Back with Bella this week! Thanks for being patient. RL is demanding, but I'm trying! My heart is with everyone affected by the current fires in Cali. Hope everyone is safe. :3

(p.s. the chapter title is not about Edward! lol)

p.s. #2 sorry for a boring chapter, hope the next ones are more interesting

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thirty-two
the smallest man who ever lived
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"Bella, there's a handsome man here to see you," Heidi says, standing in the doorway of our staff lounge as I pour myself a mug of coffee.

Heart in my throat, I freeze.

It's been a week since I've seen Edward at Cafe Allegro. Of course, he's been on my mind daily, and everything makes me think of him.

I didn't want to risk more run-ins with him because that last one hurt enough. That's why I gifted the office a fancy coffee maker, so I don't have to venture out anymore for caffeine.

It's not the same, though—the coffee and my heart.

"I'll be out in a minute," I tell Heidi, trying to play it cool.

She smiles. "I'll let him know."

After Heidi leaves, I rush into the staff bathroom and check my reflection. I fluff my hair, check my teeth, and tell myself to breathe.

After his simple reply of thanks, I can't say I hadn't hoped for this. I can't say I didn't stay up most nights this past week, hoping Edward would show up to my work and ask to talk. That he'd say he forgives me. That even though I hurt him, he misses me and wants to make it work.

Excitement and remorse bubble in my chest as I exit the lounge and enter the main office area.

But that feeling deflates when I see who's waiting for me by the front door.

It's not Edward.

It's that fucker, Jackson.

He looks hopeful and waves. With narrowed eyes, I stalk over to him.

"Outside," I tell him. "Now." We exit through the front doors and stand on the sidewalk. "What the hell are you doing here?" I snap.

"You weren't returning my calls," he explains, giving me a once over. "Wait, do you always look this hot at work?"

Irritated, I pull my oversized blazer closed to hide the mini dress beneath. I have a big meeting later, so I dressed to impress them, not Jackson.

"Can you not take a hint?" I balk. "I have nothing to say to you. That's why I haven't reached out."

"Bullshit. We've talked a lot over the last year. Yeah, it mostly had to do with the case, but I'd even say we were friends on the verge of being more. So what changed?"

"Everything," I stress. "I need some space from all of this. The podcast. You. I need to focus on things other than Rosalie's disappearance. It's not good for me."

"What the fuck, Isa? You're doing this now? After I get a huge piece of information that could help the case? I understand you're freaked out, and shit got more real by hearing Rosalie was potentially pregnant. But now's not the time to panic. If anything, we need to keep digging."

"I don't know what you want me to do. You're the professional, right? You get paid for this. You should be able to handle this independently," I point out.

"Jane blocked me. Social media, email, my cell. Everywhere."

It takes a lot not to laugh. "Sounds like you were harassing her."

"I'm doing my fucking job," he says, slightly hostile. "Trying to, anyway."

"Great, so am I. I'm at work, so I can't do this now."

"Then meet me tonight. Please," he begs. "We have a lot more to talk about. I stumbled upon an interesting development which you should know about. And after tonight, if you want me to leave you alone, I will."

It's so damn tempting, but only if he means it.

"Seriously?" I ask, eyeing him.

"Yes. I don't want that, but I get it. Just meet me tonight. Kate's Tavern at eight."

"Oh, fuck off," I snap, and he laughs. "I'm not going there with you. Stay far, far away from my dad and Jasper."

"I'm kidding! Lighten up. We'll go to Poquitos."

That's where we went to dinner the first time we met in person to talk about the podcast. Dad and James, Jackson's co-host, were there, too, so it wasn't romantic. But after that dinner, Jackson and I got drinks alone elsewhere and shared a stupid kiss. I worry he's trying to recreate something. I worry he's the kind of man who doesn't know when to give up.

"I'm not getting dinner with you," I insist, clarifying our boundaries. "Or drinks."

"Then come back to my hotel," he suggests, and I shake my head. "Fine. Poquitos at nine."

"Seven."

He looks at me as if this is foreplay. "I thought you didn't want to get dinner," he says.

