Right Where I Want to Be Chapter 30

You're stubborn as they come, you'll never settle down

You'll always be the one who doesn't stick around

You make all the rules, you're set in your ways

You gotta have your freedom, you gotta have your space

One day you'll meet the girl you swore you'd never find

Start feeling things you never felt and spending all your time

Trying to figure out how she got this hold on you

And when you start to fall, you'll hold onto your pride

Start building up your walls and never let her get inside

You'll push her away 'cause that's all you know how to do

And then she'll leave and you won't beg her not to go

~Garth Brooks, Ask Me How I Know

“Edward, I need you. I love you.”

The words echoed in his head, taunting him. Nobody loved him; nobody but Alice, and he’d shut her out of his life years ago. Just like the selfish prick he knew he was, he’d done the same to Bella. He’d seen it in her eyes; the ease in which she’d slipped into his life and home. She wanted to make it permanent, but there was nothing permanent in his life.

Pouring himself another scotch, he wallowed in the pain and guilt. Bella didn't know what love was, that was all. She fancied his money and looks, and the things he did to her body. Real commitment was not in the cards for either of them. He didn't deserve that type of happiness, and she didn't deserve to be tied down to a broken man.

Feeling empty inside, he stretched himself out on the couch and drank until he passed out.

He woke to the shrill ringing of the phone in his home office. Shit. The benefit to owning his own company was coming in handy, but it was still irresponsible not to show up.

He got up reluctantly and stumbled into the other room, snatching the phone up on the fourth ring, informing his personal assistant that he wouldn't be in for a few days.

He couldn't properly mourn from the office.

Feeling like torturing himself, he went to the club a few nights later. He stood in the back and watched the girls circulate, glancing at them as they were announced before going back to answering emails on his phone.

And then Cinnamon was announced, and his head snapped up. Her outfit was blue and barely there.

It wasn't her signature song, but it was fucking sexy. He watched her moves, the way she danced before utilizing the pole. She was sex personified; on and off that stage. She swiveled her hips, and he grew hard, pissing himself off. He had no business watching her or being attracted to her. He wanted to pay her for her dance, or stop her and say hello, or pay her boss for a private so he could beg for forgiveness, but he didn't do any of those things.

Days passed where he kept up his stubborn, prideful routine. Drowning in scotch, going to the club, keeping himself locked away. He was morphing into a ghost, a shell of a man, right before his own eyes.

Until Alice called.