A/N: Disclaimer: I still don't own Twilight. I just like to write fanfiction for fun. Please don't sue me...

Hey, everyone! I'm back. I promised this ages ago, but, between moving and other fun stuff, I haven't really had the time I wanted to revamp it! But, here's your prologue! Reviews still get you quotes from the next chapter. This one is going to follow the basic plot of the original, but, it won't be the same story, so, it is perfect for new and old readers alike!

Thank you guys! Without you, this wouldn't have been possible!

Prologue

There are very few things in life that I believe you should regret. Getting drunk and married to a stranger in Vegas, accidentally hitting a bunny running across the road, eating Chinese take-out after midnight...

As I said: very few things.

But, I think I have just found the ultimate, nay, the pinnacle, of things to feel ashamed of in your life.

A drunken agreement to get a man married in 30 days.

That's right. I, Bella Swan, somehow decided that I was on some plane higher than God and I could make a man get married within 30 days.

I wish I could simply say that I was drunk...but, I'm honestly believing that there is no excuse for this idiocy.

It was my own doing. It was all my fault...

I am simply an immature idiot who thought that, while drunk, giddy, and trying not to end up in bed with him myself, I told Edward Masen-Cullen that I could have him married within 30 days.

I'm also now ninety-nine percent sure that my first clue that I should have run far away from this situation is that his girlfriend dumped him by tearing out half of the keys and the strings in his twenty-thousand dollar piano.

As a relationship therapist, I can honestly attest to the amount of anger it would take anyone to be able to do that kind of damage...to anything. After all, when you're angry at a man, you go after his most prized possession. And, if I remember anything from when I was a kid, Edward loved his music more than anything.

I stare into my glass of whiskey and coke. I am an idiot.

My bartender, Zaffrina, passes me another drink. "Looks like you're gonna need this one, honey," says the tall, dark amazon. For a moment, I think that she is psychic...then, I hear the ever smooth, ever charming voice next to me and I realize that she is not omnicent, simply a bar tender...who has honed observation through her years of training at the hands of drunken patrons.

Oh, if only she knew how much I was actually going to need this drink.

"Well, that could have gone better."

I am not always the sharpest crayon in the box. I claim to be based on some ego that my psychology course tell me must have been developed in childhood...but, if I'm honest with myself...I am adult...then, no. I have no clue what I'm doing. I just give people advice on their relationships based on what some book I've read tells me. My profession, though it has made me quite wealthy, if no better than guesswork.

Which could be why I'm drinking in the deserted dive bar down the street from my office on a rainy Seattle weeknight.

I am single and lonely and all I do is give other failing couples advice on how to make their relationship work. It's nearly hypocritical! I tell everyone else how to make themselves happy and I am single and drinking alone only a couple weeks before my 30th birthday.

Seemingly, my best friends didn't realize how huge of a landmark it was for me to turn 30. To me, this was a big deal. Both of my best friends had succeeded in life! My best (female) friend is engaged and my other best friend...well, he has been trying to get in my pants since we were teens...though, he did manage one of the most successful car repairs in the state of Washington. I'm just giving terrible advice that may or may not work while couples come into my office to yell at each other.

They'd both invited my out to do something tonight and I had shot them down. Jake wanted to take me out to dinner, which he would consider a date. I wasn't falling for that one again. Alice wanted me to go to dinner, too...but, with her fiance Jasper in tow.

I suppose that the least of two evils would have been to take Alice's invitation and join her and Jasper for dinner tonight...but, I hated being the third wheel. And, knowing Alice, she was trying to set me up with one of Jasper's friends who had also been dragged to dinner under the pretense that some pretty girl was going to be there. In reality, when they met me, short, curvy, and on the nerd spectrum somewhere between "my favorite subject is crime dramas" and "do you read Psychology Today?"

I sighed and took another drink. Ah, well. You can't beat a good cocktail.

Someone slid onto the bar stool next to me. I ignored them. It wasn't my problem to deal with. Two lonely souls can sit next to each other at the bar and not speak. It was how it should work.

