
"You're supposed to be on my side in all this," I complain.
She expels her breath in over exaggeration. "If I wasn't on your side I'd be telling you to get back together with that dick Tyler."
"I just... I don't know what I'm doing," I blurt with impatience, but it's not as if I ever did. "Okay, what's this big secret you need to tell me?"
She phoned me the afternoon before sounding all cryptic about some story she needed to pass on, but has alluded to it since we got here.
"Do you want to see him again?" She ignores my question and eyes me skeptically.
"Of course I do," I say without hesitation. "What's that—"
"Then what are you bitching about?" she cuts me off.
"I... I don't know," I mumble in defeat, returning my hand to my brow. "I'm so out of my comfort zone here I might as well be on Mars."
"I know," she says, planting her arm around my shoulder and squeezing. "Think of it this way, if you didn't like him, you wouldn't be having such an extreme reaction to him."
"That's true," I concede, "but he stares at me like I have two heads."
"He thinks you're beautiful," she says as if it were obvious. "Honestly, Bella."
"I don't know..." I cave, filling with continued doubt. I want this as much as I'm afraid of it. That's the only way I can describe it. "Are you going to tell me?" I nudge her back on topic, needing to get off this conversation of how Frowning Daddy turns me into a nervous wreck.
Drawing a deliberate breath, she takes the mug from my hand and sets it down on the coffee table before us. "Jay told me something about Edward's wife, but before I say anything, you have to promise me you won't tell him that you know."
"Of course I won't," I assure her, but this immediately feels wrong; to be discussing something so private to him behind his back.
"You're right, she died," she reveals somberly.
"Oh... Yeah, I mean it's pretty obvious?" I say in a quiet voice. "Do you know how?"
"An aneurysm apparently, when Addie was still only a baby. Bella, he doesn't talk about it. At all, and if he finds out that you know, he'll know where you heard it from and beat the shit out of Jay."
"Al, come on, I won't say a word," I swear to her, and it goes without saying that she doesn't even need to ask. "I'm assuming whatever happened turned him completely off hospitals."
"Possibly," she considers, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "So does Addie know?"
"About?—me and her father?"
"What else?" she deadpans.
"Of course she doesn't. Look what she gave me..." I add in sudden recollection, and rummaging through my purse, I pull out the inch-sized pink plastic horse she gifted me this morning. "She so adorable I could eat her for lunch."
"She's definitely a sweetie," she agrees. "Jay said Edward's very careful about who he has around her, so the fact he allows you to get close to Addie is a very good sign."
"You forgetting he didn't know about me? He thought I was imaginary," I refresh her memory.
"Still," she shrugs a dismissive shoulder, "he hasn't put a stop to it."
"God, Al, I'm mortified that he knows about Renee," I bemoan, wanting the ground to open up and swallow me at just the thought of it.
"Bella, you're not responsible for your mother," she reassures me delicately.
Alice knows more than anyone how sensitive I am about it.
"I haven't worked out whether Mrs. Cullen is an elitist yet, though," I state my case because it's another thing that's really bothering me.
Only a few months ago I was comfortable with our polite correspondence, but now...
"If she wants you to call her Esme, she obviously likes you," she replies, her tone taking on a dry-laced edge again. "You were wrong about her son..." she leaves it open-ended in deliberate emphasis.
"I know," I'm forced to agree, bringing my coffee back to my lips and inhaling the steaming aroma deeply into my lungs. "I get everyone wrong."
"That's because you let that funky brain of yours over-analyze literally everything," she teases me, leaning closer and placing her index finger to my temple. "Send him a text now."
"No."
"Then I will," she announces snatching up my phone in lightning speed.
"I will kill you!" I threaten her, not even remotely joking as I attempt, and fail, to retrieve it.
She rolls her eyes, completely calling my bluff, and turning her back on me she hastily types god only knows what.
"Alice—you wouldn't!" I burst horrified.
"Oh, calm down. Here," she says, satisfied with herself as she hands my phone back.
Hey, she'd texted him simply.
I huff, but I know with Alice it could have been a lot worse. "Can you butt out? You are such a child."
"I'm the child?" she states incredulously.
Hey, Alice, he immediately replies, making me nearly spill my coffee over myself.
