Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Picking up the Pieces Update

Picking up the Pieces on FicPad

Picking up the Pieces on AO3

Picking up the Pieces on TWCS

“Mom?” I called, letting myself into the house.

“In the library, Edward,” she replied. I walked through the house and found my mom curled on the leather sofa, covered with a blanket with a book in her lap. “You look troubled, son.” She patted the couch. “Talk to your mother.”

After I had talked to Bella about meeting up to go for groceries, deeming it a ‘date,’ she had been distant toward me. Her text messages were short and somewhat cold and when I asked her for a time to get together, she never gave me a straight answer. Her response was ‘I’ll call you when I’m done.’

“Edward, talk to me. I’m not a mind reader,” Esme snickered, putting her feet on my lap. “You’ve got that constipated/I’m-thinking-too-hard/life sucks face on.”

“Really, Mom?”

“Edward, spill,” Esme demanded.

“So, on Wednesday, I was talking to Bella on the phone,” I blushed. “We’d been going grocery shopping together since I’m helpless in the kitchen. She was going to give me cooking lessons and show me ways to make different meals incorporating veggies.”

“I could kiss her. Finally! After thirty-six years, my son finally gets that he needs to eat his greens,” Esme giggled. She sobered quickly, looking at me. “Tell me more.”

“Flippantly, I said that it was a ‘date’ when I was talking to her on Wednesday to go grocery shopping and then for her to give me my first cooking lesson. Since then, she’s been, um, distant.”

“You know what Wednesday was, right?” Esme asked, her green eyes softening.

“It was the anniversary of her husband’s death,” I replied.
“Edward, I love you, baby, but you shouldn’t have said that. Bella, while a beautiful and amazingly strong woman, is nowhere ready to date. Even in the flippant sense,” Esme admonished lightly.

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