Wide awake

Chapter Fifty Three. Monumental Macaroons Part 2

E.P.O.V

"Goddammit," I cursed again as I watched her door close pitifully, releasing my hair and wiping away my tears. I was so fucking sick and tired of crying. I was so sick and tired of messing everything up.

I am so fucking fucked.

She hated me. It was even worse than I'd allowed myself to imagine. The fact that Carlisle had accepted me back like the prodigal had given me a false sense of hope that she'd just let me explain it to her, and she'd understand. But she didn't and I wasn't entirely sure if I could blame her. I've never looked like such an asshole, and that's saying a lot. I fucked her and left with next to no communication whatsoever. How could she feel anything but hate for me? 

She had a particular emptiness in her eyes the first time our gazes met in the bedroom, and I just knew I was fucked. It reminded me of how she looked that first night we met: tired, numb, and existing without living. Skinny. Too skinny. And pale. And she was still the most beautiful fucking thing I'd ever seen. 

A shuffle from behind me, followed by a familiar sigh, alerted me to Carlisle's presence on the stairs. Great, I thought bitterly at the fact he had seen any portion of what had just occurred. Add insult to injury. Looking back at my behavior as I begged Bella to listen to me-on my knees-was humiliating. My inhibitions were lost in the emotions that our reunion had produced. Now I felt like a complete moron and there were witnesses. Perfect. 

I didn't turn to acknowledge him as I dropped my face into my hands and mumbled aloud, "She hates me," as if this explained my theatrics and absolved my shame. 

I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps grow closer, and then felt fingers in my hair, caressing my scalp gingerly. It was an oddly affectionate gesture that briefly puzzled me. It wasn't like him at all.

"Let me talk to her," a feminine voice that definitely wasn't Carlisle's startled me and my head jerked toward the sound above my head in fear. Esme stood over me, softly stroking my hair and smiling at me warmly. Her Bella-like eyes were familiar and soulful, but didn't hold any of the disdain I'd expect. Her expression was one of motherly compassion-one I hadn't really seen bestowed upon me for ten years. It was like I'd somehow been transported into some distorted version of the "Forks Twilight Zone." I rose slowly, infinitely more humiliated and uneasy. I darted my nervous eyes to Carlisle's where he observed her maternal manner with an expression of elation. Yes, I decided. Definitely a Twilight Zone moment…

My eyes followed her as she walked to Bella's door and knocked, softly requesting permission to enter. And then I panicked, wondering what she was going to say to her-how she was going to wedge us even farther apart than we already were, because that had to be her intention. She hated me, too.

She continued knocking, and the sound of Bella's protests were heard through the wood. Esme turned toward Carlisle and me and rolled her eyes, mouthing, "girls." Carlisle chuckled softly, and I honestly didn't like the idea of her interfering but was too chicken-shit to say so.

After a few moments of Esme's gentle persuasion-and an admittedly awkward tension that filled the hallway-the click of the lock sounded, and Esme was able to enter. 

Carlisle came to my side and stood, staring at the closed door with me as no sounds emerged. We waited for what felt like forever, neither of us speaking as we strained to hear what was occurring inside. I wished for x-ray vision or super-sensitive hearing or fucking… mind reading. 

Abruptly, a shriek penetrated the walls, incredulous and disbelieving and fiercely Bella. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

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