No Children

She'd been watching me for a long time.

Every night I would linger in the city, looking for an excuse to stay away from the silent
tension of the ranch house. Now that Bella had left – or more accurately, now that I had
kicked her out – the house felt so much more empty. Sometimes I would go out with Emmett
and Rosalie, sometimes I would visit with my mother. On nights like tonight, I just wanted to
be around people I didn't know. Nameless, but not alone.

I ran my fingers over the smooth glass of the bottle, the cool of the sweat sliding over my skin
easily. I kept my eyes fixed on the wood of the bar in front of me, trying to ignore her. I could
feel her eyes roaming over my body like a predator. I knew what she would see when she
looked: handsome, single, and in need of a distraction.

Only one of those was true.

I took another sip of my drink and I tried not to think about her eyes, burning into my back. I
had thought that I would miss the interest, the attention, the desire. I had been without it for so
long.

But I didn't.

I wished she would look somewhere else.

I came to this bar almost every night. I hardly ever drank anymore – maybe sipped at a beer
or two as I sat and lingered for hours. I told myself over and over that I just needed a place to
unwind, that I enjoyed the atmosphere, that I liked watching people interact. But I wasn't
being honest with myself.

I was waiting for her.

I had been sitting in this same bar, at the same table, several weeks ago. It was a Thursday
night and I was out drinking with some friends when she walked through the door. She was
surrounded by a group of people, smiling and light, tendrils of chestnut hair twisting around
her neck and breezing into her face, porcelain skin and slender build, dark eyes that laughed.
I felt my breath catch in my throat as she walked towards the bar, the only person in the
room. All her friends – hell, everyone in the bar – were black and white, grey shapes moving
around her. She alone was in vibrant, shocking color. Without a doubt one of the most
beautiful women I had ever seen.

That night, I had simply watched her.

I saw the alcohol make her giddy and careless, her energy expanding the more she drank until
she was completely and deliciously free. She was friendly and polite to everyone that spoke to
her, whether she knew them or not. She was animated when she talked, flailing her limbs
emphatically as she told a story or answered a question.

She was so incredibly alive.

I didn't speak to her that night; something I always regretted. And the following weeks – every
night – I returned to the bar hoping she would come back, hoping that I would get the chance
to talk to her just once; to hear her voice, to bask in her light. It was all I really wanted, just a
moment with her and nothing more. And night after night I became more determined, more
obsessed.

Finally, a little over a month after I had first laid eyes on her, she appeared again.

She walked in with a smaller group, my head whipping around to face the door as if I had felt
her enter. She was with two girls who were hanging off of two boys.

She was alone.

I sat – paralyzed – for several minutes as I watched her settle at the bar. She spoke with her
friends for a while, laughing and joking, sipping at a clear drink that I couldn't identify from a
distance.

I felt someone slide into the chair beside me and a quick glance revealed a cute little blonde,
smiling timidly as she looked at me. I shot up from my chair, away from the girl, as if I had
been electrocuted.

Once I was on my feet, I couldn't stop myself from moving to her.

I walked up and slid onto the stool at her side, leaning against the bar awkwardly. I took a
deep breath and gathered all my courage before saying, "Can I buy you a drink?"

She turned to face me, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. They were a deep, rich dark that
matched her hair and contrasted dangerously with the ivory of her skin. I watched them as
they trailed down my body, then back up shamelessly. I felt like I was naked before her, an
offering.

Her expression shifted to one of mischief as she met my eyes again, a small smile playing at
the corners of her delicate mouth.

She leaned forward and her fingers were at my neck suddenly, brushing the skin briefly before
falling to my tie. I felt her loosen it with a familiar intimacy before she went to work on the
top three buttons of my shirt. I swallowed nervously, my heart hammering in my throat as I
watched her, not moving an inch.

She was fearless.

When she had finished, she drew back and looked at me for a moment with a satisfied
expression before turning to the bartender.

"A gin and tonic, please," she ordered quietly.

