A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in what feels like years, but I had a loooooad of things to do. I promise I will try to post regular twice-weekly updates from now on. There, you have it in writing. Hopefully enjoy, and apologies about the shortness.


Esme

"So I was thinking..." Rose declared as we sat on the wall beside the parking lot after school had finished.

"Yeah?" I asked, hoping there was actually an end to that sentence. She had piqued my curiosity.

"Well, now that Edward and Bella are a couple, and there's me and Emmett, we should push Jasper into telling Alice how he feels."

I gasped in delighted surprise. "You noticed it too?"

Rosalie laughed, and her amazingly beautiful face was enhanced into something to rival the gods. "Es, honey, I have eyes. Everyone knows how Jazz feels about Alice."

I grinned in amusement. "It is pretty obvious."
"You don't say?" she smirked. "So, what's the plan, Cupid?"

I blinked in surprise. "Me?"

"You hooked up Edward and Bella, didn't you? And I thought it couldn't be done! Although, I do think Ed should get someone to taste his drinks before he takes a sip now, Newton is pretty murderous, I feel."

I smiled wryly. Mike Newton had been on the warpath for the past few weeks now, just throwing contemptuous glares at Bella and Edward when they were together and purposefully trying to trip my brother up in the corridor whenever he saw him. It was a little bit pathetic, to be honest.

"Well, all Jasper needs is a bit of courage," I reasoned. "Not an intervention."

"I have a bottle of tequila in my bag," Rose offered brightly. "I was meant to give it back to Emmett, but if needs must then..."

I laughed. "I meant the real kind."

"Dutch courage is as good as any," Rose argued, her eyes glinting wickedly. I shook my head wearily at her.

"Don't encourage him to get wasted, Rosalie Lillian Hale," I chided sternly. "Drinking is not the solution."

Rosalie rolled her eyes at me, clucking her tongue. "You are such a mom, Esme!"

The comparison was a sudden knife in the gut. My eyes clouded over, and for a second all I could see was his face... the perfect little nose, the big, emerald eyes, the messy toffee coloured hair the exact shade of my own... I stifled a gasp as tears burned my eyes. That was one image I wanted to keep quiet. Edward knew, of course he did. Even if I hadn't wanted to tell him, the boy can read my mind...

"I'm no mother," I whispered brokenly, my eyes cast down towards my own lap.

Rosalie gave me a strange, sideways glance, sensing my tone. "Esme? Are you alright? You look like someone just killed your cat."

I sighed. One long, despairing sigh that carried with it all the weight of an execution. With my brow creased and my lips mashed into a thin line, I worked very hard on composing and neutralising my expression. When I was sure I had it under control, I glanced up.

"I'm fine," I said in a passably convincing voice.

But I wasn't fine, and we both knew it. I would never be fine about being reminded of my one biggest heartache. My only heartache.


I stared at the little pink plus sign incredulously for another moment, tentatively adjusting my position so that my back wasn't protesting quite as much.

A soft knock on the bathroom door made me jump nearly an inch off the lid of the toilet seat.

"Esme?" Edward called. "Es, you've been in there a while... is everything okay? Are you hurting?"

I was always hurting these days, it seemed. I never got even a moment's respite. I had such an ill rapport with Amanda the Step-Monster that I, now confined to the house until I was 'well' again, had taken to hibernating in my bedroom, coming out seldom if ever.

"I..." I was in too much shock to even get my sentence out. Edward could sense that something was wrong, though. He could read me like a book. His knocking became more urgent.

"Esme! Let me in, please!" he begged in a frantic whisper to keep from alerting Amanda.

"I..." I couldn't move. I was in too much shock – all my energy was concentrated on performing simple bodily processes like breathing and keeping my heart beating.

I heard a scuffling outside the door, and Edward barged in not a second later, his eyes wide and alarmed.

I took one look at him and burst into silent yet forceful tears. His arms were instantly around me, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back as I hiccoughed into his shoulder, staining his nice blue shirt with hot, salty tears.

"Esme, don't cry," he mumbled, rocking me slowly back and forth.

"I c-c-can't help it-t," I sobbed. "M-my li-life is over."

"That can't be true," he soothed, brushing my hair out of my face. "I'll fix whatever's broken. Just tell me what's wrong."

I caught and held his gaze, my face a mask of anguish, sorrow and fear. Taking one deep, steeling breath, I brought my chin up and said the two most terrifying words I had ever uttered.

"I'm pregnant."