Author's note: The interactions between Bella and Jacob were some of my favorite scenes, and I've always wished there were more. This story plays on the idea that perhaps, if there had been more, Bella would have made a different choice.

This story takes place after New Moon, shortly after Edward has first brought up to Bella the idea of marriage. She believes she's made up her mind, but her relationship with Jacob hasn't reached its zenith or breaking point yet. And until it does, she can't be sure of what her heart really wants.

Parings: Edward & Bella / Jacob & Bella

Rating: T

After New Moon

Disclaimer:
The following is based on the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. All recognizable and/or trademarked elements, including, but not limited to, characters, settings, events, plot points, dialogue, etc., are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

. . . . .

I'd lied. When he asked me if I could ever love him, I told him no.

And it was a total and complete lie.

But not because I never could love him. It's that I already do. I'm just too stubborn and scared to tell him.

I can't marry Edward. I'm in love with Jacob.

. . . . .

I was sitting next to Edward in Family and Consumer Education, cramming for next period's chemistry test. He pushed his elbow gently into my ribs and I popped up my head, pretending to pay attention as Mr. Demsky looked over at us.

"This is a major portion of your grade, so you'll want to read every page in the packet," he shuffled the pages and handed out a small clump of multi-colored packets to the front person in every row. "The weekly logs you'll need to fill out are the golden pieces of paper. The blue piece is the form you need to return to me before you leave class today. It will tell me the name of your partner, if you choose one, and a few basic facts about your new baby."

"Huh?" I looked to Edward, who had been listening to the whole speech.

"Flour sack babies," he gave me a sideways smile and took a packet from Angela, who sat in front of him, and one from the girl in front of me and set it on my desk.

"Ugggh!" I groaned and dug my palms into my eyes. Just what I needed—a ridiculous, time consuming project. This was getting stupid. "What is this supposed to teach us anyway?" I complained. "Do they really think having to carry around a flour sack for three weeks is going to keep anyone from getting pregnant? Besides, I'm trying to get into college here, not prepare to open a bakery-slash-childcare center."

Edward laughed at my grumbling and pulled out the blue sheet we had to fill out so he could follow along with Mr. Demsky's instructions.

"Now, you can pick a partner or choose to be a single parent. Either way, you'll see the duties on the back of the yellow log paper. That will make it fair no matter if you have your own baby or split it with another person."

"Can three of us share a baby?" Someone in the front row spoke up and several other students laughed, spurring him on. "I mean, maybe it's my religious belief to have two wives."

"Or two husbands," Jessica giggled and looked around for approval. The girl behind her gave her a high-five.

"Or how about two girls or two guys partnering up?" Mike added, a little too proud of himself. Edward snorted at his comment, and I shook my head. Way to play into the rumor mill, Mike.

"Ok, guys. Enough," Mr. Demsky threw up his hands. "You can either be a single parent or pick one other partner of either sex. I'm not making a social commentary here, but groups of more than two will split up the responsibilities too much for the purpose of this assignment. In any case, it's very important to pick a responsible partner, if you choose a partner. If either of you injure or lose your baby, you fail the project and that will be very bad for your final grade."

He continued with the directions while Edward and I looked over the paper we had to hand in.

"Will you share my baby, Bella Swan?" He took my hand like it was a proposal, his eyes shining with laughter.

"Um… sure. I figured that was a given," I pushed the blue paper toward him, still too annoyed to be amused.

"So, baby's sex, birth date and name," he raised his eyebrows and looked at me.

"You're leaving this up to me?" I shook my head. "How about… a boy. Birth date today to make it easy, and…" I was stumped as to a name. Edward Jacob popped into my head, but I didn't dare say it out loud. I wasn't sure Edward would approve. "Masen?"

Edward tilted his head and smiled softly, then filled in the paper with his perfect script. It was flawless, like him. I looked at the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his chin, the fullness of his bottom lip. I sighed and shut my chemistry book. I'd rather study him than compounds any day.

. . . . .

Edward knocked on the door and Charlie answered it before I could get there.

"Bella." He called me and the unenthusiasm in his voice was practically toxic.

I met him midway between the stairs and the front door. "Be nice," I warned, sternly. "I told you this was for a school project." I poked his stomach gently and shook my head. You'd think he'd forgive and forget already. It bothered me that I couldn't explain to him why Edward had left in the first place. It was all for me—he'd wanted to do what was best for me, however misguided the attempt. I knew that would endear him to Charlie, but how could I explain that without giving away the Cullens' secret?