"I don't. But I'm also not trying to meet up that late."

"Okay." He shrugs. I turn to go back inside, but he grabs my arm. "Isa."

"What?" I shift away from his touch, ignoring the spark of worry that shoots through me.

"I refuse to look like an idiot with this case," he says, something darker and desperate in his eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Whatever," I mutter. "Don't come here again."

He holds up his hands like he's harmless, but I'm not sure he is. I wait until he's walking down the sidewalk to go back inside. When I return and sit at my desk, Chelsea and Heidi pounce.

"Who was that?" Chelsea asks.

Heidi frowns. "Wait, I thought that was Edward?"

Chelsea laughs. "Edward puts that man to shame."

He does in all aspects—looks, personality, charm.

The effect on my heart.

"That's Jackson," I tell them. "He's the one doing the podcast about Rosalie."

Heidi and Chelsea remain quiet because the topic is so tricky. I don't blame them for not knowing what to say.

"Are you okay?" Heidi asks, treading carefully. "If you need to skip out on the meeting today—"

"No. No, I'm fine," I say, offering my best fake smile.

I know they can see through it but don't push, which I'm grateful for.

After Heidi disappears and Chelsea turns her focus to her laptop, I pull out my phone and open Facebook Messenger.

Jane never replied to my first message, but I want to reach out again and clear the air because, now that I know she blocked Jackson, there's no telling what he said about me.

Bella: Hi, Jane. I'm not trying to hound you, but I want you to know I'm not working with Jackson. I don't know if he said anything to you about me, but if he did, he's probably lying. I wanted to talk to you about Rosalie—on my own—but I understand if you want to forget everything and move on. I hope you're doing well, and I'm so sorry for bothering you.

I send it before I can second-guess, but my overthinking doesn't end there. I constantly check my phone throughout the day for a reply from her. It isn't until I'm sitting in my car outside the restaurant to meet Jackson that she sends one.

Jane: Hi, Bella. Sorry, not trying to ignore you just been overwhelmed. I'd be happy to talk to you. When is a good time to call? Evenings are best for me after 8pm.

Bella: Could we talk in person?

I hadn't considered it before, but this matters to me. Maybe it's because I feel she'll open up more if we're in person. I don't want this sensitive, long-overdue conversation to be had over the phone and to be able to end with one click of a button. She was Rosalie's best friend for years for a reason, so I want to sit with her. I want to feel her vibe and see if she's genuine. And in turn, I want her to feel my sincerity in needing information if she has any.

Jane: That works, too. I can come to Seattle, but it won't be for a while.

Bella: I can come to you if that's easier. Next weekend works for me if you're free.

Jane: Sounds good. I'm about to start the bedtime routine with kiddos, so I'll message you again tomorrow, and we can figure out the details.

Bella: Thank you! I really appreciate this.

With a new plan in my back pocket, I feel more confident and smug on my way inside to meet Jackson.

That feeling lasts until I enter the restaurant and find him sitting at a booth with Edward.

They haven't spotted me yet. I could turn around and leave. But there's no use. Edward already knows who I am, and I want to know why they're together and what Jackson is up to.

Hesitantly, I approach the table, my stomach in knots. The moment Edward meets my gaze, though, my anxiety unravels.

"Have a seat, Isa," Jackson says breezily, scooting over to make room for me.

I glance between them, then slide onto the bench Edward's sitting on, choosing to sit with him. Being beside him further relaxes me despite the uncertainty of why we're both here.

"What are you doing here?" I ask Edward, my voice too soft. I can feel Jackson watching us.

"This douche said he had some information about Isa Hale, and I bit," Edward says, jaw tightening.

"Well?" Jackson prompts, looking between the two of us before focusing on Edward. "It must be clear now that the information I had about Isa Hale is that she's Bella Swan. She's been lying to you."

I frown in confusion. When I glance over at Edward, he looks at Jackson like he's a dumbass.

"I already know," Edward says blandly.

Jackson frowns. "Wait, what?"

