Hello, all! Maybe I'm caught up in the season, I don't know, but these words have been playing around in my mind and I have no choice but to write them all down and share with you all. I hope this little story with some of my favorite characters finds you all Merry and Bright! For those of you interested, I haven't given up on CBTM, I just needed some time to wake myself up again.

Let's get to it.

xxxx

"I'll see you around, then. Take care."

She sends me a small smile as the words leave her mouth, and she disappears from sight, the door behind her landing softly in its place. I'm not surprised that it doesn't slam; she never struck me as the type of girl who let her frustrations become openly visible. Some of the other ones I've dated, yes, absolutely. I'll even admit that I've been on the receiving end of things much worse than a door being slammed in my face.

It's quiet now that she's gone, my apartment void of any noise or movement other than the distant sounds coming from the city streets below. I've never minded the noise, or the quiet, but now that the night is over the reality of the situation is setting in, a once lively room now dripping in solidarity.

Single again and right before the holidays.

I shrug to myself in an attempt to move on and try to move forward, even though I move with what feels like the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Ending a relationship is never easy, no matter how many pep talks you give yourself or however long you put it off. I've always found that being honest is the best way to go, and I like to think that most break ups I've experienced ended on relatively good terms, even though it's never a position anyone wants to be in. I try to convince myself this as I plop down in my chair and turn on the television, welcome to any distraction that could bring me out of my own anxieties.

Angela was a nice girl, cute and funny, prim and proper. Perfect for anyone, really. And maybe she could have been perfect for me if the timing was right.

We hadn't been dating for too long. It wasn't serious, which I guess made for an easier split than if I had waited for after the holidays to have come and gone. I just knew that sometime after Thanksgiving, I had come home from visiting my family back in Forks, Washington and something about us just felt...off. I didn't get that rush in my chest, that weird feeling when you see someone and your heart just does that weird thing when you can almost feel it squeeze real tightly and then almost burst with excitement. Her kiss was warm but the magic faded sometime while I was gone, and maybe it was because I was so blinded by something else altogether. Caught so completely off guard that I didn't know up from down.

It isn't anything she did, or didn't do, for that matter. The hard part isn't admitting that I was the one who changed, the one who left on a Wednesday afternoon flight from Chicago and came back five days later with a changed heart. No, that wasn't hard at all.

The hard part was admitting why.

I still don't understand that part.

The why part.

Why, all of a sudden, I'm glued to my phone for personal reasons, and not for business purposes. I'm a thirty year old business owner in the busy city of Chicago - I'm always on my phone, and if I'm not, someone else is for me. But now, I'm that guy, the guy I never thought I'd be. I'm the guy who stops in the middle of the street whenever I feel the vibration of my phone in my pants pocket, the guy who tries to play it cool but will knock over two drinks, a complete pasta dinner, and someone's beloved mother to answer the ping of the phone.

I'm still trying to come to grips with being that guy as I walk into my office a week later, glimpsing at the thermostat on the way in. It's definitely cold outside, not too bad for being the beginning of December. It won't be long until snowfall and wind chill factors invade my television, and maybe that won't be such a bad thing. Maybe the frigid temperatures will knock some sense back into my head and allow me to focus on what I'm supposed to focus on, instead of the one thing that I'm forbidden to focus on. The one thing that breaks all sorts of Boy Code in possibly all the universe.

Seeing that the thermostat is set at our agreed temperature, I unlock the door to my office and throw my keys on my desk, tossing my jacket onto the brown leather couch next to the window. My office is nothing spectacular, having more flaws than perfections, but man, do I love it. Full of mixtures of dark browns and rich greens, as well as a spot in the corner that leaks every spring, it is mine and it stands for everything I've worked for. Four yours of undergrad followed by another two years for my MBA, and here I am, Edward Cullen, business consultant.

I notice I'm the first and only one in this morning, and I head out of my office and into the waiting room, switching on the coffee pot for my secretary and hoping that the warm brew melts away some of the chill. I grew up in a cold, mountain town so the impending Chicago winter isn't anything new to me, in fact, I think it actually helped me transition into being so far away from home. It reminds me of snowball fights and snowboarding in my best friend's backyard, and sometimes when I step out of my high rise apartment and call for a cab, it even smells like home.

My secretary, on the other hand, is a recent Chicago transplant, originally from Florida where the winters are hot and the summer even hotter. If it was up to her, the thermostat would stay at a steaming eighty degrees, and she'd still have the space heater on that I bought for her during her first winter here. Turns out, our different viewpoints on thermostat settings was the only thing we differed on.

