A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!
Almost done!
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 19 – A Thousand and One Times
September 14, 2024 - NYC, NY: 2:28 a.m.
BELLA
With two minutes to spare, I raced down the narrow, dimly-lit staircase leading into The Last Call's underground locale. The wooden steps, creaking and uneven, felt wistfully familiar, ridiculously so as if I'd known them, as if I'd tread and sprinted up and down every single old, irregular step and concurrently gripped the roughhewn handrail a thousand and one times. Perhaps those would be facts in an alternate universe, and I'd be intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of The Last Call. In this universe, it was a wishful thought of what might've been had decisions, as numerous and unevenly scaled as each of these staircase steps, taken different turns.
Despite irregular steps, unlike my slow, hesitant descent hours earlier, each sneakered foot now hit every step with loud, pounding thumps of certainty, if not of outright confidence. The brisk pace was due to more than faith in my footwear's grip. Secure rubber soles or slippery red bottoms notwithstanding, the probability was significant that I'd end the night in shambles, that this risky flight downstairs might lead to a staggering fall, leaving me more distressed than had I tumbled and broken a leg my first time meeting this stairwell.
Nevertheless, Edward had every right to know precisely what he'd meant to me, even if my confession was two decades overdue…even if it was too late to change things in this version of our universe. Either way, I was willing to risk an epic plummet for a second chance to at least say what should've been said.
I sprinted off the last step like an Olympic gymnast, the eager momentum throwing my upper frame forward and spilling me into the venue with an awkward stumble that wouldn't earn me a place on any podium. I righted myself just as a loud announcement rang out in a voice also inexplicably and nostalgically familiar to me.
"All right, everyone! It's last call! Speak now or forever hold your peace!" Ty shouted from his place behind the bar.
The smokey scene was so reminiscent of the one I left behind a few hours earlier that my heart clenched. Despite my undeniable anxiety, a small smile spread across my face. On legs that abruptly felt shakier than they had when I'd scaled down the stairs, I ambled to the bustling bar, winding, excusing, and elbowing my way to the front.
Tyler was busy, as usual. The early morning hour did little to thin the bar's crowd. Still, he grinned as he handed out last-minute drinks to the boisterous clientele. I called his name a handful of times before his head snapped up, his ebony gaze widening when he saw me. His eyes took me in from head to toe, noting my outfit change from party dress to sweats with a raised brow. What he thought of it remained unread in his expression. Instead, he poured out a row of shots.
"Well, well, if it isn't the enigmatic birthday girl. The woman of the hour – of the day!" he corrected himself, handing the shots out while still looking at me. He then set a pint under the tap and flicked up the spigot so that liquid gold sloshed into the pristine glass. "And by the way, thanks for the hundred-and-ninety dollar tip on a twenty-dollar tab."
I offered him a faint smile, waving away the unnecessary gratitude. No matter how the rest of the night went, Tyler had more than earned that tip.
"It's not my day anymore, and I'm no longer the woman of the hour. Ty, where's Edward?"
"No longer the woman of the hour, you say?" Flicking the spigot down, Ty slid the pint my way, setting the burbling brew before me as he jerked his jaw behind me. "Tell that to the boss."
It was a mouth-watering brew. For a split second, I tasted it in my memory, the rich, dark molasses accompanied by complex notes of smoky sweetness. At any other moment, under different circumstances, I would've reached for it in a heartbeat.
At that moment, it failed miserably at tempting me, not when I sensed an ever more complex, richer, and more profound presence behind me. Slowly, with my heart thundering in my ears, I turned around.
Edward stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the crowd, emerald eyes like beacons glowing amid the foggy haze. He watched me standing at his venue's bar in complete, stupefied bewilderment. When he spoke, it was in the raspy, whiskey voice of my dreams, and though I'd seen him just over an hour earlier in my hotel suite, the entire scene suddenly felt surreal.
"Izzy? What are you doing here?"
The question took me by surprise, although it shouldn't have. He'd left with a goodbye that, for all intents and purposes, could've ended every last one of our chapters. Moreover, the current laughter, murmurs, susurrations, jukebox, etc., around us camouflaged his tone. I heard his words but couldn't interpret his meaning, and it all momentarily threatened my fledgling courage. Was it a question of curiosity or one of indignation?