Unfortunately...this is America and people have no social boundaries.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here looking so lonely?"

I barely paid the voice any attention. I could have done several things. I could have been snarky. I could have even flirted back. Instead, I realized how exhausted I was and simply sighed. "Look, I've had a really long day and I would just like to be left alone." I didn't make eye contact, I just simply sipped my drink.

I guess I must send out pretty mixed signals.

"Well, baby, they tell me I'm a good listener if you want to talk about it." Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him wave the bartender over. "Another one for the lady here, on me."

I feel myself sneer. "I just told you I wanted to be left alone. What part of that are you not understanding?" I try to keep myself calm. I'm pretty sure that if I make it a big deal, he'll only persist or just cuss me out. And, I don't feel like fighting with anyone. I'm five foot four. I have mousy brown hair and wide, brown doe eyes. I can't imagine why anyone would want to talk to me unless they were as desperate for a lay as I was...

...And Lord knows I don't need that in my life...

I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder. Just as I am about to wrench the arm from its socket and bite this all too brazen barfly, I hear a remotely familiar voice...like something out of a dream or a memory that I just can't quite place. "Is he bothering you, babe?"

I look up, my eyes probably the size of golf balls, and I see something absolutely frightening.

Six foot something, sparkling emerald eyes, broad shoulders, messy copper hair...Someone give me another drink because I'm pretty sure that I am one step from drinking myself under the table. He has to be an illusion. Why else would some amazing, god-like creature have an arm wrapped around my shoulder and want anything to do with me?

I stumble for only a moment. "N-no, babe. He was...he was just leaving." And, to my surprise, the man who seemingly had no knowledge of the English language walked away, thanks to a very sweet man's-man...

Ah, if only I had been born with the right set of parts...

As soon as my creeper left, Zeus withdrew his arm and sat on the bar stool next to me. Well, actually, he slumped onto the bar stool next to me, as if he was so jaded that the amount of effort it took to sit on a simple chair was just too much. He waved the bartender over, who apparently had some sort of respect for him, because he left the cocktail he was making, and barked, "Scotch on the rocks." It appeared before him almost immediately.

Whatever this power was, I would love to possess it.

He took a drink and then turned to me. "Never expected to see baby Bella in a dive bar," he mutters to me.

I feel my face twitch. "E-excuse me?" Did I hear him correctly? Was he even talking to me?

Did he have a subscription to Psychology Today and was he single?

He glanced over at me and something about my expression must have been quite amusing because he laughed. A nice, kind laugh that seemed to come from a genuine place. "What? Miss Know-it-all doesn't recognize me? Oh, come on, Bella! I'm almost insulted." He took another drink of the scotch before raising it in my direction and taking a large amount of effort to swallow it. "If it hadn't been almost ten years since I had seen you, I would have to be insulted. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time, though," he says, putting the empty glass on the counter...sorry, bar.

In my shock, I look him over once again. He's wearing expensive clothes. That tells me nothing. His shoes are a nondescript black tennis shoe. If not for the logo, I wouldn't know they were custom made. His jeans are aged, but, purposely so. He shops at one of the stores that makes you pay somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred dollars for a pair of jeans that's just going to wear out in three months. The leather jacket over the button up shirt probably cost as much as my entire outfit. All this was leading me to was that he was attractive and dressed nicely.

And, he must be from Forks. Ten years ago would have been the last time I had dared to come home for vacation from the University for more than a couple days. Did I go to high school with him? I blink rapidly. Messy copper hair, stunning green eyes...cheekbones that could cut glass.

"...Dear Jesus! Edward?" Edward Masen-Cullen, my best friend's much older brother, and I hadn't seen each other since I was an awkward teenager. Last time I saw him, he was about to graduate from med school with some specialty degree in surgery and I was a sophomore at the University of Washington with his sister. The last time I saw him was actually at his graduation party. He had always been attractive and, yes, I'll admit, I have always had a schoolgirl's crush on him. But, to run into him here? That was uncanny, to say the least.