The perfect lilt of her voice crushed me.

I felt the familiar turn of the air as someone slid onto the stool beside me. I kept my eyes
down, refusing to look up into the eyes of the woman who had been watching me so hungrily

for so long. After a moment, she leaned in close, her breath hot on my neck and smelling like
cinnamon and vodka.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," she purred.

I shrugged, still not looking up. "Haven't been here before."

Her smile was so bright that I could sense it out of the corner of my eye. She placed her hand
on my arm gently and I was startled at the contact, jerking slightly beneath her touch. She
didn't seem to notice and kept her fingers firmly latched onto my sleeve, kneading the skin
underneath like a cat.

"I'd have remembered you," she told me.

"Yeah?" I turned to look at her at last, my eyebrows raising slightly as I took in her long red
hair and ivory skin. She was beautiful, unnaturally so. And her eyes…such a dark, fiery
brown.

They were so much like Bella's eyes when we had first met.

"Mmmm," the woman confirmed with a hum. Then she looked up at me through thick lashes.
"Buy you a drink?"

I looked at her for a moment, taking in her appearance and her heavy voice, miles of skin I
could see and the appetizing smell of her hair.

I shrugged. "Why not?"

The woman beamed at me and motioned to the bartender, waving him over to take our drink
orders. She ordered a vodka martini. I ordered a gin and tonic.

When the man behind the bar placed our drinks in front of us, the woman smiled at him and
took a small sip before turning back to me, holding out her hand.

"I'm Victoria," she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you Victoria," I reached my hand out to take hers, feeling her squeeze my
fingers suggestively with a little more force and warmth than was necessary. "I'm…" I
paused. "Lance."

I wasn't sure why I lied.

She took my hesitation in stride, and if she knew I was lying to her, she didn't call me out on
it. Instead, her grin widened considerably and she asked, "As in Lancelot?"

"I suppose so," I said with a small smile, moderately amused by her attempt at humor.

"Good with your sword then?"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Victoria certainly didn't believe in wasting time. Normally
that would have been extremely off-putting, but tonight I thought maybe that was okay.

I'd already wasted plenty.

"I'm going to give you my number again," she said, digging through her bag as she looked for
a pen and paper. "Don't lose it this time."

I watched her silently as she emerged victorious, her hand gripping a pencil as she ripped a
sheet of paper out of a small datebook. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I hadn't really
lost her number, that I would never lose anything she gave me, but that I had simply been too
afraid to call her.

I had left the program at the prestigious Northwest Hospital and transferred to the little
University lab when I learned she was a student. I hadn't even thought about it when I sent in
the request papers, it didn't even feel like a choice. All that I knew was that I had to see her
again. When I had met her at the little café coincidentally, when she had told me she had a
boyfriend, I felt like my entire world was crumbling. I resolved that I wouldn't seek her out,
that I wouldn't do anything to hurt her or to jeopardize a relationship that she was obviously
happy in.

As if I could.

I had no idea that she was chronically clumsy, constantly in and out of the ER with minor and
major injuries alike, all seeming to be old hat. And when I had seen her sitting in the waiting
room, holding her arm, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't escape her.

"Who is that?" I asked the triage nurse.

She looked down at the check-in list and glanced at me curiously when she replied, "Isabella
Swan."

That name.

It had to be her.

When she had given me her number in gratitude, I had assumed she was just being polite. I
couldn't call her knowing that she didn't really want me to. But when she placed the little
scrap of paper holding her phone number in my hand for the second time, I knew I didn't have
the strength to resist her any longer. I closed the paper firmly in my palm, crushing it tightly
in my fist.

She smiled up at me and shrugged, "If I'm going to keep taking advantage of your friendship,
we should probably be friends first."

I laughed, "I suppose so."

I held my arm out to her and she gripped it tightly as I helped her down from the examination
table. She limped on her sprained ankle, walking gingerly beside me as I slowed my pace to
match hers. I could feel her hand burning heat on the skin of my arm and I shivered slightly,
remembering the spark and burn of her lips.