'What are you doing here?' versus 'What are you doing here?'
The surreal sensation added a fringe of glittering gauze to my peripheral vision, tunneling it so that all I saw were Edward's eyes like lighthouse markers calling me home. His voice, whether indignant or curious, was my foghorn, there to follow to safety or ruin.
Obviously, I was in a mental uproar, overwhelmed into a drunklike state by everything I felt, by all I wanted to say, to express.
"Edward…"
Expelling a frustrated breath, I shut my mouth, but I'd always had an inferior ability to Edward's in putting feelings into words. My songs took days, sometimes weeks, to compose. Edward's were instantaneous, infused with so much feeling they might as well have been love letters. And then, my tunneled vision fell on Edward's shoulder, where a familiar leather strap lay across his chest. I remembered how, back then, I'd sit across his lap, and that strap would fall over my shoulder while his guitar sat on my lap. We'd then strum together – our love letters to one another when I couldn't say the words.
"Izzy, I-"
"Can I borrow your guitar?" I asked breathlessly.
Edward reeled back, startled even more. His brow furrowed, incomprehension marring the lines creasing his forehead. Following a brisk silence, he offered me a languid nod.
"Of course."
Holding my gaze, Edward lifted the strap off his shoulder and head and handed me his guitar. I took it wordlessly, pressing it against my chest as I snaked through the bar crowd and made my way to the stage.
'…your bar's open 'til 2:30 in the morning…'
'Til three, actually. Last call is at 2:30.'
So, as busy as the bar was, the stage was now dark and barren, swept up and emptied of amps, speakers, and most of the usual stage equipment. Only the mic on its stand remained.
Based on the continued din of voices, laughter, and clinking barware behind me, my climb up the stage steps went primarily unnoticed. Standing before the microphone, I set the guitar strap over my shoulder and kept my gaze front and center. Then, clearing my throat and with my heart hammering against my ribcage, I tapped the mic.
"Excuse me." My voice erupted in an uneven, strangled manner that did nothing to affect the noise level.
But I was not a stranger to this, even if it had been years since I last performed on a stage. And though I may not have been one of the one-time-famous performers for who The Last Call was a second chance at a proper last call, my yearning, craving, and my need for one last chance to get it right was just as essential. And Edward deserved for me to get this right.
"EXCUSE ME!"
The decibel level dropped. Most of the laughter stopped. Conversation dwindled.
"Can I please have everyone's attention?"
Yet more conversation ceased. Someone turned off the jukebox and the flatscreens. The remaining background noise fell to quieted bar commotion and the hushed voices of curiosity:
"What's going on?"
"There's another performance tonight?"
"After the last call? That never happens."
"Who is she? Do you recognize her?"
"Nope. I have no clue who she is. This is strange."
Drawing in a deep breath, I offered up a quivering smile.
"I'm sorry to interrupt when I know you're all enjoying the night's last call. But you see, I've got…I've got a confession to make."
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced back the tears stinging my eyes. No matter what, this was a freeing confession. It was a soul-cleansing truth. I would not falter through it.
"I've got a confession to make," I repeated in a steadier voice, lifting my chin, "but the truth is I've never been as good with words, with expression, or with lyrics," I chuckled, "as the person I'm confessing to. So, please, bear with me because it's been a while since I last did this." Strumming softly, I looked out at the crowd, meeting several pairs of eyes as I did back in our Olympia days. "This is a cover of a song originally written and performed by…by one of the greats. You might be familiar with him," I breathed. Only then did I allow my gaze to wander and find him.
Edward stood surrounded by the crowd. He watched me through staggered eyes, gripping his copper-penny hair in a tight fist while his shoulders rose and fell heavily.
And I had no idea whether it was shock or horror. So I wouldn't embarrass him. I would only say what I came to say.