"Huh...?" I utter in confusion, almost instinctively casting my eyes to the entrance of the café.
There he stands, dressed in a grey three-piece suit with the same long black wool coat, and a very familiar smirk lit up across his handsome features.
Removing his hand from his pocket, he holds it up, then makes his way toward us while my heart stalls behind my ribcage. I turn slowly back to Alice, my expression threatening not-so-subtle vengeance, while she only grins, quite pleased with herself.
"Bella," he greets me, his intense gaze trained on mine with as much scrutiny as the day before. As if he's trying to read the contents of my soul.
"Edward," I respond in kind, but my voice sounds stiff and unnatural. I sounded standoffish, if truth be told, and as I silently berate myself, he frowns to himself and turns his attention to Alice.
"Take a seat," she immediately offers, elbowing me discreetly in the ribs because it didn't escape her attention, either.
He obliges her and sits beside me so close his thigh brushes with mine. I'm immediately engulfed by the scent of his aftershave, and for a moment I'm practically swaying. My father was a very simple Gillette man, which he bought almost exclusively from Safeway. It's safe to say whatever Edward's wearing is beyond the range of local supermarkets.
He places his phone to the table, screen up, and rests both forearms on his knees. His screensaver is a smiling Addie with butterfly wings painted on her face.
"I'm not intruding, am I?" he asks, pulling back his sleeve to check his watch before glancing over at me with an eyebrow slightly arched.
"Not at all," I assure him with a smile, but I can't help but recall his words yesterday. He doesn't often come to this café, and yet he's happened upon me and Alice twice now.
It can't be a coincidence.
"It's our weekly ritual to catch up and gossip," Alice fills him in.
"And obsess about Alice's wedding..." I add wryly.
"I don't obsess," she immediately retorts. "Shall we order you a coffee, Edward?"
"I really can't stay long," he replies, his lips twitching with the barest hint of a smile.
"Five minutes," she appeals to him, and before Edward can open his mouth to politely decline—judging from his expression—she's up out of her seat and heading toward the service desk.
"She's... persuasive," he leans slightly closer to me and says.
"To say the least," I say with a sigh.
"Bella?"
"Hmm?" I turn to meet his gaze.
His brow heavily furrows, his eyes openly distracted. "Never mind."
I observe him for a moment, frowning to himself like he so often does. His hands are clasped together between his legs, and his over-all demeanor is one of discomfort.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Just busy," he answers, keeping his eyes steeled ahead of him on seemingly nothing.
"If you leave now, she probably won't notice," I say lightly, glancing over my shoulder to Alice three people back in the queue.
He smirks to himself and bows his head. "I have a few minutes."
I bring my coffee to my lips and take a sip, continuing to watch him peripherally.
"Did you see, Addie this morning?" he asks, breaking the silence he fell into.
"I did. She has my schedule down pat," I say, and it's enough to immediately chase his frown away. "She sounded all snuffly."
"Hmm. She's getting a cold. I told my mother to keep her inside," he says lowly, more or less to himself.
"Oh... She waits for me..." I lament, once again feeling like a humongous monster over a child who doesn't belong to me.
"She can't take medication," he discloses, his brows heavily knotting again.
"...Why?"
"It makes her throw up," he replies, turning his gaze squarely to me.
"Do you mean she can't tolerate the taste, or is she allergic?" I ask.
"She can't tolerate it."
"Have you tried the bubblegum flavored Benadryl?"
"Bubblegum?" he repeats, raising a brow.
"When I was still at nursing school I did a few pracs in the ER. We used to give it to the kids. They loved it," I explain. "Ask Alice."
"People bring their kids to the ER for colds?" he puts to me dubiously.
"They do," Alice rejoins the conversation, sitting back beside me. "Hysterical parents are the worst. They think if their kid has a fever they have meningitis. Apparently they've never heard of a thing called urgent care." She rolls her eyes. "Your coffee will be ready in a moment, doll."
Now that Alice is engaged, she refers to every other man on the planet as if they're her younger brother. Edward appears to find this humorous though, and his secret amusement in her is practically porn.
"Thank you," he says as his expression further echoes it.
"So, are you the guy you see if you slip on spilled soda at McDonald's?" she asks brazenly picking up her mug, but then, Alice can make any question seem casual.
