Disclaimer: I do not own Stephenie Meyer's Twilight.
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"Isabella Swan? I promise to love you forever – every single day of forever. Will you marry me?"
" ... Yes."
"Thank you."
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"Bella?"
"What's wrong, Alice?"
"Don't you love me?"
"Of course I do. You know that."
"Then why do I see you sneaking off to Vegas to get married without inviting me?"
"You know how I hate to make a big deal out of things. It was Edward's idea anyway."
"I don't care whose idea it was. How could you do this to me? I love you like you were my own sister."
"To me, Alice, youare my sister."
"Please, please, please! Please, Bella, please – if you really love me ... Please let me do your wedding."
"Aw, Alice! No! Don't do this to me!"
"I'll owe you for a decade."
"You'd owe me for a century!"
"Yay!"
"That's nota yes!"
"But it will be!"
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Bella
I sat on the hood of Alice's bright yellow Turbo 911 (being careful about the zipper on my sweatshirt – Alice would be furious if I scratched the car), dreading The Day. I couldn't believe that I had agreed to this. I just knew Alice would go overboard, Edward would be annoyed because I'd be annoyed, and I would still be stuck walking down the aisle, drowning in lace, fancy music, and white roses instead of the desired grungy, casual, drive-through chapel in Las Vegas.
I was getting married – ugh.
Of course, Edward was probably secretly happy that everything would be elegant and traditional. Alice was already ecstatic – she absolutely loved parties, on any occasion, and all the planning that came with it. Esme just wanted to see Edward happy. Carlisle would want whatever Edward wanted. Rosalie would be upset, since the wedding marked some of my last moments as a human, but I didn't know if I'd ever win Rosalie over. Emmett was ... Emmett. He would be happy for us, regardless – he would think the whole thing was hilarious. And that's all I wanted. For the Cullens, Edward and Alice especially, who had done so much for me, to be happy. But still ... I vaguely twisted the delicate ring that now hung, heavy as if the glittering jewels were lead rocks, on my middle finger.
No, I wasn't getting cold feet or any other second thoughts. I knew I was going through with this, or else I wouldn't be wearing the Golden Wedding Band of Doom. I loved Edward with everything I had.
So why was I so uncertain about everything? Why did this cloud hang over my head, growing steadily blacker with every day, threatening to burst and ruin everything? All my dreams were about to come true in just two weeks. Why did I feel like there was half a hole in my chest, like part of me was ripped away?
I knew the answer to all these questions. In fact, all these questions had the same, two word answer.
Jacob Black.
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Edward
I watched Bella from behind the door of the garage, . She was playing with it again – the engagement ring I had presented her with a couple of months ago. I knew what this newly developed habit meant: she was thinking. Hard. And, more likely than not, it was about something difficult, stressful, or painful.
I longed again, with everything I had, for the ability to read her thoughts. I knew, however, that Bella would rather I stay out of her head, and I thought I could guess what she was thinking about, anyway. No matter how impossible their relationship might be, no one would be able to get that infernal werewolf out of her head. Nor did I really want them to – her friend mattered too much to her for her to forget. How strongly she would be opposed to him after she was changed, I didn't know.
Sadness and confusion were just two of the emotions I could see behind Bella's troubled brown eyes. Even without reading her thoughts, I'd had a hundred years of experience with reading faces. I knew, deep down, she was excited about the wedding, that she wanted to go through with this (otherwise she'd never have agreed to it), but also that she wasn't exactly jumping for joy about being married. She cringed whenever anyone said the word "engaged."
How much was Bella dreading the wedding, after all? Was I forcing her into it? Not just a lifetime – no, much longer than that – an eternity of hell, but the added torture of always being tied to another person?
Maybe she really would have been better off with that ... dog.
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Alice
I was happy that Bella liked the dress. Ecstatic, of course, that she understood the meaning and the horror of the words "off-the-rack". And utterly euphoric that I was her maid of honour.
But did Bella really like the dress for herself, or was she just saying that? The first words she said ... "It's beautiful. It's just right for him." Just right for him. Did she think nothing of her own preferences? It was her wedding, after all. She was the one wearing the dress.
I knew she wasn't exactly as elated as I was about the wedding. I noticed her expression when anyone talked about it. And I still saw visions of her suddenly changing her mind and eloping to Vegas with Edward. But they were always short-lived, and much less frequent than they had been a month ago. I wasn't worried. Bella would never bail on me, not this close to the event.
But lately, she seemed ... miserable. I knew she must be thinking of the werewolf, and that she occasionally planned to run away and visit La Push (since her future would periodically vanish). But ... I was a little ... scared, honestly, to talk to her. What if she finally grew frustrated with us keeping her prisoner and ran away forever? Edward would never forgive me, and I don't think I would forgive myself.
Bella was trying too hard. Trying too hard to forget Jacob, trying too hard to make everyone around her happy, and trying too hard to prevent herself from running off to the Quileute reservation. She needed to calm down, stop trying, and just ... go with the flow for awhile. I had told her, after all, that she wouldn't have to do anything except walk a (very) short distance and repeat a few words. She didn't have to worry about a thing. But she was worrying anyway. I hated to see people I loved worrying.
But what could I do about it?
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Jacob
Even two months later, I could still feel the hurt. I felt the dull, aching pain that came from the knowledge that Bella, my Bella, was going to be married to him.
"He's like a drug for you, Bella." I had told her.
Damn that cold, unfeeling, leech.
"I see that you can't live without him now. It's too late."
Damn right, it was.
"But I would have been healthier for you. Not a drug; I would have been the air, the sun."
Yes, it was too late. Too late for me to fall out of love with Bella Swan. Too late to rescue her from the grasp of those bloodsuckers, so intent on taking the human life out of her. And too late to save her from the future that she so desperately wanted. Yes, I knew she wanted it.
And it was true; I would have been her air, her sun. I would be anything she wanted. I hadn't imprinted – somehow, I could feel that. But I was still so deeply in over my head that nothing could ever stop me from tripping, head over heels, smashing my face into the pavement. She was already my air, my sun. Was she really happier with him? Although it killed me to say it, I knew she was. If only the bloodsuckers could have chosen a different town to live in ... Bella and I could have been something. We would have been something.
Damn those bloodsuckers, the ones that had stolen my Bella's heart. Damn them to hell, just where they should have been a hundred years ago.
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A.N: Please, please, please, (if you really love me!) R&R!