Wide awake

Chapter Forty Three. Strawberry Stand Stills Part 2

B.P.O.V

Thirty four days after Edward’s birthday, I was busy in the hospital lounge slaving over the last of my day’s charts and a hot cup of coffee when I heard my name announced on the loud speaker.

Dr. Cullen to reception. Dr. Cullen to reception.

The soft voice was professionally sweet and I recognized the slight twinge of annoyance in Linda’s voice as she called for me. With a sigh, I rose from my seat and tucked my charts away under my arm, balancing the coffee in my hands as I exited the lounge and approached the reception desk.

Linda had her fingers pecking rapidly at a keyboard while I deposited the charts indifferently. She didn’t offer me a glance, and I suppressed an eye roll at her juvenile immaturity before I noticed someone standing before her.

Esme.

She met my eyes with a small smile that made me swallow thickly as I hesitantly forced my own. She looked stunning and perfect and indecently smug at annoying the receptionist who had made more advances toward me than I’d really care to admit.

Esme walked around the desk to my side, leaning her elbow on the surface and turning to face me. “Are you free for dinner?” She whispered, and I couldn’t disregard the deep sadness that penetrated her eyes as she nervously fidgeted with the visitor passes aligned on the desk top.

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at my shoes as I tilted my head and mulled through the possibilities of what she sought from any such engagement. I wouldn’t allow myself to be strung along anymore, and I didn’t want to invite the temptation the occasion would bring. But I somehow felt as though I owed her an explanation for my actions; one that I could convey while sober and emotionally untainted by disappointment in Edward’s disregard for me. So I agreed with a nod and led her out of the hospital silently.

We took separate cars to the small diner in town, remaining silent as we entered and chose an appropriately private location in a back booth. I was beginning to detest the booth concept all together, but the mediocre coffee was hot and caffeinated and I was dragging my feet from the long shift and late nights spent researching.

“Tired?” She asked as she sipped her drink and frowned.

I nodded, relaxing into my booth and wondering when she would just simply… ‘cut the shit’, as Edward would say. “Long week.” I fixed my eyes on the tiles of the floor and waited. Waiting was what I did best after all.

When the waitress asked for our orders, we both declined. And then I felt ridiculous for even entering a diner when neither of us intended to actually eat. We came here to engage in a private conversation and nothing else, and this annoyed me. That’s what homes were meant for. Of course, Esme never came to my home, unless it was in relation to Bella.

“How are Alice and Bella?” I asked politely as I sipped my coffee, though I already knew the answer I sought. Alice was a perfectly functioning teenage girl, and I had learned enough about PTSD and sleep deprivation over the last month to know exactly how Bella was coping.

She smiled and clasped her hands on the table. “Alice is good. Spending a lot of time with Bella…” She trailed off and her eyes grew downcast. I noticed the tight frown that followed. “Bella is much the same I suppose. No change.” She whispered to her hands while rubbing her palms together.

I wanted to say something incredibly pompous, like… I told you so. I told you that you were suffocating her and just making her resent you. I told you this would all blow up in our faces. I told you it wasn’t attacking the problem at its source.

But I pressed my lips together and kept my opinions to myself. She wouldn’t want my input anyhow. If she ever had, we wouldn’t have been here, now, in this diner, feeling awkward and tip toeing around the real matters at hand.