Alice is in the middle of typing up answers for her retail merchandising homework when Edward's voice interrupts her from downstairs. "Alice, there's something here for you!"

It has to be the Manolos she ordered last week.

"Be there in two seconds!" Alice calls back. She saves her unfinished document and stands up from her desk.

A swirl of green whirls past her eyes.

Bella's walking down a flower-filled aisle in a white gown, a large, sparkling diamond ring on her finger. Lights twinkle in the surrounding trees. Benches are lined up on either side of her, filled with an attendance of people Alice mostly recognizes: Tanya, Rosalie, Emmett...

As she tries to pick out more details from the scene, it fades from view.

Bella's getting married. "Oh my god. Oh my god! Aaah!" she squeals to herself.

She recognizes the ring. She's seen it before in Edward's room. It's one from his mother's jewelry box.

Eager to find out more about what she just saw, Alice skips down the stairs. He's waiting at the front door, but she sees no delivery box.

"It's outside," Edward says before she can ask.

She laughs. "You couldn't bring it in?"

"Go look."

She opens the door and still sees nothing. "Are you messing with me?" She sighs. "Hey, I saw something that I want to ask you about."

"Sure, but you're going to have to walk out to the driveway first."

Her confusion instantly flips to excitement. She runs down the front steps without bothering to put on shoes.

A brand-new, Racing Yellow, two-seater Porsche 911 Turbo S with black leather seats and a sunroof sits parked in the center of the drive.

She screams. "Aaaaah!"

"Is that the right one?" Edward asks with a laugh.

"Yes! It's so cute!" She's so excited that she's on the verge of crying. She jumps around the perimeter of the car, unable to contain herself. "Is it mine? Can I have it? Aaaaah!"

He tosses her the keys. The fob is the same sunshine shade of yellow. "Yes, there are a few conditions, though. Do you think you could keep a watch out for Bella? And if you see any potential dangers, will you let me know right away?"

"Okay, I do that anyway, but sure!" She clicks the button, opening the doors with a beep, and climbs in. "This is even nicer than the rental!"

"And I need you to find out more about Jacob as well. I know they're friends, but I don't trust him. I feel like she might be more open about him with you than me."

"You got it!"

"I don't know if she's already told you, but I asked her to marry me the night after we got back from Italy. She said yes, but I haven't given her the ring yet."

The vision makes sense now. "That's amazing! Congratulations!"

He nods. "Thanks. We haven't set a date yet, but I was hoping you would help make sure things go smoothly. Your better-than-average intuition and ability to multitask should make anticipating and side-stepping any issues a breeze."

"You want me to be a psychic security guard?" she asks. "And a wedding planner?"

"Aside from myself, you spend the most time with her. I know you're busy, but maybe you can put some of the freelance design work on hold temporarily to make time." He gestures to the Porsche. "If you think it's too much work, I can send it back."

"No!" she protests. "I'll do it! I'm always happy to help. No problem. I'll watch for whoever or whatever! Everything will be perfect. You'll have the best wedding ever."

He smiles. "I thought you might say that. Thank you."

"No, thank you! I can't wait to drive this to class! Oh, I should go pick Jasper up from campus."

"Drive safe."

"I will!" She jumps back up out of the car and hugs him. She's too overjoyed to even complain about how he's worn the white shirt he has on three times already this week. "THANK YOU! I love it!"

...

The sound of distant conversations and nurses shuffling past the hallway grows more frequent, covering up the quiet whir and beeping of the hospital equipment. The morning is picking up. Visiting family members will start trickling in soon.

Rosalie's internship has been going well since switching over to the PICU. She's getting the hang of the daily ins and outs.

Sure, she doesn't have any friends in her new department, she didn't sleep last night, and one of her managers always calls her Rosalyn, but she's getting there.

Her current patient, a seven-year-old boy who goes by the nickname Tater, has been relatively easy to look after, despite his frequent admittance. She jots down some notes on his clipboard and checks the boy's vitals.

"You look like the lady in Sleeping Beauty," Tater says sleepily, sitting up in his bed.

"Princess Aurora?" Rosalie asks with a smile. She walks to the far side of the room to open the curtains on the window now that he's awake for the day.

"Is she the one with horns who turns into a dragon?"

She rolls her eyes. Somehow she's always put with the irritating children rather than the cute ones.

"That's Maleficent," she replies, a spoonful of fake pleasantness in her voice. "Good morning to you too."

"Yeah, that one. You look kinda mean, but so does my mom, and she's pretty alright."