Edward tentatively crossed the threshold, as if he expected Charlie to come back swinging. He carried a plastic grocery bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"Edward! You didn't have to do that!" I beamed and took the flowers from him, hugging him slightly sideways so I didn't crush the fragile blooms.

"I saw them by the checkout and couldn't resist. It's so dreary outside, I thought it would cheer up the kitchen. Or your room," he added quickly, catching Charlie's death-stare.

"He might put them down the garbage disposal if you leave them unattended in the kitchen…" he whispered. I giggled and shoved him playfully as I pushed past him into the kitchen and dug in a cabinet for a vase.

After arranging the flowers, I took the flour sack out of the plastic bag. "Aw, it's a boy!" I cooed sarcastically and tossed it to Edward, who caught it easily despite being turned the other direction when I launched it at him.

"Are you throwing my son?" He cradled the bag protectively and tried to look incredulous at my actions, but the whole conversation was so ridiculous that it sent me into a fit of laughter.

"I'm totally going to kill this thing," I poked at it. "I'll probably drop it on the floor and spill its little floury guts all over. You're going to fail this project because I'm an unfit mother."

Edward laughed at my threat and produced a roll of duct tape from behind his back. "That's why I brought this!"

He started the roll and had the entire flour sack carefully wrapped in an even layer of the silver tape before I could blink. "Now, if you drop it, it will be safe. Kind of our version of the Bubble Boy."

I shook my head in laughter and flopped into a chair. At least he knew what he was getting into.

We set our heavy silver creation on the table and poured over the directions. "So, one of us has to have it all times and we're supposed to alternate days and nights so we have it for equal stretches of time. And when we can't take care of it, we need to have a babysitter watch it for us." I looked up from the directions and passive-aggressively stabbed at the 'baby' with my pointer finger. "Wow. This is a little ridiculous."

I looked over at Edward. He wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was looking blankly out the window.

"Are you ok?" I set down the paper and leaned into him, bewildered by his sudden change of mood.

"Yes. This project is just making me think about our future. Well, more like your future and what you'll miss out on because of me." He didn't meet my eyes.

"What?" I was confused. "It's a flour-baby for a stupid school project."

"True, but it's also a reminder of what I can't give you. What you'll never be able to have if you decide to be with me." He looked at me now, his eyes full of sadness, his voice low.

"Edward. This is crazy. I've already decided to be with you. And I know what that means. I've chosen you over whatever other choices I could have made. Besides, if I really want a baby, I can just dress up a flour sack and dote on it." I tried to joke with him, but it seemed like everything I said was making it worse.

"No, Bella. I'm serious here." He reached for my hand, but I shook it off and pushed my chair back a bit.

"I can see that. Way too serious about something that isn't serious at all." I was a little taken aback at his shift in attitude.

"It is serious, and I wish you would acknowledge that. You've always wanted children. A family," he softened his voice even more to Charlie wouldn't hear. "I can't give you a baby now, and once you're changed, you won't ever be able to have children. With anyone. Ever. And it's not like we can just adopt. Our lifestyle, who I am—who you will be—isn't too conducive to raising foster children or adopting human babies. At some point, they're going to figure out that Mommy and Daddy aren't exactly normal. This is a permanent decision you're making; one that has permanent ramifications."

His face was stone-serious and he slammed his fist down on the table a little too hard. It rattled the vase of flowers. I heard Charlie clear his throat in the other room.

I was stunned into silence. This was getting a little out of hand. We were having an actual argument. Over a ten-pound bag of flour, no less.

. . . . .

That night, I dreamt of children. Vampire children, human children, werewolf children. Children with white skin and topaz eyes, babies with pink skin and a shock of black hair, toddlers in overalls with scuffed up knees, little girls in white dresses, boys running and laughing and tumbling in the grass. Children that looked like me and Edward together. Children that looked like me and Jake. Together.

I woke up with a start, sweating profusely and with tears running down my face.

I looked over at the duct tape-covered troublemaker in the corner of my room and threw a pillow at it before flopping over onto my side and pulling my comforter over my head. Stupid flour-sack monstrosity.

. . . . .