Thank God, because at this sudden crisis in my life, the last thing I need is an unhappy female.

While I wait for the coffee to brew, I try to stop myself from checking my phone, or sending a text. I know I'm in too deep already, so hooked on whatever it is that's happening, and I know I should stop. I have to stop. We have to stop.

Morning run? That is what her text reads at 7:30 in the morning, and the smile that wipes across my face proves that I can't stop it if I tried.

Of course. Wasn't too cold, either. You? I respond, quickly sliding my phone back into my pocket when I hear the door chime open and my secretary, Shelly Cope, strolls inside. She's dressed in the biggest winter coat I've ever seen, with a scarf equally as thick to match. I can't help but laugh.

"Good morning to you too, Edward." She gruffs and takes the hat off her head, hanging it and the rest of her belongings on the rack beside her desk. "Tell me the coffee is ready."

I nod, "I tried having it ready and waiting on your desk for you but I guess I'm not as efficient as some of us."

Shelly Cope, my eternally temperature-challenged secretary is in her mid-sixties, the most friendly and feisty lady I've had the privilege of knowing and working with. A few years ago when I realized my business had become successful enough to warrant an extra set of hands to keep things in order, I sent out a classified ad for a secretary position. The pool was filled with qualified applicants but the minute that Shelly waltzed into my office and commented on my lunch, or lack thereof, I realized what I was looking for: someone to organize efficiently, kick ass and take names, and step into the role of a second mother that I didn't even know I was missing.

No one could ever take the place of my own mother but Shelly provides local comfort. With my mother living in Forks and me out here in Chicago, now I have someone who makes me chicken noodle soup when I'm sick, reminds me when I need a haircut, and most importantly, expertly keeps my consulting firm operational.

I don't know what I'd do without her.

She meets me at the coffee pot, taking the hot cup out of my hands to warm her own. "I've got years of practice with efficiency, darling. Comes with time." She jokingly gives me two soft slaps on my cheek, shaking her head at the sound of the ping from my phone again. Shit.

"At it already?" Shelly points to my phone that I've already whisked back out of my pocket and I almost drop it into the coffeepot sitting between us on the table. I'm a fucking mess.

I hate lying to her but considering the lie I'm currently keeping, this is nothing. "Uh, yeah. Mr. Call sent me the proposals." In all honesty, Mr. Call did send me the proposals. Two days ago.

I excuse myself shortly after, itching to shut the door to my office and jump into my work to try to take my mind off of the disaster that is now my life. Shelly heads to her desk, already bristling with today's tasks. The sun is bright as it beams into the room, and I sit and revel in the warmth before turning my attention back to my phone. I have deadlines from now until the New Year, a pile of paperwork on my desk that needs to be addressed, and lunch and dinner meetings booked for the week. The inbox for my email is growing as we speak and my work phone blinks with incoming messages but my priorities are not in order, or haven't been since I came home after Thanksgiving.

How the fuck did this happen?

I swear it isn't something I planned to ever happen. As I boarded the plane back home, I expected to feel the normal pangs of nostalgia as I hung out with my childhood friends, visited our old hangouts and spent time with my family. I wasn't surprised that my best friend, Emmett, had me laughing in tears at his latest shenanigans or that my Dad and I had bonded over a game of golf. I never would have thought that I'd step foot into a house that I practically grew up in and walk out of it feeling a certain way about the girl who had grown up there, too.

In my defense, I hadn't seen her in years. Emmett and I are four years older than her so once I went off to college, our schedules never really synced. My visits home were short and sweet and I spent most of my time meeting up with the guys and sneaking into whatever bar we could find. Soon enough it was her turn to head off to school, and after she graduated, her and a couple of friends spent the next few years traveling here and there while I put in the dirty work to start my firm.

So when I heard that Emmett's little sister, Bella, was back in town for good, or for at least the time being, I didn't think I would see her for more than a quick hello while I was waiting for Emmett or something.

I could not have been more wrong.

And now, here I am three weeks later, unable to think straight without thoughts and visions of my best friend's sister invading my mind.

Yes, I'm aware that I'm going straight to hell. It's a guy thing - you never fall for your best friend's sister. She's completely off limits, no matter how hot she is or how much you like her. Emmett's made it crystal clear since we were practically in diapers that his sister is not part of this game, and naturally, I agreed with him. None of my friends were allowed anywhere near my sister, Alice, especially Emmett, so I completely understood.

