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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