Chapter 3: Breakfast

Bella

Sprawled on my stomach, the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder, I found myself chatting with Edward, my feet idly kicking in the air. Each laugh, each shared joke, seemed to peel away the years, transforming me back into a teenager with a crush, rather than an Admiral with the weight of command on her shoulders.

The softness of my bedspread under my palms, the casual tangle of my legs—everything about this moment felt light, carefree. It was a stark contrast to the rigid discipline of my daily life. With Edward, I could just be Bella, not the Admiral, not the commander, just a girl enjoying the thrill of a budding connection.

As our conversation drifted from the mundane to the profound, I caught myself opening up in ways I hadn't in years. There was something about Edward's voice, the warmth and curiosity in his questions, that made me want to share more, to be more. Yet, I held back, a silent guardian of my past, wary of revealing the shadows that lingered there.

But for those few hours, as the night deepened and the stars blinked to life outside my window, I allowed myself to just enjoy the present. To laugh without reservation, to listen to the stories of someone who was quickly becoming more than just a voice on the other end of the line. And as we finally said goodnight, a part of me longed to stay in this simple, teenage moment a little while longer.

The early morning light streamed through the gossamer curtains I had hung just yesterday, casting a soft glow across the room. I stood in front of my closet, agonizing over what to wear. It made me smile, this sudden throwback to teenage angst over clothing choices. I was being pathetic, I chided myself, hands planted firmly on my hips as I glared at the silent garments. Nothing leapt out, nothing screamed 'Wear Me' for breakfast with Edward.

Why did I agree to meet up with him for breakfast?

With a groan, I settled on a pair of jeans and a soft, blue sweater, leaving my bedroom with a sense of resignation. I cared about my appearance—I always did, thanks to my military upbringing—but today, I wasn't going to primp and preen as if it were a real date. This was just two people sharing a meal, hopefully going Dutch. Separate checks. Nice and simple. No agenda. No date.

Stepping outside, I was greeted by a blustery wind that made me shiver, regretting that I had left my jacket in the car after returning from the base yesterday. Wrapping my arms around myself, I hurried to the car, my thoughts a whirlwind almost as turbulent as the weather. Despite my attempts at nonchalance, the flutter in my stomach betrayed my true feelings about this casual 'non-date' with Edward.

~ Black Cat ~

The diner stood out with its vibrant red facade, windows lining the wall near the parking lot, offering a glimpse into the cozy interior. The all-seasons dining room was encased in glass, inviting passersby to partake in its warmth. Above, the rustic slate-gray roof bore patches where metal shone through, hinting at its age and stories weathered.

As I approached, the porch welcomed me with its patriotic display—a bench adorned with carved eagle heads and painted with the American flag and a soaring eagle. It was a tribute to the spirit of the community.

The tinkle of a bell announced my entrance, drawing the attention of the patrons. Some eyes narrowed, sizing up the newcomer, while others simply returned to their meals and conversations. Their indifference was a comfort; anonymity was a rare luxury.

Inside, the diner paid homage to the community's heritage—the fishing, the lumber trades, and the Native American tribe that enriched the area's history. Murals celebrating nature adorned the walls, and saw blades repurposed as canvases for local scenes added to the charm. One even boasted the day's specials. The ambiance was down-to-earth, a reflection of the town's soul.

Edward was there, seated along the wall at a table for two, his attention on his phone. Menus stood at the ready on either side. My smile was instinctive, a reaction to his presence, and I moved toward him, only to be halted by a voice from the past.

"Bella?" the woman inquired, her tone laced with uncertainty.

"Yes, and you are?" I responded, my mind scrambling to place her.

"Angela," she said, a smile breaking through. "Angela Webber, well, Chaney now."

Recognition dawned, and I felt a rush of warmth. Angela—my best friend from a life that seemed a world away. We had kept in touch sporadically, but time and distance had done their work. I embraced her, noting the changes time had etched upon her. The geeky glasses were gone, her hair now a chic length that framed her face. Her style had evolved, but the essence of the Angela I knew remained.

Edward's gaze eventually found us amidst the diner's lively chatter. His face broke into a wide grin, the kind that seemed to cast a warm glow over the entire room. He gestured for me to join him, and despite the flutter of excitement at the invitation, I reminded myself that this was precisely why I was here.

"I'll catch up with you later," I said to Angela, handing her a card from my purse. "Call me, okay? I'm late for a breakfast… date." I let the word 'date' trail off softly, still uncertain about the nature of this encounter, especially since Edward hadn't picked me up.