A series of uneven sighs escaped me as we locked one another in each other's gazes, and I played the haunting opening riff. The crowd fell silent. With one final breath, I began:
"The countdown begins, it's our last call
And I'm makin' my way back to you
With every step, with every breath,
I'm workin' my way to your arms…"
The stage's spotlight suddenly turned on, shining brightly overhead. Squinting against the momentary blindness, I kept going.
"So just say the word
Show me you've been waiting
Tell me you still want me, too
Say the words
I've always been waiting
It's never been no one but you…"
The crowd watched and listened in rapt fascination – because they instantly recognized the song. Like a rocket, he'd shot up quickly, perhaps powered by faulty wiring, but in essence…in essence, Edward was a star. And so when he'd cut off that faulty wiring, his star had remained up there with the rest of the constellations. Where he belonged.
And Edward…well, his eyes bored deeply into mine like two bright jewels amid smoky quartz. His astonishment was evident in the slightly parted lips and how his angular jaw fell agape. His agitation showed in his heavy breaths and how he continuously raked his hair, then linked his hands behind his nape.
Whether it was all due to approval or disapproval, whether he liked or despised what I was doing to his work of art, I couldn't tell. I was too nervous, too focused on keeping my out-of-practice voice loud, even, and as melodious as possible, in doing his music the justice it deserved. Which was probably why it took me a few seconds to realize Edward was no longer standing still. Instead, he slowly made his way forward.
I kept singing.
"Here we are, where we began
And I'm prayin' you hear what I say
With every step, with every breath
I'm vowing that this time, I'll stay…"
When he broke through the smoke, my voice shook around the stanza's last couple of words. And as he climbed the stage, my heart pounded in a furious beat that rang in my ears and drowned out my voice. Yet, I kept going. Even as Edward's searing gaze drew closer, then stopped right before me. Even when his rough yet faultless voice joined mine:
"So just say the word
Show me you're waiting
Tell me you still want me, too
Say the words
I've always been waiting
It's never been no one but…you."
Our voices waned almost simultaneously. My hands fell from the guitar, the beautiful chords coming to a sudden, discordant stop. In the ensuing silence, I drew a deep breath and angled my head.
"Is this okay?"
Edward nodded slowly, wordlessly lifting the guitar off me, his eyes locked on mine as he allowed it to slip from his hold with a thud. When he cradled my face in his warm hands, I wrapped my hands around his.
"Izzy…"
"I loved you, Edward. I loved you with all my heart and soul." My voice broke. "And I should've said it then. I should've said it a thousand and one times back then because it was a love so profound…so profound that it never really ended. It was my raw grain of truth in every scenario, decade, and alternate universe," I garbled through my tears. "I never stopped loving you, and that's why I ran out on my fortieth birthday party, because you were missing, and I'm so sorry-"
Crushing his mouth against mine, he cut me off.
One night long ago, pre-fame and twenty-one-year-old Edward Cullen kissed me on a ferry ride from mainland Seattle to Bainbridge Island. His lips were cushiony but cold from the misty night air. Possibly from nerves, too. It was a tenderly tentative kiss, still unsure of himself. Of us. It was a boy kissing a girl.
This kiss was not like that. There was nothing tentative, nothing unsure or uncertain about it. This was the kiss of a man demanding as much as he gave with unwavering faith that he finally could.
Edward drew me tightly into his embrace, sweeping me off the ground as I anchored my arms around his shoulders. Our mouths met with the desperation of long-lost familiarity and the hunger of a long-awaited novelty. When we came up for air, his mouth brushed my lips and skimmed my cheeks, nose, and forehead. I did the same while resuming my confessions.
"I was scared back then. Wary, and I didn't even realize it 'til years later. I was sure you'd stop loving me, so I broke our hearts and said things that kept us apart. And I'm so sor-"
"Shh," Edward smiled against my mouth. "Stop apologizing. Izzy, we were young, and I made many mistakes, too. I'm so sorry about everything I did and said then, as well as the things I did and said tonight. Lord knows I gave you plenty of reason to lose faith that spring and summer. I could've handled things so much better then and now. I'm the one who's so-"
"Shh," I murmured against his lips, smiling as he'd done. "I don't want any more apologies, either."
