RIta's Point Of View
The silence on the other end of the line hung heavy, the kind of weighted quiet that usually precedes a hurricane or a massive insurance claim. I could practically hear the gears turning in Edward's head… those expensive, well-oiled mechanisms that only ever moved when he stood to gain something.
Each second of his hesitation felt calculated, deliberate, as though he were mentally tallying the cost of every word before he spoke it. I knew this dance. We'd performed it countless times before, and I'd always been the one left without a chair when the music stopped.
"Wait, Rita..." Edward finally spoke, his voice adopting that smooth, conciliatory tone that always made me want to check my pockets for my wallet. "I know you're hurt. Believe me, I understand."