So as I sit here in the morning sun with my work phone ringing in my ear and my email piling, all I can think about is how shitty of a friend I am and how my heart starts to do these crazy somersaults when I see her name pop up on my phone. And at the risk of sounding juvenile, I haven't even touched her. Not a hug, not a kiss, definitely not a fuck. All of our conversations have been strictly friendly and nothing to be ashamed of. However, it's the increasing way that I look forward to every text and the way I feel while we talk that have me all sorts of fucked up. I had been casually seeing Angela for almost two months and hadn't felt a fraction of what a text message from Bella makes me feel.

That's how I know. That's how I know that whatever is happening is something completely beyond my control. I am powerless; a word from her renders me speechless and oh, hold on- she just texted me back.

Ugh, I'm so that guy.

Yes. Can't miss my morning run. Will you still run while you're here?

Here. Oh, yes, did I mention that I'm going back home for an early Christmas vacation? I planned on going home for a few days for Christmas like I always do but I decided to extend my vacation. By two weeks. My parents are thrilled, I am still in a state of shock, and Emmett is fucking clueless as to the real reason why my sudden interest in all things Forks.

I text her back almost instantly because it seems that's what we've been doing for the past two weeks - a steady stream of texts without any fucking rules about how long you need to wait before you text someone back. Just a good old fashioned conversation between friends.

I plan on it. We should do it together. So much for my plan to keep things strictly friendly between us.

Okay, awesome. The earlier the better. Can you do early, Cullen?

I groan at the thought of waking up early on vacation but Bella may be the one and only thing to wake me from my love affair with sleep. One of the many things I look forward to when I go back home is the laptop turned off, my work phone disconnected, my bed and the room darkening shades that hang in my room that makes it look like it's three in the morning the whole day long.

How early is your early?

No later than 8.

Maybe I need to rethink things.

Even on vacation?

She responds quickly, Even on vacation.

You're killin' me, Smalls.

You love it.

I'm a dead man.

xxxx

"Is it true? You're leaving in a week?" Shelly pokes her head into my office sometime in the early afternoon, looking at me incredulously.

"Good news travels fast, I see." I motion for her to sit in the chair across from me and she makes herself comfortable.

"Shocking news is more like it. What's going on?"

I sigh and toss a pen on my desk, and it clanks a little too loudly against my empty coffee cup from the morning. I must have worked through lunch, trying to arrange for my luncheons to be conducted over the phone before we all leave for vacations. Most of my clients close for business until the New Year, which means I have to have all my documentation and other arrangements signed, sealed, delivered and waiting for when they open their doors again. Typically, this is no problem for me. I usually work my ass off until the day before Christmas Eve, hop a ridiculously crowded flight and pay through the nose for it, and come back on New Year's Day ready to rock 'n roll.

Not this year. Since I decided to go home early, all of these deadlines need to be completed in a week. I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends so they stand up in every direction, a shout out to everything in my life causing me stress and to look like Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar when he finds out the goddamn pen is blue.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Shelly." This is the first time that the words are coming out of my mouth, and into the ears of another person. I panic at the thought, almost as if my speaking the words puts my problem into existence. It makes it seem very real and not just thoughts in my mind.

"I can see that. You're not hiding it very well." She's trying not to laugh at my expense but she's failing to succeed.

"I can use some advice once you're done laughing at me."

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to seeing you like this."

"Seeing me like what?" I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers, clamping my eyes shut, hoping that if I squeeze them hard enough, I'll be transported back in time. Back to the day before Thanksgiving, before I walked into the Swan's house and saw her standing in the kitchen, perfecting the pies that she had worked so hard on.

"Edward, since you've been home, you're either late for appointments or so on edge that you arrive an hour early. You're forgetting to call your clients back, working through lunch. It's not like you." She crosses her arms over her chest. "You know, I filed the receipt for the flowers you sent Angela last week. And the apology note that went with them."

Fuck. I shrug, aiming for nonchalance.

"We just weren't right for each other. We had a great time together but that was all. No fireworks."

I know there are fireworks between people, sparks that ignite from nonexistent beginnings. I never really believed it until not too long ago, but immediately I knew. I felt it. I knew in that moment that I felt something strong, something I had never felt with a single soul in the thirty years I walked the earth. All I knew was that once I felt it, I needed it again. I needed more. Craved it.

Apparently, I would give up a friendship of twenty five years just to feel a single firework from her again.

"Ok, Romeo. Spill it."

So I do.

xxxx

Aiming to have this completed by New Year's, fingers crossed! I do have two little boys running around here somewhere so I can't promise a posting schedule but as always, I will try.