He pulled back barely enough to meet my gaze, our noses almost touching. "Izzy, all I know is that that's twice I've stalked out of a room, leaving you behind and with both our hearts broken." He shook his head. "It only took a few minutes after I left your hotel suite for me to come to my senses and realize my massive mistake, what I'd done again. When you arrived here, I was just picking up my guitar and then returning to the hotel, hoping you'd let me in so I could tell you that I remembered…" His eyes filled with remorse, and he took a deep breath.
"What did you remember?" I prompted, cradling his stubbly cheek when he trailed off.
"I remembered that I was supposed to fight the horde, the invaders, the Heidis in our universe until you were ready to fight them with me. I knew that was my job. But that spring and summer, I forgot. So, I had no one but myself to blame when they overran us. I should've-"
I pressed my palm against his mouth. "Could've and should've, let's leave them in the past."
His eyes searched mine, and he took my hand, kissing my palm, then turning it and weaving our fingers together.
"Iz, I didn't get it right the first time with you. I won't swear this time. I won't even promise. But if you grant me one more opportunity, I'll never give up the fight. Because the last thing I want in this world, Izzy…" he paused breathlessly, "the last thing I want here, or in any alternate universe, is to miss out on another two decades of you."
Cradling his angular jaw, I guided his mouth back to mine and whispered before kissing him, "You won't have to fight alone this time, Edward. I'll fight for us, too."
He wrapped me tightly in his arms and groaned. "You don't know what those words mean to me."
"I think I do. Because they mean just as much-"
The sudden cat calls and whistles startled us. We pulled apart only enough to look over our shoulders, abruptly recalling the crowd.
The audience.
"I think everyone heard our conversation," I murmured.
"We did!" Tyler confirmed, shouting from the bar and laughing heartily. "Hot mic, guys! I thought you were both pros at this?"
The crowd burst into laughter. After another tender kiss, so did Edward and I.
"Yeah, we heard it all, sweetie!"
"Looks like The Ex ain't The Ex no more!"
I squinted, peering into the smoky crowd. "Quil? Embry?"
"It's us, honey!"
"Yeah! We came to offer moral support!"
"Or a pair of shoulders to cry on had things gone awry!"
Again, the crowd laughed.
"Instead, you got your man, and if I'm lucky, I'll get that man's autograph before the night's through!"
"You and me both, Quil baby!"
Amid continued amusement and applause, Edward and I rested our foreheads together, chuckling, mouths softly nipping. The catcalls soon morphed into calls for "Encore! Encore!" A woman at the front of the crowd shouted,
"Of course, we all know who Edward is, but though you were good, I still don't recognize you!"
I grinned down at her. "I'm Bella. Or Izzy," I said, flashing my eyes toward Edward. "And I was once part of a kick-ass band called Olympia!"
Edward picked up his guitar, slinging the strap over his shoulder. "She was more than part of that kick-ass band; she was its frontwoman."
The woman's eyes popped open in awe but then quickly narrowed. "Olympia? I don't remember them."
I looked at Edward and found him gazing at me in open adoration, wearing a grin that lit up his ruggedly handsome face.
"I do. And their frontwoman inspired everything good that ever came from me. So, birthday girl," he said quickly, allowing me a second to recover from the bombardment of emotion choking me up on stage, "you want to sing the last song of the night with me?" He moved close and whispered in my ear, so only I heard the rest. "Afterward, if you're not too tired, you want to take a ferry ride?"
I pulled back and offered him a confused smile, mouthing back, "A ferry ride?"
He merely nodded, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I nodded, too, and swallowed back the sting in my throat. "I'd love all that almost as much as I've always loved you."
The crowd clapped uproariously. I laughed. With another broad grin, Edward pulled his gaze away and squinted in the bar's direction and against the haze before us.
"Ty, last call's on the house!"
The place erupted into a wild cacophony. The venue shook. Amid it all, Edward enfolded me in his incomparable embrace.
"Iz…" he whispered, and I saw the emotion shining in his emerald gaze right before he brushed his lips against mine, "my Izzy. I'll always love you, too."
A/N: Thoughts?
Almost done. :)
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