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39

My eyes skim over the article without comprehending much of anything. The anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach morphs, becoming full-fledged panic that constricts my throat, making it hard to breathe.

As I walked around, it became clear that Ms. Swan's work is mediocre at best and that she's only gotten to the height she has through pure luck and social media magic. With her glistening new store just feet away from Cullen & Volturi LLC, where her boyfriend, Edward Cullen, is the most sought-after marketing extraordinaire in the city of Seattle, it makes one wonder if all of this, the posts made by Rosalie Hale, weren't some elaborate ruse to get his girlfriend on the map.

Before I'm able to take in any more, Angela slams her laptop shut, turning to look at me with wide, worried, and panic-filled eyes.

"Don't listen to her." She pleads, but it's too late; the few words I was able to read from the core of the article are playing on repeat in my mind.

…mediocre at best…

…where her boyfriend, Edward Cullen, is the most sought after marketing extraordinaire…

I don't know how she knows I'm dating Edward; I purposefully avoided the subject during the interview. However she found out, she was quick to use it against me, pinning everything Angela and I had built as a success that he concocted. Not giving us any of our rightfully deserved credit.

But what if she's right? Am I really talented enough to be this successful? Certainly, there were people who were much more deserving of everything I've amassed.

"Bella, please don't go there." Angela scolds like she can read my train of thoughts. "This is just one meaningless person's opinion."

It's hard for me to just shake it off. My brain's been wired to believe disparaging remarks about my art for so long that it's easier for me to believe Tanya over Angela, and it makes me want to vomit.

"Say something." She stands, taking a tentative step in my direction. "I need you to say something. You're starting to freak me out."

As I read what little I was able to, I'd gone silent as I internalized everything. If I'd screamed and yelled, she would've been able to gauge how I'm feeling, but my catatonic state's leaving her in the dark.

"I'm okay." I finally grit out in a voice that doesn't even sound like my own.

"Don't do that." She replies, looking at me like she feels helpless. "Don't say you're fine when you're clearly not."

I rub my temples, feeling my head pounding. Today's been a lot already, and I feel like I'm on the verge of having a full-on breakdown.

"I think I need to go." I turn and head out of the office, not even waiting for her to reply.

"Bells, please don't leave." Angela is hot on my heels as I head toward the back door where I parked, pleading with me.

I face her when I make it to my truck, the look on her face breaking my heart in two. I've never seen Angela look so distraught.

"I just…" I fiddle with my keys with shaking fingers. "I need a breather."

So many emotions cross her features as she weighs what she should do.

"I understand." She concedes after a moment, giving a half smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Please text me when you get home so I know you're alive."

"I will."

I can tell she doesn't actually want to let me leave, but she doesn't protest when I climb into my truck and start the engine.

When I pull into the parking lot of my apartment, I can't even tell you how I made it there. I feel like I'm in a haze. It's quiet when I walk inside; my mom's still at Kate's, and I'm grateful for the solitude as I lean back against the door to take a few deep breaths that don't seem to do anything to ease the tightness in my chest.

I keep my promise and text Angela that I'm home, then put my phone on silent, chucking it on my bed as I slop into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt I stole while we were in Portland, burying my nose in the collar. It smells like him, and I feel some of the tension in my shoulders relax some.

My mom does end up coming home not even an hour later; Angela called to let her know what was going on. All she does is sit next to me on the couch, pulling me into her side as I finally let the tears I've been fighting since this morning fall.

A little while later, I'm curled up under a blanket with an episode of House, MD on the TV, but I'm not really watching it, as Mom works on making me some soup because it's all I could think of that I'd be able to force down after she insisted I eat something, when there's a rapid knock on the door.

"Is she here?" Edward asks my mom, sounding frantic.

They share a few more words in hushed tones I can't hear before he's in front of me, taking a seat on the coffee table. He's soaking wet, rain dripping off the hair hanging over his forehead, and his white button-down was all but see-through.

"Hey," he greets me in a quiet voice, his hand coming to my cheek as he inspects my face. He doesn't ask how I am, and I'm grateful.

"You forgot your umbrella." I remark. He stole my line. I was always the one without it.

My words have him cracking a smile. "I did." He lets out a huff that's supposed to be a laugh. "I tried to call you."

I flinch. My phone was still on my bed where I'd left it earlier in my desperation to be left alone. Guilt swarms me at the thought of how many times he tried to get ahold of me.

"I'm sorry." I bite my lip, feeling tears burning the back of my throat. "I couldn't deal, so I put my phone on silent and left it in my room."

"It's okay," his thumb strokes my cheek, "you're okay." He adds the last part, telling himself that more than me.

"Did you read it?" I ask, looking up into those green, green eyes of his, seeing anger and protectiveness swirling in their depths.

His jaw clenches. "Yeah." There's so much in that one word. "I wanted to throw my computer across the room; I was so fucking angry." He looks at me softly. "You know she's full of shit, right?"

I look at House and Cuddy arguing on the screen behind him. "It's really hard for me not to believe it."

He releases an agonized sound in the back of his throat. "I know." He says. Because he does. He's the only one who knows exactly why it's hard for me to brush off the whole thing like it's no big deal. Tanya's words played right into my insecurities and exploited them. "I would've been here sooner, but I was in a meeting most of the day and didn't know what was happening until twenty minutes ago."

"Don't worry about it." I shrug. "I understand. Work comes first."

He takes my hand, kissing the back of it. "You come first. Always."

His words and the fierceness behind them have tears stinging my eyes. He was such a caring person, and all I did was make his life harder.

"Talk to me. What are you thinking about?"

I don't want to answer his question, but I do anyway. "About how much better… easier your life would be without me."

"That's so not true, Bella. You make my life infinitely better. There's no way in hell I'm letting you go anywhere."

"I'm in a bad place today. That's just where my head's at right now." I take his hand in both of mine, stroking his knuckles. "I'm glad you're here." With all that happened today, he was the only one I wanted.

"Always, baby." He presses his forehead against mine. "Just so you know, Tanya's on my list of people to murder on your behalf."

For the first time today, I actually laugh. And it feels good.

See you next time.