And then she’d said the last thing that I’d ever expected to hear from my mother.

“You’re not making my mistakes, Bella. You sound like you’re scared silly, and I’m guessing it’s because you’re afraid of me.” She’d giggled. “Of what I’m going to think. And I know I’ve said a lot of things about marriage and stupidity—and I’m not taking them back—but you need to realize that those things specifically applied to me. You’re a completely different person than I am. You make your own kinds of mistakes, and I’m sure you’ll have your share of regrets in life. But commitment was never your problem, sweetie. You have a better chance of making this work than most forty-year-olds I know.” Renée had laughed again. “My little middle-aged child. Luckily, you seem to have found another old soul.”

“You’re not… mad? You don’t think I’m making a humongous mistake?”

“Well, sure, I wish you’d wait a few more years. I mean, do I look old enough to be a mother-in-law to you? Don’t answer that. But this isn’t about me. This is about you. Are you happy?”

“I don’t know. I’m having an out-of-body experience right now.”

Renée had chuckled. “Does he make you happy, Bella?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you ever going to want anyone else?”

“No, but—”

“But what?”

“But aren’t you going to say that I sound exactly like every other infatuated teenager since the dawn of time?”

“You’ve never been a teenager, sweetie. You know what’s best for you.”

For the last few weeks, Renée had unexpectedly immersed herself in wedding plans. She’d spent hours every day on the phone with Edward’s mother, Esme—no worries about the in-laws getting along. Renée adored Esme, but then, I doubted anyone could help responding that way to my lovable almost-mother-in-law.

It let me right off the hook. Edward’s family and my family were taking care of the nuptials together without my having to do or know or think too hard about any of it.

Charlie was furious, of course, but the sweet part was that he wasn’t furious at me. Renée was the traitor. He’d counted on her to play the heavy. What could he do now, when his ultimate threat—telling Mom—had turned out to be utterly empty? He had nothing, and he knew it. So he moped around the house, muttering things about not being able to trust anyone in this world. . . .

“Dad?” I called as I pushed open the front door. “I’m home.”

“Hold on, Bells, stay right there.”

“Huh?” I asked, pausing automatically.

“Gimme a second. Ouch, you got me, Alice.”

Alice?

“Sorry, Charlie,” Alice’s trilling voice responded. “How’s that?”

“I’m bleeding on it.”

“You’re fine. Didn’t break the skin—trust me.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded, hesitating in the doorway.

“Thirty seconds, please, Bella,” Alice told me. “Your patience will be rewarded.”

“Humph,” Charlie added.

I tapped my foot, counting each beat. Before I got to thirty, Alice said, “Okay, Bella, come in!”

Moving with caution, I rounded the little corner into our living room.

“Oh,” I huffed. “Aw. Dad. Don’t you look—”

“Silly?” Charlie interrupted.

“I was thinking more like debonair.”

Charlie blushed. Alice took his elbow and tugged him around into a slow spin to showcase the pale gray tux.

“Now cut that out, Alice. I look like an idiot.”

“No one dressed by me ever looks like an idiot.”

“She’s right, Dad. You look fabulous! What’s the occasion?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s the final check on the fit. For both of you.”

I peeled my gaze off the unusually elegant Charlie for the first time and saw the dreaded white garment bag laid carefully across the sofa.

“Aaah.”

“Go to your happy place, Bella. It won’t take long.”

I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes. Keeping them shut, I stumbled my way up the stairs to my room. I stripped down to my underwear and held my arms straight out.

“You’d think I was shoving bamboo splinters under your nails,” Alice muttered to herself as she followed me in.

I paid no attention to her. I was in my happy place.

In my happy place, the whole wedding mess was over and done. Behind me. Already repressed and forgotten.

We were alone, just Edward and me. The setting was fuzzy and constantly in flux—it morphed from misty forest to cloud-covered city to arctic night—because Edward was keeping the location of our honeymoon a secret to surprise me. But I wasn’t especially concerned about the where part.

Edward and I were together, and I’d fulfilled my side of our compromise perfectly. I’d married him. That was the big one. But I’d also accepted all his outrageous gifts and was registered, however futilely, to attend Dartmouth College in the fall. Now it was his turn.

Before he turned me into a vampire—his big compromise—he had one other stipulation to make good on.

Edward had an obsessive sort of concern over the human things that I would be giving up, the experiences he didn’t want me to miss. Most of them—like the prom, for example—seemed silly to me. There was only one human experience I worried about missing. Of course it would be the one he wished I would forget completely.

Here was the thing, though. I knew a little about what I was going to be like when I wasn’t human anymore. I’d seen newborn vampires firsthand, and I’d heard all my family-to-be’s stories about those wild early days. For several years, my biggest personality trait was going to be thirsty. It would take some time before I could be me again. And even when I was in control of myself, I would never feel exactly the way I felt now.

Human… and passionately in love.

I wanted the complete experience before I traded in my warm, breakable, pheromone-riddled body for something beautiful, strong… and unknown. I wanted a real honeymoon with Edward. And, despite the danger he feared this would put me in, he’d agreed to try.

I was only vaguely aware of Alice and the slip and slide of satin over my skin. I didn’t care, for the moment, that the whole town was talking about me. I didn’t think about the spectacle I would have to star in much too soon. I didn’t worry about tripping on my train or giggling at the wrong moment or being too young or the staring audience or even the empty seat where my best friend should be.

I was with Edward in my happy place.

“I miss you already.”

“I don’t need to leave. I can stay. . . .”

“Mmm.”

It was quiet for a long moment, just the thud of my heart hammering, the broken rhythm of our ragged breathing, and the whisper of our lips moving in synchronization.

Sometimes it was so easy to forget that I was kissing a vampire. Not because he seemed ordinary or human—I could never for a second forget that I was holding someone more angel than man in my arms—but because he made it seem like nothing at all to have his lips against my lips, my face, my throat. He claimed he was long past the temptation my blood used to be for him, that the idea of losing me had cured him of any desire for it. But I knew the smell of my blood still caused him pain—still burned his throat like he was inhaling flames.

I opened my eyes and found his open, too, staring at my face. It made no sense when he looked at me that way. Like I was the prize rather than the outrageously lucky winner.

Our gazes locked for a moment; his golden eyes were so deep that I imagined I could see all the way into his soul. It seemed silly that this fact—the existence of his soul—had ever been in question, even if he was a vampire. He had the most beautiful soul, more beautiful than his brilliant mind or his incomparable face or his glorious body.

He looked back at me as if he could see my soul, too, and as if he liked what he saw.