-End Flashback-

So many memories. So many recollections that I thought I would one day look back upon in happiness. Instead, they twisted my heart, clenching and manipulating it until the joy’s only parting gift was the agony left behind in its wake. The same way Edward had left me behind to writhe in the torture of a fate I wanted no part in.

I yearned to allow the tears to flow, unhindered. But Edward was trying so hard to make this night a good one for me, and so I had to try as well, for him. He was waiting for my answer and I thrust back the pain to give it to him.

“No, I don’t go to Jones’ Tree Farm anymore.” Even I could hear the regret in my voice, and I knew that he would pick up on it as well. He was too perceptive for me to hope that he might not hear the sorrow as I spoke.

“Oh,” was all he said. He spoke slowly as he took in my response. After a moment of silence, he continued by asking, “Where do you get it then?”

I winced. I knew my answer would give away that he was still hurting me, and that the pain of our separation was still cutting away at my heart. I didn’t want to make him suffer that. He didn’t need to know. Still, he would see through any lie I managed to conjure. Despite our years of separation, he could still read my voice better than anyone else could, including myself—even across the phone lines.

“Actually, I have a fake one,” I said quietly, scrunching my eyes shut.

“Ah. I see.” His voice was impassive, and I wondered how much pain he was concealing beneath the veneer.

“I just don’t have a lot of time anymore.” I tried to excuse myself. “And it was easier to have the fake one, you know?”

“Mmhmm, I know,” Edward murmured distantly, and my heart fell. The night was being ruined once again, and it was all my fault…once again.

“Edward,” I began. I was weary of the awkwardness that existed between us. Why couldn’t we just be friends? As I thought about it, I realized it was his fault as much as mine. Allowing himself to be bothered by my inconsequential plastic Christmas tree. Good grief. He shouldn’t care…just like I shouldn’t care.

“Yes Bella?” He asked tiredly. Like he knew exactly what I was going to say. But the sad tone in his voice broke my resolve, and my words vanished.

They were replaced by an urge to comfort him, and I said, “I’m glad you called.” Even if it wasn’t what I had wanted to say, I meant this with all my heart.

Edward seemed to understand. “Good,” he said in relief. “Because I like calling you.”

I blushed like I was a teenage girl again, and my heart swelled. Edward was never anything but sincere, and I could always tell when he was lying, because he wouldn’t speak with that customary assurance that what was he was saying was true.

But this…I knew he was being honest in this. He liked to call me. He liked talking to me. His words almost sent me to forbidden depths; I almost began to hope…almost. But I pulled myself from the brink at the last moment, knowing that I would only be in more pain later. The hope just wasn’t worth the pain, and I had to look at this logically. Just because Edward wanted to talk to me didn’t mean he wanted to be with me.

But it was enough for now, and I grinned. “Thank you,” I said breathlessly.

“Anytime,” he murmured.