I didn't know how I was supposed to be her friend.

But it was better than nothing.

"Did I embarrass you?" Victoria giggled at my silence.

I turned my attention back to her reluctantly. "No."

And it was the truth.

I was beyond being embarrassed by the petty, insecure attempts at seduction that were
presented to me by women from time to time. Maybe there was a point in my life when I
would flush at a beautiful woman reaching for my tie, kissing my lips, smiling and charming,
but not now. I wasn't that man anymore.

"You're blushing," she told me, her smile still large and playful.

I smirked at her, knowing what she wanted. "Just considering the possibilities," I shot back,
my voice lowering suggestively.

She blinked back at me, caught off guard. Then a smile curled her lips up again and I saw
excitement glint in her eyes.

"You should." She winked and put her hand on my thigh. "There are a lot of them."

I knew I could fuck her anytime I wanted to.

Outside behind the bar, in her car, in a hotel room. Or all three.

It would be a few minutes of oblivion. A few minutes where I wouldn't hurt, wouldn't have to
think. I'd be in control.

She wouldn't be disappointed. I wouldn't be confused.

And then I'd get up and walk away. I wouldn't care at all.

Would Bella?

My hand snaked up to my hair in frustration.

I knew Bella wouldn't care. And if she did…well, I didn't care if she did. She shouldn't.

Bella was gone, had been gone all week. Any attempts I had made to reach out, to apologize,
had been generally ignored by her. I hadn't expected anything else after throwing her out of
the house, hadn't expected her to see the shift in me as soon as I had felt it. I hadn't expected

her to know that I saw what she was doing and it had changed me. But she hadn't returned to
the house and I was unsure that she ever would. And it wasn't her fault.

It was empty there.

Victoria seemed to grow impatient with my silence and she slid her hand up my thigh and
grabbed onto my arm again, tugging at me lightly. "Do you want to dance, Lance?"

"Why not?"

So we did.

She pressed her body into mine, trying to arouse me. It wasn't long until I felt myself get hard.
And for my part, I closed my eyes and took pleasure in physical contact with someone. It had
been a long time.

It was better than…nothing.

"So, Lance, my place isn't far."

"No?"

"Come on. We can walk."

"Alright."

We walked out of the bar, and she led me down the street. I took a deep breath and set my
jaw.

Might as well get it over with.

"This is Irina," I introduced the woman at my side.

I watched Jacob reach out and take her hand, shaking it politely. Then Bella moved forward,
introducing herself with a smile. As we turned to take our seats, she turned to me and winked.

I swallowed.

Her hair was pulled back loosely, half of it falling around her shoulders, curling and smelling
sweet. The black dress she was wearing hit just below her knees and was modest, but I could
still feel my entire body heat up as I allowed my eyes a brief moment to trail down her legs.

She was wearing red Chuck Taylors.

I smiled as I pulled Irina's chair out for her, then took my own seat across from Jacob.

"So, Irina," Bella began, placing her napkin delicately on her lap as she tucked in. "What is it
that you do?"

I looked away, not really listening to the other woman's answer.

This was our little tradition. Bella would interrogate my dates until appetizers were served,
then she would tease me and tell me what a wonderful woman I had found. We would eat
dinner with Jacob and Bella joking lightly to each other, trying to include us. At some point
Bella would ask me how my work was going.

I didn't know if this was how every dinner with Bella and Jacob would be, or if this was just
their first date act. I didn't know because I only went on first dates.

And then at the end of the night, I would drive my date home and drop her off without kissing
her.

Irina was no different.

Like the rest, she was very pretty, intelligent enough, and kind-hearted. She had a slightly
more severe demeanor than some of the other women I had dated, but she was polite. She
talked with Bella animatedly, was comfortable with me, was easy to get along with.

When I pulled up to her house, I expected her to pause, to wait – as so many of them did – for
me to lean in and try to kiss them.