"Something like that," he answers, fighting to hold off his smile. "Has that ever happened?"
"No, but it'll be good to have one of you in the family." She winks while I can only shake my head in wonder.
Edward, on the other hand, doesn't seem the least bit offended, and he appears a hell of a lot more relaxed in Alice's company than he did in mine.
His coffee arrives by the same barista who served him yesterday. "Hello again," she says, a tad too seductively for a man in the company of two women.
He clears his throat and offers her a quick, indifferent smile.
"Does that happen a lot?" Alice asks shamelessly once she leaves.
"I'm sorry?" he asks, understandably confused.
"Random women trying to come onto you," she simplifies, taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes not deviating from him.
"Not a lot, no," he answers, and either he's completely clueless or he's outright lying.
Alice..." I sigh, turning to him and offering him an apologetic smile. "She has... no filter." For want of a more accurate response, anyhow.
He smirks. "Is that so? The two of you are nothing alike," he notes.
"If I want to know something about someone, I ask. Life's too short to keep guessing," Alice declares with an offhanded shrug of her shoulder.
"Well, that is true," he acknowledges, and I can't help but think there's something behind his tone that suggests he's referring to me.
Or maybe I'm just being paranoid, because the man asked me a thousand questions and I answered every one.
"So your daughter..." Alice begins on a new tangent as I contemplate elbowing her, "she is downright adorable. If you ever need a baby-sitter..."
Edward's in the process of drinking his coffee in a single gulp when he almost chokes. "I'll keep that in mind," he says, clearly humoring her.
"I wish Jay had been more open about his family earlier," Alice continues on undeterred. "She would have made one seriously cute flower girl."
He scoffs out of some kind of irony. "Believe me, you don't want that. She's a handful."
"Bella says she's sweeter than honey," she counters as if I know Addie more than her own father.
"She is. She's also a handful," he reiterates, but the same warmth he always has when discussing his daughter is reflecting behind his eyes, erasing any concerns that Alice is annoying him.
Jesus, I really am catastrophically good at reading people wrong.
"So, if I put it to you, you'd be against it?" Alice deliberately tests the waters.
"Are you serious?" he asks skeptically.
"Of course I am," she insists. "I only have page boys. The sons of mine and Bella's good friend from back home."
"Hmm..." He's definitely humoring her this time. "I mean—"
"Seriously—will you consider it?" she interjects, practically begging him.
"I will," he relents, placing his near empty mug to the coffee table in front of him. "I really need to get back." He turns to me, his expression... odd. "Bella."
"See you," I reply, flashing him a small smile while struggling to maintain eye contact. His gaze is so intense I'm positive he could stare me into oblivion.
He places his palm momentarily to my knee, before pulling himself to his feet. "Alice, thanks for the coffee."
"Pleasure," she says cheerfully.
He turns to leave then, but not before his expression becomes as confused at is troubled.
"He definitely has a presence about him. Damn..." Alice murmurs in wonder after he leaves the café and disappears down the south end of the street.
"Do you understand what I mean now? He's so intimidating," I say releasing the air from my lungs, when Alice turns to face me and all but scowls.
"You!" she accuses me, slapping my shoulder with the back of her hand.
"Ow—what?"
"'Edward'." She completely over dramatizes the way I spoke his name to evidently stress her point. "It was so rude."
"I didn't say it like that!" I declare immediately affronted.
"Are you trying to self-sabotage?" she demands, eyeing me with open distrust.
"Of course I'm not," I snap, rubbing my shoulder with growing impatience.
"That man doesn't know whether he's up or down with you," she continues on with her open condemnation of me.
"He knows more about me than I know about him!" I remind her.
"You never asked him anything!" Her voice is rising and taking on its familiar exasperated edge. "He probably thinks you have such little interest in him to want to know anything."
"Don't be silly," I disregard her, but my voice falls in open contradiction and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned about it.
Alice will ask questions, bold questions, but I've always been the kind of person who waits until someone's comfortable enough to volunteer information about themselves. I never considered it a negative thing.
Until now.
"Plus, you barely said a word just now. You've never been shy—what the hell is going on?" Her voice fills with concern for the first time, though frustration is still at the forefront of her emotions.
"Maybe because I couldn't get a word in edgewise," I say dryly.
