Summary: With each addition to the Cullen family, Edward cannot stop his life from changing. Here are his thoughts each time, ending with Bella's change.

Author's note: At the beginning, Edward may seem more selfish than we're used to. I like to think he's matured over the decades. For humans, the addition of an unwanted family member can be traumatic, and we're not immortal and unchanging.

I heard Carlisle's mind working frantically on the other side of the room. He was repeating the changing process over and over in his mind, assuring himself he hadn't missed something important. When he finished that, he began trying to rationalize this mess.

This Esme woman.

I sighed loudly, hoping to bring his attention to me. Subtly, of course.

"Alright, tell me what you're thinking," Carlisle finally said.

"That nothing good is going to come of this."

It was Carlisle's turn to sigh. She was going to die, Edward. Just like you were.

"Except she had chosen to die. She threw herself off that cliff. She didn't just trip," I seethed. I felt as if my limbs would pop off my body from the force of my anger.

When Carlisle had come slamming into our bachelor quarters in Ashland, Wisconsin, earlier that night, I had been shocked at first. His eyes were more wild than I had ever seen as he laid that broken human woman on our sofa. He had ordered me to make sure he stopped drinking, putting his trust in me to make him pull away, even though my eyes were black and my nostrils flared from the scent of her blood. I was the one who needed restrained. But of course humored him.

For a short second I thought Carlisle's control had finally broken, that he had finally killed a human, until I saw his memories of her lying in the morgue, presumed dead with no one to mourn her.

And that he had met her before. And noticed her.

I narrowed my eyes at my mentor, wishing he would think a little bit more so I could figure this out. Was he up to something? Could this be more than just a coincidence?

I assure you I did not plan this, Edward.

Carlisle had bitten her, just as he had me, only adding her wrists into the mix, hoping to speed up the change.

So now we waited.

This woman was probably pretty before she threw herself into a freefall off a cliff. Her hair was a lovely caramel, warm and soft-looking. She had a mouth that was slightly tilted in a smile in the temporary unconsciousness that took place between the bouts of liquid fire that coursed through her body. She looked kind.

But she looked so broken. Could venom really heal this?

Her legs were twisted at odd angles, and her tibia actually punctured the skin of her left leg. And that wasn't even the worst of it. A stick went in one side of one bicep and out the other.

"Did anyone see you?" I questioned. I could easily envision the townspeople of Ashland gathering their torches and pitchforks, raising a mob, and storming the door of the pale doctor who stole a mangled body from the morgue for nefarious purposes. Pitchforks were plentiful in dairy country, with testosterone-filled war veterans looking for someone to shoot being the only thing more common around here. Carlisle does look a little German with his blonde hair.

There aren't exactly guards watching the morgue night and day.

"Of course. What about on the way over here?" Our existence in the small town was so calm and peaceful. I liked the change of a small town.

I stayed in the shadows. I was careful, Edward. I wouldn't jeopardize us.

"What will we do with her?" What would she be? Gentlemen didn't just live with a lady. It wasn't proper. We couldn't have the same conversations or go to the same establishments. We would have to dress better around the house. Women didn't like socks with holes in the toes or shirts with missing buttons.

We would have to change our lives for her.

Is she wants to stay with us, she'll stay. If she wants to go on her own, we'll teach her as best as we can, and then let her go.

"Will we keep her here?"

For now. We'll see how uncontrolled she is when she's finished.

I remembered well my own days of being a newborn, because at the tender age of three, they were barely behind me. I still didn't have enough control to go to school, but Carlisle said I was going to begin the next time we moved, and now that was suddenly sooner than I had ever dreamed. I could only be around humans if I focused on their thoughts of their lives, remembering they all had someone who would miss them. It was those sad few who had no one who tempted me the most. Those kindred spirits.

So we'd be moving if she was as wild as me. Again. For this woman. Wonderful.

The three days we spent waiting on this woman to finish changing were long ones. We were both eager and anxious at the same time, curious to see how she turned out but nervous of how she could react. Carlisle and I didn't talk much as we sat there, looking at her, observing the gradual changes. I was irritated with him. I thought we were partners in this. Friends. Family. A family doesn't make a big decision like adding a new one without talking to everyone.

He had brought this woman into our lives, putting us at risk. And it was beginning to look like maybe he...felt something for her. What about me? What about Edward? Was I just being replaced by this woman?