She hesitated with her hand on the door and I sighed, turning my head to tell her goodnight
dismissively, hoping she wasn't one of the girls I would have to spell it out to.

But when my eyes rested on her, she didn't look like she was waiting for a kiss. There was
almost…sympathy in her expression.

"How long have you loved her?" she asked suddenly.

I felt my mouth drop open in surprise and I forced it shut quickly. "Who?" I asked, playing
dumb as I tried to recover myself.

"Bella," Irina said, rolling her eyes. "How long?"

I sighed and scrubbed my face with my hands, not at all expecting to have this conversation
with anyone, let alone a woman I barely knew.

"Forever," I shrugged, trying to make light of it, trying not to let her see me.

She wasn't convinced.

She looked at me hard for several seconds before she said firmly, "It won't work, Edward."

She stepped out of the car and closed the door before I could reply.

I waited quietly behind her as Victoria unlocked the door to her apartment. She fumbled
drunkenly with her keys before finally succeeding, pushing the door open quickly. She spun
around and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me inside at the same she crashed her lips up
against mine.

They tasted of desperate and drunk, wet and delicious and completely wrong. I could feel my
body go rigid against hers, unable to make my lips move.

She pulled back slightly, still fisting the front of my shirt tightly in her hand.

"Are you alright?" she asked, even though I knew she didn't really care.

I shrugged and pulled myself away from her for a moment. She stood, watching, as I ran my
hand through my hair again. "You've probably heard about it."

"It?" she asked, confused.

"The whole thing with Arthur and Guinevere," I explained. "Very difficult."

Her eyes lit up, not really understanding. I didn't expect her to.

"Oh yes, that would be," she laughed. Then she added, "Lucky for you…I'm nobody's lady."

"It's my lucky day."

She smiled at me, missing everything. Her eyes that were so alive were also vacant, uncaring
and unattached. Maybe it was what I needed.

"Want another drink?" she offered, walking over to the liquor cabinet.

"Why not?"

She giggled as she mixed drinks with her back to me. "You say that a lot, you know that?"

"It's better than asking why."

"Guess so." She turned around, a drink in each hand. "Have a seat." She indicated the couch,
and I obliged.

She handed me my drink, climbed into my lap and started to unbutton my shirt. Her lips found
mine, and I kissed her back hard. My mouth moved from hers down her neck, and I
murmured in her ear, "Bella."

She pulled back slightly.

"Victoria," she corrected.

But she was unfazed and began to work the buttons on her own top.

Not Bella.

Victoria.

Not Bella.

She pressed into me again and kissed my neck.

I couldn't go slow enough, be gentle enough, wanting to savor every single moment of what
she was giving me. But I could help the fear that also lingered below the surface, that if I went
too slow, was too gentle, she would slip away.

She had come running into the hospital, wild and teary-eyed, begging and trembling and
wanting to be near me and I couldn't stand to see the sadness in her eyes. I drove her to my
apartment, my hand holding hers the entire way. She kept squeezing me tightly, in painful
contractions.

When she had stepped out of her clothes suddenly, I felt the entire world come to a screeching
halt.

Her eyes were always so sad. I had started to notice when I spent time with her, when we
would meet for lunch or hang around her apartment with Jacob or go out drinking. She hid it
well, but underneath there was this deep pain, this hurt that I wanted to take from her. She
lived and she loved and she was stronger than her past, but it was always there. Subdued and
waiting.

Her eyes were screaming now.

She stood before me, hands at her sides, all perfection and expectation. Her hair fell in
tangled snarls around her face, sticking to her skin through the tears. Her face was red and in
agony. Her entire body was shaking and wonderful, the lines of her clean and strong under
the soft of her skin.

I had never seen anyone being tortured, but she was how I imagined they would look. The
depth of her, the hidden places that she showed to no one, I could see everything. I didn't
understand it, but I knew it. Knew it on a level deeper than words. The rejection and the
abandonment and the self-loathing all crashing to the surface in front of me as she stood,
demanding that I love her.