He laughs at me, again. He must be drunk. I find that I am hardly that humorous. "Very good job, Bella Swan. You always were bright, though, weren't you?" He gets another scotch from the bar tender. How many had he had while I wasn't paying attention?

I chew on my lip while I try to think of what else to say to break the silence. I grip onto my glass with both hands, semi-nervous. I was supposed to be an adult now and his very presence still made my heart jump and twirl in my chest. "So..." I swirl a little bit of the liquid left in my glass around. "Come here often?" I wish I could kick myself for how ridiculous that sounded once it left my lips. Too late now, though. Just have to stick with it.

He looks at me sideways. "Only when a broken heart strikes," he laments. I feel my face twist. "Before you say anything, it's probably for the better. We've been together ten years and she doesn't want to get married. What's a guy going to do?"

Oh. Drowning out pain. I try to push my psychologist self aside. "I'm...that's...wow..." He's definitely trying to cope by telling me about this. I should just go with it. Honestly...I have no idea who his girlfriend is, was, or will be. I was too wrapped up in how sexy he looked to care about this week's blonde on his arm. "Ten years is a really long time..." I try to think of how else to lay it out for him without having to just be that supportive, "there are other fish in the sea" voice.

If I were honest, I would just say this: After ten years, there were no other fish in the sea. You're ruined. You are trained. You will need a massive amount of reconditioning to get to even know what parts of you are you and what parts of you are your partner. Ten years was a freakishly long period of time for people to be together without even discussing marriage.

Of course, it was also less costly and divorce attorneys would have you believe that it is an unpopular opinion and you should get married so in ten years you can pay to remodel their new house in the DC suburbs.

Edward nods to my comment. "You say that as if I hadn't been there all ten years."

I purse my lips. I was probably the worst person to deal with a breakup. As a relationship therapist, you would think I am good at this. But, no. My last two relationships I ended by text message. That's right: text message. The mature, adult way to let people down gently.

Dear God. Why did I even have a job?

I pull my jacket tighter around me and look up at him through my lashes. "Listen...if you just need a friend tonight..."

I hope my face is imploring him to finish my sentences as much as I want it to.

I see him smile, that cliché crooked smile that you hear about in romance novels. "I would like that, Bella," he finishes the thought for me.

The bartender comes over to us as we exchange a friendly smile. "Anything else I can get for you guys?"

I should have never let the depressed drunk order shots...

Half an hour later, we are completely trashed. I learned that Alice had tried to rope him into going to dinner tonight, as well. So, I was supposed to be his rebound girl. Well, too bad, Alice! Not in a million years!

We had become so trashed that we were now putting down his ex-girlfriend with the stereotypical insults I am pretty sure that everyone in the bar had heard a million times before. I giggle as I try not to spill my drink on myself. I finally put it down on the table in front of us. There's no way I'm drinking home tonight.

"Tanya was probably fat and ugly, anyway!" I whine, snickering as if what I have said was the funniest joke ever.

Edward shakes his head, laughing. I suspect, at me. "No, no, no. Tanya was a model before we met. High class fashion shoots in Paris and stuff. She quit when we moved in together. Must be nice to live with a surgeon, huh?" He's still drinking. But, my room is spinning.

How the hell was I getting home?

"So, why'd you just now decide you wanted to marry her?" I am generally curious. The worst he can do is not tell me.

"It seemed like it was about time. But, she dumped me. Can you believe that? What kind of woman would dump you while you're on bent knee in front of them with the biggest diamond they've probably ever seen?"

I wave a hand, dismissive. "I bet I could get you all married up in a month," I say, though I'm not sure what possessed me to say this... "You're handsome and smart and handsome...who wouldn't want to marry you?"

And, I'll be honest...after that, I don't remember much, except a blacked out, fuzzy haze.

The next morning, I woke up to a text message from a number I didn't know...

I doubt you're feeling breakfast this morning, Bella, so, how about we start my "husband-training" tomorrow. And, don't forget, you signed a contract. -Edward.

What in God's name have I done?

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