Author's Notes: This is my first fic for the Twilight fandom. I asked for prompts on my Livejournal and one of my friends gave me Edward, Bella's house, and a random kitchen appliance. Enjoy the resulting drabble.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, New Moon, or Eclipse or any characters associated with it.
What You'll Miss
"E – Engaged? To him?"
"Yes, Charlie," Bella responds with exasperated affection. "To Edward."
Charlie slumps into his armchair in front of the television and the only thought his shock muddled mind can relay is, "I need a beer."
Edward clears his throat and as soon as Charlie's gaze settles on his face, the thought changes to, "What I really need is a shotgun. Right. Now."
"I'm going to go to the kitchen," Edward says, not entirely surprised by the malice in Charlie's thoughts. "Does anyone want anything to drink?"
Bella levels an accusing glare at him as he backs away – if he could hear her thoughts (oh, if only!), they would probably be rather like, "You're the one who wants to marry me so badly – you get back here and explain it to him!"
Yes, that's definitely what her glare is saying. But he's already pushing against the kitchen door and Charlie has verbally requested a beer now, so she lets him go and turns to comfort her distressed father as best as she can.
Edward closes the door quietly behind him and does his best to block both Charlie's thoughts and the magnified sound of their voices to give them a truly private father/daughter conversation. Instead, he concentrates to the soothing sound of Bella's heartbeat – fast and a bit irregular currently – and walks to the ice box (fridge, his inner 21st century teenager shrieks) to find Charlie his alcohol.
Alice has already ordered the wine for the reception. Undoubtedly, Bella will throw a fit when she finds out how much it costs by the bottle, but Alice wants her to have the best for her first/last taste of alcohol.
Edward swallows the unexpected lump in his throat as he opens the fridge door and, not for the first time that day, wonders if Bella truly understands what she's giving up by staying with him.
She won't notice the little things for at least a decade, after the youngling hunger is quenched. The sweet taste of chocolate on her tongue, the refreshing qualities of a cold glass of water on a hot day, the appealing smell of home cooked pasta…Bella will never be able to gain pleasure from these again.
In a few years, she won't even remember what her wedding cake and wine had tasted like. Eventually, she'll forget what food and drink had tasted like or if there had ever been any pleasure in consuming it at all. After she changes, she'll only ever know the hunger for blood.
What Edward wouldn't give to remember what his mother's apple pie tasted like or eat Bella's food with actual enjoyment and relish. What he wouldn't give to savor the taste of their wedding cake and hunger for anything – anything at all – besides blood.
"She chose you, you fool," he thinks, leaning against the closed side of the fridge. "If she had wanted to eat cake for the rest of her life, she would've chosen the dog. She wants you and everything that comes with you. That's what marriage is, isn't?"
"For better or for worse," Edward mumbles to himself, grabbing a bottle from the second shelf and closing the fridge door.
Bella's heartbeat has calmed considerably and Charlie's thoughts indicate that he's accepted that his daughter's going to marry "that boy," however begrudgingly.
Edward walks toward the living room and thinks it's about time he accepts it too.