It was a long time before I could speak. I felt her drawing away from me, her face flushing,
and I saw her strength waning to shame. The fearlessness I had seen the night I had met her
was gone, it was only a mask. Tear it off and I loved her even more.

So I told her.

I told her that I loved her and felt her slip into me, into the comfort of my arms and my bed
and I knew it was nothing to her and everything to me and I couldn't, for the life of me, make
myself care.

From the minute I had said her name, it had been over for me. I couldn't stomach the illusion,
the delusion that this would buy me peace or comfort. I sat there for another minute, but when
Victoria's hands reached for my buckle, I deposited her on the couch as I stood.

"I can't. I'm sorry. I have to go."

"You're kidding right?"

But I was already to the door.

She was standing in front of me, her face pale and afraid. I could see her cheeks heating red
in embarrassment as my eyes traveled slowly down to her arm. There was blood dripping
thickly from the wound, running in trails along the white of her skin, and all I could think
about was what my life would be if she was gone.

I could feel how delicate she was when I seized her, desperate to make sure she was real, that
she hadn't gotten away from me. The snow fell around us quietly in the dark, only throwing
into sharp contrast the violence of my movement, the trembling of her body, and the loud hiss
of my words as I demanded to know where she had been.

I watched the soup running down the wall in satisfying streams, feeling the fear rolling off of
Bella in waves as she lept to her feet. She was snapping and spitting at me through her
confusion and I reveled in it. I didn't want her kindness.

I saw the way my mother was looking at her, saw the sympathy and the confusion and the
questions swimming behind her eyes. Bella's eyes looked sad.

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you leave me back in New York? Why am I here,
Edward?"

I pulled into the driveway of the ranch house, the memory of our last fight lingering just
below the surface. I killed the engine and sat in the car for several moments, gripping the
steering wheel hard. I didn't want to face going into the dark emptiness of the house.

Not again.

I sighed, frustrated at myself for my weakness, wishing that I could just forget. Alice loved
her, Jasper didn't seem to mind her presence when I had talked to him. I should just enjoy my
privacy while I had it, wish for it to never end. I glanced down at my cellphone in the seat
beside me, knowing that no one had called.

With a disgusted huff, I opened the door and stepped out into the night. I grabbed my phone
and shut the car door behind me, walking up the steps of the porch with resignation.

When I opened the door I paused momentarily.

The light was on in the hallway.

She was back?

An intense feeling washed over me at the thought, a feeling that was neither hope nor anger
nor fear nor happiness. I listened carefully for movement upstairs, my entire body tensing up
as I strained my ears for the tiniest sound.

I walked slowly into the kitchen, not hearing anything. I could feel the crackling tension in the
air as I flicked on the light, wondering if she was back in her room, trying to understand what
had made her come back. Every worst case scenario flickered through my head in the span of

a second. Blood and illness and death all wearing her face. If it was an emergency, wouldn't
she have called?

It was like the crashing of wave after wave, with no sign of relief. I had no idea what she
wanted now, if she was here to fight with me or tell me she was leaving for good or to
demand a divorce or to slap my face. I wouldn't know how to respond to any of it. I wouldn't
know how to respond to her.

I flung myself quickly up the stairs to the small, cold room that had once been mine. The door
was closed, the light was off, and when I walked in I knew it was empty.

Walking back down the stairs slowly, I could feel my tension mounting.

Where was she? What did she want? Why was she here?

When I reached the bottom floor again, my eyes snapped to the entrance of the library, where
I could see a small, dim light burning through the dark.

I walked to the door slowly, anxiety mounting, holding my breath.

As I stepped inside, my eyes immediately fell on the small body in one of the armchairs. Not
here to fight, not here to leave, not here to accuse or torment or demand. She was completely
silent, curled up like a cat, her eyes closed and her breathing steady; sound asleep.

I released my breath as I felt my heart start to pound.

"Bella?"