Rosalie Hale was freaking snorting. She was snorting like a barnyard pig and she was still the prettiest girl in the coffee shop, and possibly within a two mile radius, and that included the cover girl modeling agency up the street and around the corner.

I rolled my eyes at the man behind the counter who was ogling her. He was openly gay.

"Will you knock it off?" I tried not to seethe and glare with no such luck. "You are the worst best friend in history!" I told her, throwing up my arms in exasperation when she kept laughing. At least she was no longer snorting.

"I told you to take me with you…" she said smugly once she had stopped laughing, that was until she glanced down at the shiny new engagement ring on my finger and started back up again. Rosalie wasn't your typical best friend, and she certainly wasn't the type of person who I imagined would be sitting across from me when I was twenty six years old and confessing all my problems and issues in a coffee shop in Seattle. We were polar opposites in every way, she hated talking about feelings and the last time we hugged was the day my dog died two years ago, but out of all the friends I had had through the years she was the one I was closest to.

I just groaned and pulled at my hair before lightly slamming by head onto the glass table top and putting my arms over my head as I remembered how she had told me not to go alone and that I would just get myself into trouble as she rolled herself back underneath the old Buick she was fixing. I had just gotten my tax refund back and was itching to get out of the cloud covered city though, so I went anyways.

And got drunk.

And married.

And I didn't even know his first name.

"At least you know your last name," Rosalie had snickered, referring to a country song that had been playing on the radio frequently by the time I had worked up the nerve to tell her. I had irrationally feared that she would take the news badly so it took a few days after my return to work up the nerve to tell her, but she just snickered and said, "told you so," she didn't even gape at me, frankly I was a bit peeved at her lack of reaction to one of my biggest mistakes, and I told her so. She had just looked at me and asked me in a slightly condescending voice, "Bella, what happened the last time you got drunk?" I blushed but didn't say anything, so she continued, "Don't you remember? You had one too many glasses of that cheap wine at Laurens wedding and threw, yes threw" she emphasized, smirking, "yourself at the groom. Now that was a fun night!" She laughed as I blushed profusely and glared at her. "And what about the time before that?" she asked in a mockingly sweet voice, "You started singing…"

"Ok, ok!" I interrupted before she could do a recount of that night.

I peeked back up at her when she finally stopped laughing but she was still smirking at me so I put my forehead back onto the glass table top and stared through the textured glass at my distorted feet.

After a few moments of silence she sighed the sigh I swore she reserved just for me in the moments I needed her, "Bella," she said wearily, I gazed up at her in hopes that she had some good advice to offer me in my time of need, "the solution is very simple," she said as I held my breath, "become a Mormon."

She looked dead serious until she saw my eyes fill with panic.

Then she smirked and I let my head fall back onto the glass with another groan while she broke into another fit of laughter.

I was never going to tell her when she had spinach in her teeth ever again.

Not that she ever got spinach in her perfect teeth.

But still.

"Rose, please?" I begged her, not picking my head up.

"What can I say Bella? Hire a P.I, put an ad out on Craig's List 'Girl seeking man she drunkenly married on accident' I don't know". She sounded a bit distressed, which was rare for Rosalie Hale. I looked up her again and the smirk she reserved for just me was gone, she studied her perfectly manicured nails to avoid looking at me, something she did when she got emotional, no one would notice, to them she would just look bored, but we were best friends after all.

I sighed and sat up. I looked at my shiny new ring Mike had nervously pulled out of his shirt pocket the night before, the ring I had allowed him to slip onto my ring finger after he had gotten up off his knee. I had said yes of course, that's what you said when your boyfriend of two and a half years got down on his knee in an elegant restaurant and asks you to marry him.

Mike didn't know about E. Cullen. and it was entirely too late to tell him. I should have told him when we first got together a few months after it happened, but I chickened out and by the time we became a serious couple I was afraid that if I told him he would leave me.

And now he wants to marry me.

I was honestly trying to word my Craig's List ad when Rose broke me out of my thoughts.

"When is your anniversary?" she asked and I just looked at her blankly and shot her a look that said will you please give it a rest?

"Just tell me already," she sighed, looking mildly irritated.

"March first, what does it matter?"

"That's two weeks away…" she trailed off lost in thought and I folded my arms and rested my head on them so I could watch her think.

"Ok, let's say," she started, "theoretically, that Cullen is looking for you too, god he probably has his own gaited community in Texas…" I glared at her and she smirked and continued, "My point is, if he is looking for his eigth wife, and surely his hottest one," I shot her another glare, the Mormon jokes were getting old, "then he will probably try to find you on your anniversary," she finished and I just stared at her until what she was saying finally sunk in.

"No. Freakin. Way." I told her blatantly, I was not going back to that city ever again.

She sighed, "then I would suggest you convert, I hear it takes some time".

I groaned again and buried my head back into my arms.

"I'll go with you," Rose said, "I'll help you and keep you out of trouble, we'll find the guy, I personally think he deserves a good punch in the face," she told me, nonchalantly.

"Promise?" I asked her.

"What? To punch him in the face? What are best friends for?"

Ok, so Rabid Tofu is shooting for humor this time after a six month absence. Life crisis, family crisis, technical crisis, love crisis, oh well, I'm

back now. I deleted my other stories, because lets face it, they were crap.

R&R

P&L
Rabid Tofu