She snorts and blatantly rolls her eyes. "Well someone had to keep the conversation going."
"Alice..."
"I cannot believe you are giving a man that gorgeous the cold shoulder." Tsking to herself, she takes a sip of her coffee while continuing to eye me derisively.
"I did not—look, I'm..." I huff but let it go. The truth is, I have no idea what I am, or whether Alice is right about any of this.
"It's pretty simple really. You only need to do one thing."
"What's that?" I mutter, my eyes locked to the floor.
"Relax!" She completely over exaggerates it before abruptly pulling herself to her feet. "You are frustrating the hell out of me today."
"Are you leaving?" I say, immediately hurt.
"I have to before I end up killing you. Give me a hug," she says, her voice softening despite her current agitation.
Expelling my breath just as equally frustrated at myself, I get to my feet and allow her to pull me into her arms. "I'm sorry," I mumble.
"Maybe you should explain what happened with Tyler," she suggest, squeezing me to her further.
"Hmm maybe," I concede.
"Okay, I'm going to head out. Text him when you get home okay?"
I nod. "I will."
. . .
An hour later and I'm still not convinced Alice wasn't just exaggerating everything like she so often does. Edward was right in the sense that we're nothing alike. We aren't. Alice is brash and outgoing while I'm friendly but more reserved. The difference between us is often stark; like it was today.
Still, aside from the tense greeting we shared, I wasn't exactly rude. I spoke to him about Addie...
That's when it hits me. It's easy to talk about Addie, so easy conversation about her is natural, but when it's about him or me it's...
"Oh shit!" I utter out loud into my empty apartment in sudden comprehension, smacking myself in the forehead. "Shit, shit, shit!" I immediately grab my purse and pull out my phone, and that's when I realize Edward has already messaged me.
Look, Bella, I understand that you like my daughter, but there's nothing in the rule book that says you have to like me as well.
I can only stare down at it, my mouth agape and my heart beginning to accelerate. Alice was right. No matter how unintentional on my part, I was putting across a very indifferent energy toward him.
I like you as well, I reply, biting down my lower lip and holding my breath for his reply.
It comes not a minute later.
You're sending me very mixed messages and I don't like to go into anything half blind.
I didn't realize I was, I hastily text back.
Do I make you uncomfortable? Be honest.
No.
That's not the impression you give me.
I'm not sure what to say to that.
You're hot and cold, he replies, and that appears to be the end of it. Until it isn't. I don't think this is going to work. You and I are just too different.
My breath draws, and on impulse I shake my head, but I have absolutely no idea how to reply.
Do I beg him for a second chance?
Memories of my father's strict advice on the topic instantly dispels that idea, but I'm suddenly restless. I have to fix this, whatever it is we may or might not have because I do want to see him again.
If that's how you feel, I won't argue, I eventually reply after deleting all other responses I started.
I can't be Alice, or anyone else. This is who I am. I honestly thought we did some have sort of connection, but if he believes we're too different, what can I possibly say to that?
Releasing every molecule of air in my lungs in complete and utter defeat, I drop to my sofa, and let my head hang back until I'm staring at the ceiling.
"I am such a flake," I moan to myself, raising my phone eye level so I can see it.
The three dots flash across the bottom of the screen for at least a couple of minutes indicating he's typing back, but his message never comes.
I have just been blown off via text.
I laugh to myself flatly, and pulling myself to my feet I toss my phone to the sofa.
I need to run. I went too easy this morning, and I wonder whether that's why I was more uncertain with myself than usual.
Once I hit the streets, I push myself to my limits; something I haven't done in years. Definitely since I broke up with Tyler, but it lights a fire in my belly. As I stagger back through my apartment door almost two hours later, gasping for breath and with my heart hammering so rapidly it feels as if it's about to leap from my chest, I'm more determined than ever.
I fish my phone out from where it fell between the cushions of my sofa. Edward still hasn't texted back, but undeterred, I send him one final message.
I just got out of a very toxic relationship, so I guess it's still affecting me. I apologize.
He doesn't reply.
A/N: Thanks for reading.
If this chapter left you scratching your head wondering wtf just happened, I have succeeded. If not, I suck.
Don't be fooled into thinking this is all Bella, either. This Edward is a very complex character, and there's a lot going on beneath the surface.