Snuggled up with Edward in his bed was exactly where I wanted to be on my birthday, and I had no intention of leaving it to answer my cell.

'I'm ignoring it,' I said flatly.

The ringtone stopped. A few seconds later, it started up again.

Edward's face was troubled. 'When you ignored her before, she was so angry she broke your phone.'

'You think I don't remember that?' I was already moving to retrieve my phone from my coat pocket. Firmly, I switched it off. 'She thinks I'm volunteering at the library. She'll remember I can't answer calls there, when I don't answer.'

He was looking at me watchfully. 'What d'you reckon she wants though?'

'To wish me a happy birthday, probably,' I said. 'I left before she was up. She can tell me that when I get home later. Come on, don't look so miserable on my birthday.' I bounced onto his bed. 'What are we doing next?'

'Holiday market!'

It took some time for us to tear ourselves out of his bed. But eventually I was washed and fully dressed. As Edward took a shower I used my fingers to pull my hair into a high ponytail - messier than usual, but still covering the scar on my scalp. When he returned from the bathroom, hopping as he put a sock on, I offered quietly to help him clear all our breakfast things to the kitchen.

'I'll do it later,' he said, shrugging.

I was instantly relieved. On the occasions I'd made friends at school, through the years, meeting their parents was always the height of awkwardness, with no examples of healthy parent-child interactions myself. Meeting Edward's mom would be even more so, especially given what I was just doing with her son in the room above her garage.

We walked downtown hand in hand. I'd passed the European-style holiday market multiple times that month, but had never ventured into it. As we did, I realised that instead of canopied market stalls, as I'd imagined, the street was lined with tiny wooden chalets, with open fronts on which the wares were displayed and sold. Each was festooned with lights and colorful decorations.

'It really does feel quite European,' I said, then flushed. I had nothing to compare it to, and Edward definitely did. But he didn't appear to disagree.

'My favourite stall is up here,' he said, steering me towards one of the chalets, which was in a less favoured position, tucked away at the back. Intriguing smells emanated from it. The decorations it was emblazoned with were French, including a Joyeux Noel banner, and Tricolore flags. It was selling French foods - there were stacks of cheeses and chocolate and other treats that I didn't know the names of. There was also a brazier at the back, and Edward pointed at it enthusiastically.

'Chaud-marrons pour deux, s'il vous plait,' he said rapidly.

The man turned back to whatever was over the coals, then swivelled back to us, handing over a paper cone, his fingers blackened with charcoal.

'Chaud marrons?' I said. 'Hot what?'

'Chestnuts,' Edward said, his fingers moving deftly, and then his mouth full.

I copied him in taking off the charred peel, then popped it in my mouth, and bit down. A burst of salt exploded on my tongue first, and then the creamy, warm nuttiness, leaving behind a sweet after taste.

'I didn't try these until I lived in Paris,' Edward said. 'You see them everywhere there.' His voice sounded wistful. 'They're two euros, and come in a cornet fashioned from newspaper.'

I wanted to reassure him that surely he'd be back in Paris soon, but with so much up in the air, about his mom's health, I couldn't. I opened my mouth, instead, to promise him that whenever he eventually got to return, I'd go with him. But ever since my phone rang and Renee's number flashed up, I'd had an uneasy feeling, so I snapped my mouth shut, suddenly unable to promise him anything at all.

By mid-afternoon we'd browsed every stall. I hadn't let Edward buy me any of the things he'd pointed out enthusiastically, even those now on sale for the final few days of the market, but he'd bought food wherever it was on offer, and insisted on me sharing. This lead, inevitably, to needing the bathroom, and Edward wheedled me into going to the coffeehouse so we could also get a decent coffee. After getting his assurance that he wouldn't announce anything about my birthday, I agreed.

Once inside, I scurried straight for the facilities, and afterwards, drying my hands, for once I met my own eyes in the mirror, rather than avoiding looking at myself. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes sparkling - visual evidence that Edward was good for me.

Suddenly I felt full of confidence. A boy as funny and kind and nice to look at as Edward was in love with me. I pulled my phone from my pocket and switched it on, determining not to hide from whatever Renee wanted. She'd been so much better this week that it might even be something nice, I reasoned. Like wanting to know what time to expect me, so she could give me a gift or something.

One glance at the screen made my stomach sink, like it had been transformed into a huge stone. Fifteen missed calls. And a voicemail. I clicked to listen.

Her voice in the message was slurred, but I could still make out the words. 'Why are you ignoring my calls you little bitch?'

Years of having to pretend I was happy in public helped me stay smiling in front of Edward and my co-workers. I even forced out a laugh, at a non-rude joke Emmett made. After we left, I contorted my face into an expression of apology.

'What's up?' Edward asked.

'Renee left a message.' His hand interlaced with mine, I felt his muscles tense. 'There's no problem,' I added quickly. 'In fact it's actually quite sweet. She asked if I might be able to finish early in the library, so she can spend some time with me on my birthday.'

Edward raised an eyebrow. 'For real? A week ago she was screaming that she'd be kicking you out today.'

'Like I said,' I said smoothly. 'She's turned over a new leaf. Come on, Edward, walk me to the park. We can say goodbye there.'