Even though I detested what she was doing to my life, what she had the potential to do it, when her change was over, she opened her eyes, and a little part of me fell in love. She was the first female vampire I had ever seen, and she was so extraordinarily beautiful. I had never seen a creature so lovely, and if I had still been human, I'm sure I would have fallen to my knees in front of her. And she looked so scared as Carlisle's soothing voice explained what happened to her, who we were. She seemed accepting of it all, and I thought maybe her change went better than mine

Her first hunt was awkward, but we all got through it.

Just as we got through the next weeks, the next months. It was almost a year before Esme was calm enough to sit on the sofa and converse or read a novel. We moved north, to Canada, and found a cabin in the woods where we could help Esme adapt to her new life. It was easier to have her far away from humans at first. Carlisle and I both spent an inordinate amount of time restraining from her from their scent miles away. For those first months, I didn't get to know the real Esme. She was just a major inconvenience in my life. I spent half my time on top of her, trying to stop her from shredding our sofa or ripping the walls down.

And then, finally, would could bring her closer to civilization without her eyes turning black, without a growl ripping from her chest, and I was relieved. I hated the sound of her growls; they made me remember what animals we were. Carlisle and I both had ours under control, but she was still so new, so natural. What we were. Maybe that's the part I hated the most about her change. She reminded me of what I truly was. I could pretend to be a civilized gentleman, but in all honesty, I was that growling, writhing animal just as much as she was.

Toward the last months of her first year, we also found she and Carlisle got on exceedingly well. Soon, he took over most of the Esme-restraining duties, and miraculously, she needed restraining less and less. He spoke to her, telling her stories of his past life, or of things we would all do in the future. She would be growling and thrashing, and he would simply grab her wrists and look into her eyes and talk to her about the most wonderful things. Soon, she would be relaxed, and instead of gripping her wrists, he would be holding her hands.

Nothing good could come of that.

Esme really came into herself at the 18-month mark. That's when she could smell humans without running toward them, when she could read and write, when she began being an active part in our plans. It was the first time her thoughts were actually worth listening to, and not just a constant whining for blood. I was getting so tired of that.

That was also when she turned her attentions to our cabin and to me.

I had been existing under the assumption there was no need to monitor Carlisle's and Esme's thoughts. Everybody deserved at least the privacy of their minds since none could be found in the auditory sense because of our hearing. I was so wrong. One day, I came home from exploring the woods only to find throw pillows and area rugs and drapes in our cabin. My jacket and hat were hung on a peg next to Carlisle's. My shoes were no longer tossed about the main room.

"Edward! Don't forget to wipe your feet," Esme called as she floated around, putting up knick-knacks and other feminine fripperies. I hope he doesn't mind that I gathered some of his torn clothes to mend. It's such a shame to waste things with just little tears.

"You gathered my things from my room?" I asked quietly, and she immediately jumped from the surprise of my response to her thoughts rather than words. Of course she knew I could, she just didn't know that I would.

"I wasn't sure when you would get home, and just wanted to get started," she answered.

"We're immortal, Esme. I'm in no hurry."

When she looked down, I felt a little remorse for snapping at her. It was all so obvious in her mind. She just wanted to love someone, and this was her way of loving me. More accurately, she wanted to mother something, and since her only thoughts of Carlisle were increasingly lurid, it was her plan to make me the subject of her babying.

I was going to have none of that.

My iron will was soon bent by the two of them. It was pathetic, really. I just let her. My human mother had raised me to be a gentleman, and there was to much of that remaining in me to push away all her attempts. So my clothes became repaired and new ones began appearing. She bought me books and music and found things for my room.

And it was made all the worse by their minds. Now that I had searched for hers that one time, it seemed impossible to turn it off, no matter how I tried. And I tried so hard. One of my goals for my eternity would be to turn this off. Somehow.

It was at 24 months that Carlisle and Esme kissed for the first time. I had never felt more like a voyeur, but their thoughts were screaming so loudly. Not at me, of course, but just in general. I couldn't ignore them, so I ran from the house. I stayed away for a few days, to give them time.

Suddenly, I had the urge to take trips on my own when I had never wanted to be on my own before. Truthfully, the idea scared me more than a little.

At 30 months, they married. She was beautiful and he was handsome, just as all brides and groom are. I was the only one there to witness the ceremony, and it was official: they were paired up but I was the third wheel. Alone.

And instead of Carlisle's dead wife's little brother, I became Carlisle's wife's brother. Our family had changed, and I couldn't tell Carlisle that nothing good would come of this anymore, because the change for both of them was distinctly for the better.

But I did hear those words from Esme whispered to Carlisle, after she had been a vampire for 72 months, when I walked out the door on my own to broaden my palate to the greatest cuisine of all: humans.