Angela's gaze flitted between me and Edward, her expression laden with a knowing concern. "Edward wouldn't hurt you," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of shared secrets and the memory of what I had endured at Jacob's hands. "He's one of the good ones." Then, louder for Edward to hear, she added, "Edward, if you hurt Bella, you'll have me to deal with."

Edward's reply came swiftly, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "Like I could ever hurt someone, Ang. It's always been the opposite."

His words hinted at a deeper story, one that had left its mark on him. Maybe, in time, he would share it with me, and perhaps then, I'd find the strength to share my own. But for now, the prospect of new stories to be written together, of moments yet to be shared, was enough to propel me forward.

Edward

As Bella approached the table, I stood up, rounded the table, and pulled out a chair for her. She leaned in close, her lips brushing my cheek in a friendly peck that sent a jolt of warmth through me. I hoped my surprise didn't show.

"Thank you," she whispered, her breath a soft caress.

"You're welcome," I replied, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. I returned to my seat across from her. "Breakfast is on me. Order whatever you like," I said, gesturing to the menu.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a simple gesture that caught my attention, before picking up the menu. You're beautiful, I thought. In the past, I would have voiced the compliment without hesitation, but now, I held back. I had made a promise to myself to take things slow. Bella fascinated me in a way no one else had, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

From behind her menu, Bella shot me a curious glance, her eyes sparkling. She didn't speak, but the faint blush that colored her cheeks spoke volumes. It was a subtle, endearing reaction that only added to her allure.

Once the waitress had taken our orders, I found myself at a loss for words. Our previous conversations—light-hearted banter at Thriftway and easy chats over the phone—had flowed effortlessly. But now, sitting face-to-face, I felt a nervous tension I hadn't anticipated. We had shared details of our days, and I had even mentioned my upcoming business trip to Italy. Bella's knowledge of two hidden gem restaurants in Italy had taken me by surprise, and I made a mental note to visit at least one, intrigued by her unexpected insight.

The silence between us was a canvas waiting to be filled, and I found myself eager to paint it with more shared moments and discoveries. Reminiscing about my teenage years, I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia mixed with the excitement of new beginnings. It was like being back at the high school dance, unsure but hopeful, the future unwritten and full of possibilities.

"What was Angela implying with her comment about you hurting me?" Bella's question cut through the hum of the diner.

I paused, taking a deep breath. "How do you know her?" I asked, seeking context before delving into a past I rarely shared.

As the waitress returned with our drinks, Bella took a sip of her juice and answered, "Angela and I have been best friends since kindergarten. We stayed in touch even after me and my dad moved away. And you?"

"She was my peer buddy when I moved here at sixteen," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. I deflected, curious about her path. "What led you to join Star Command?"

"My father, mostly," she said, her eyebrow arching playfully. "Though he didn't see me as a security officer at first."

"And where did he envision you?" I probed, intrigued.

"In communications or engineering," she answered, then fixed me with a pointed look. "Are you avoiding my question?"

I admired her perceptiveness. "Not exactly," I admitted, nodding subtly towards the other patrons.

Leaning in, I whispered, "Not everyone in town is interested in hearing my side of the story."

Bella's hand reached across the table, resting gently on mine, her touch a comforting presence. "Then they're fools," she declared, her voice firm.

"Does Angela know the whole story?" she asked, her hand still atop mine, grounding me.

I turned my hand over, intertwining our fingers. "She's the only one, besides my family, who does. I'll share it with you, but not here."

Her smile was full of understanding, and I sensed she might have her own tales of hardship.

We released hands as our food arrived, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. I recounted a childhood escapade that had Bella laughing until tears streamed down her face.

"Why were you trying to hide the pony?" she gasped between fits of laughter.

"Dad said no to a pony, so I thought hiding one in the attic was the solution," I chuckled. "If not for the manure smell, he might never have found out."

"How old were you?" she managed to ask, still chuckling.

"Five," I confessed. "I hadn't quite grasped the concept of consequences back then."

She shook her head, still smiling. "Your parents would have figured it out eventually."

"That's a lesson I learned the hard way," I said, placing enough cash on the table to cover the bill.

Bella glanced at the check as we stood, a silent protest in her eyes. I liked that she wanted to be independent, and I couldn't help but think my mother would adore her if they ever met.