I laugh and give in to my urge to be cruel. "Aw. Did you think you were doing your big one by breaking the news to Edward? Because, spoiler alert, he already knows the truth. I told him myself," I admit, and I'm so damn glad I did because knowing Jackson was going to try to blindside Edward this way makes me feel sick. "Sorry if you wanted some big reveal, but I beat you to it."

Jackson still looks confused, and it's so damn satisfying.

"For a so-called professional armchair sleuth, I would've thought you'd be better at this," Edward adds, getting in a jab himself.

My eyes briefly meet Edward's, and even if neither of us is smiling, it seems like we're on the same team right now. And that feels good.

The waitress comes over, and I order a margarita. I might be faking bravado right now, but I'm still unsure and shaken, and I know tequila will calm my nerves.

"Yeah, on second thought, I think I'll take a beer," Edward adds before the waitress walks away. His leg brushes mine, probably accidentally, but I soak up the comfort in that small point of contact. His slight touch might be more effective than tequila.

Jackson is quiet, stuck in his head, likely trying to find other information to throw at us to make this failed reveal worthwhile.

"So, when you showed up at my work today, this is the interesting development you dangled in my face to lure me here?" I ask rhetorically. "Because it's not interesting, nor is it new. But I am curious how you figured it out."

"I have my ways," he says vaguely.

I scoff. "That's creepy."

Jackson shrugs. "That day after we talked on the phone and you were defending this fucker, I knew something was up with you," he says, and for as stupid as he is, I'm grateful he just said that so Edward knows I stuck up for him.

"So, you stalked me," I accuse.

"No. I hired someone else to do that for me," Jackson clarifies, and I roll my eyes at his semantics. "I got pictures of Edward showing up at your place and the two of you hugging on your doorstep. Got some adorable photos of y'all at the gala—you looked hot in your dress, by the way," he tosses out, and I can feel the tension radiating from Edward and his leg bouncing under the table. I press my knee harder against his, hoping it wordlessly reassures him the way he did with me. "I wasn't entirely sure that Edward didn't know who you were. That was a guess on my part, but I figured he wouldn't want to associate with you, given everything with Rosalie."

"What's the point of all of this?" Edward demands.

"I'll admit I did this for selfish reasons," Jackson replies. "I don't like being toyed with or lied to."

"Yet you toy with and lie to everyone around you," I say hotly. "How did you even know I was going by the name Bella Swan?"

"Easy. I got a copy of the gala guest list. I was a little confused when I didn't see Isa Hale on there, but then Bella Swan was listed, and it all clicked for me."

"And you consider all of this overstepping to be easy?" I echo, disturbed by his evident gloating. "You're a psycho."

"Hey. I'm dedicated," he counters. "And you're just bitchy because you had something to hide."

"Don't fucking talk to her like that," Edward snaps, and I'm touched he's sticking up for me.

"You're really going to defend her after she used you to get closer to the case?" Jackson asks in surprise. "You're more pussy-whipped than I thought."

"Oh, shut up," I chime in, the same moment Edward tells him to fuck off.

Jackson sneers. "Or wait—was I the only one she slept with? Lucky me."

My face burns, and my anger rises further.

"He's lying," I stress to Edward, who looks like he's about to murder the guy right here.

With his eyes locked on Jackson, Edward stays calm and swigs his beer, but his leg bounces again. "You expect me to believe that shit? I'm sure you wanted more, but zero part of me believes she would do that."

"Because you know her so well," Jackson quips.

Edward sits forward, his voice deadly low. "My relationship with Bella has nothing to do with you. I know you try to make people's personal lives your business, but if you fucking show up to her work again or keep harassing her, I'll—"

"What?" Jackson taunts.

I press a hand to Edward's chest. "Don't give him the satisfaction. He wants a reaction right now."

"Figures. Only way he gets content is by provoking people," Edward mutters, sitting back in his seat before looking at me. "I think I've heard enough from this asshole. You ready to go?"

I down half my margarita, and Edward tosses cash on the table.

"I'd let you pick up the tab," Edward says to Jackson, "but I don't want you to feel like Bella owes you anything. Leave her the fuck alone."

Jackson doesn't get another word in before we slide out of the booth and leave the restaurant.

Once outside, I immediately wish we could've said and done so much more, but it's best we left before things got uglier.

"I'm so sorry about all of that," I mumble, staring at Edward.

"Don't be. That wasn't your fault."

"Where's Pete?" I ask, glancing at the cars parked along the curb.

"He has the night off."

"I can drive you home," I offer, desperate for more time with him.

He shakes his head. "I think I want to walk. Clear my head. Where'd you park?"

"Around the corner."

"I'll walk you."

We silently fall into step together.

I want to say so many things. I want to know how he's doing. I want to tell him I miss him. I want to mention my conversation with Jane earlier and how I'll visit her next weekend. I want to ask him to go to Forks with me but I'm not sure this is the right time.

"Why'd you come tonight?" I ask instead, keeping it simple. "I thought you hated that guy."

"I fucking do. But he said he had some information about Isa Hale, and since I already knew who you were, I wanted to make sure he wasn't trying to be sketchy with you," he admits, and it softens my heart because maybe he still feels protective of me despite every awful thing I did.

"Oh," I say quietly.

"Why'd you come?"

"He said he'd finally leave me alone after tonight."

"Fucking asshole," Edward mutters under his breath.

We pause on the sidewalk beside my car, and I stare at him. "I hope you know what he said about me isn't true."

"It's fine."

"No, seriously. Nothing like that happened between us. I did use him, though. I thought if I kept him close, he'd keep me informed about the podcast and everything. I knew he wanted more from me, but I never gave it to him. We kissed once, but that was it. I never liked him, and he's not my type. You're my type, and—"

"Bella."

I can hear the rejection in his voice, but I haven't given up yet.

"I miss you," I confess before I lose my nerve. "I know that's crazy, and you probably don't want to hear that. But I do. I really, really miss you. And I'm so sorry for everything."

His eyes close before piercing me with his intense gaze. "I appreciate that. I really do. And I miss you, too. But I don't think we should… I just…" He stares up at the night sky, maybe because he doesn't want to see the sting of rejection on my face. "This whole thing is really fucking strange. I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything."

My chest deflates. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just…" He exhales, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. But I can't."

He can't.

It's concise and fucking hurts.

My heart-to-heart with Heidi nearly two weeks ago gave me hope that, with time, Edward would want something more with me. But he doesn't. I guess what I felt for him was more than what he felt for me. Which, unfortunately, I understand. We don't have years of history to fall back on but merely weeks of flirting banter and unresolved sexual tension. Our connection wasn't enough for him to overlook what I did.

"Okay. Got it." I nod and blink away the tears that fill my eyes. "No, that makes sense. I get it."

His expression softens, but he doesn't take back what he said.

With shaking hands, I fumble in my purse for my keys and unlock my car. He opens the driver's side door for me, making me feel worse about his politeness.

"I won't bother you anymore," I say through a watery smile, but the idea of never seeing or talking to him again hurts. "Or we can keep it strictly about Rosalie and the case. I'm going to Forks to talk with Jane next weekend, so I can touch base with you afterward to let you know if I learn something new."

I'm grasping at straws here, looking for anything to keep us connected. If our friendship has to be strictly about the case, then so be it. I'll take what I can get.

Edward's brows knit together. "You're going to Forks?"

I slide into my seat, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yeah. Jackson wanted us to go together, but Jane refused to talk to him. She agreed to speak to me, though."

"Yeah, keep me posted if that's okay."

I buckle my seatbelt. "Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay…" I trail off, ready to escape him to cry alone in my car. I can feel my emotions bubbling in my chest, ready to spill over, and I don't want him to witness it. "I need to go," I whisper.

Concern flashes over his face. "Sorry. I… okay. Yeah. Be safe, Bella," he says softly, closing my door.

He hesitates on the sidewalk, but I stare forward out the windshield. When I start my car, he takes the hint and walks away.

I wipe my eyes, desperate to keep it together.

It's only when Edward's entirely out of sight that I let myself cry.