"Well, if your test results are good, you'll get to go home and see her tomorrow." And Rosalie won't have to put up with his obnoxious questions about Antarctica not having ants. Or hamburgers not having ham when cheeseburgers have cheese.

"Will you get to go home too, or do they keep you here forever?" he asks.

"I'll probably still be here if you ever come back."

"Do you have a phone?"

"No."

"Yes, you do. I saw it yesterday. Can I watch Minecraft videos on it?"

"No, sorry," she answers, grabbing the TV remote off the console table and turning it on. "Your options are Spiderman or Peppa Pig."

"Those shows suck."

She glances down at her watch and changes the channel again. "What about the local news?"

The weekly forecast plays on the TV. There will be sun through most of the week with scattered showers on the weekend. The bottom of the screen highlights a story about university dorm break-ins and an investigation into potential drug trafficking in one of the nearby high schools. Not exactly the best programing for a grade-schooler.

Tater crosses his arms. "Spiderman is fine."

"Great. I'll go get some breakfast for you. Be right back." She leaves the room quickly before he can start demanding tater tots. He's going to be eating oatmeal again like he always does.

She freezes when she's back out in the hallway. She didn't expect to be walking into her own personal hell.

The highly overplayed tune of Bruno Mars' "Marry You" plays while flowers and balloons litter the nurse's station. Several of her coworkers stand around hollering and crying. An attending physician is proposing to one of the nursing assistants.

Rosalie grumbles to herself as she remembers that her phone is over there. She goes without it to the elevator, heading down to the cafeteria as quickly as she can.

There are scones today. She grabs one and slumps into a chair.

She can't help but think that proposing to your significant other in your shared place of work is beyond tacky. It's attention-seeking at best and lacks effort or planning at worst.

When Royce popped the question to her, it was at a nice downtown restaurant with a three-month waitlist. She was warned ahead of time by her mother to have her nails done, her highlights touched up, and her makeup immaculately applied because photos would be taken. There wasn't much surprise involved, but it was more picturesque than how she ever envisioned it happening.

There wasn't a prettier, happier, or luckier girl in the entire city that night, she was certain. Now she's certain that she was beyond stupid for thinking that.

It's still hard to imagine how so much joy turned into so much pain.

Carlisle comes around the side of the table with a cup of coffee. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead," Rosalie replies distractedly, her head in a fog.

"Someone brought their sick cat in thinking we had veterinarians here," he says. "Long story short, there are kittens in the waiting room."

"Again?

"Again. If you want one, you'd better go quick. The owner's taking down numbers to call once they're ready to go home."

"I'm not a cat person." She stabs at her scone with a fork, crumbling it into pieces. "I should get back to work. There's a kid who needs oatmeal. I'll see you around."

"Right. Okay, see you," he says to her back as she abruptly retreats from the cafeteria.

...

"The weather's nice, so I thought it would be a good time to go out to the meadow for a while to talk," Edward says, leading Bella from the Arboretum parking lot to the trailhead. He clasps her hand in his. "The magnolias and rhododendrons are in bloom."

"The sun feels good." She tilts her face up toward the sky, her long, brunette hair falling back as she does so. "What are we talking about?"

"The night after we got back home, we discussed something. I was wondering how you're feeling about it now that you've had some time to think."

"Oh," she says, her voice higher than normal. "The...getting married thing?"

"Yes." He nods. "It doesn't have to be a big production. We can keep it small."

"Okay. Small is good. I can handle small. I don't know how I'm going to tell my mom. Or Charlie. If we don't say anything, they'll be pretty upset. But if we do, everyone back home will gossip about it for weeks..."

"Do you want to elope and tell them after?" he asks with a grin.

"Alice would never forgive me if I didn't at least have her help with a...a...dress."

Of course, she's concerned about everyone else but herself. She isn't wrong, but they're not the ones getting married.

"A small gathering then. A few friends and your parents?" he suggests. "When do you think sounds good?"

"Maybe seven years. Then we can tell them after I graduate and have an established career..."

He laughs. "I was under the impression you didn't want to wait."

She blinks. "You mean you want to wait until the literal wedding night to sleep with me," she says, her expression indecipherable. "What's the difference if it's before or after if we're going to be married anyway? I feel like I'm over here scheming to steal away your virtue."

He runs his thumb along hers as he continues to hold her hand. "My concern isn't about protecting my virtue. It's about doing things properly and respecting yours, Silly."

"Should I tell my dad to find some cows and sheep to send over as my dowry? We're kind of short on gold bars, but he might be able to scrounge up some collectible baseball cards," she quips sarcastically.

Edward sighs. "You might be right, and it doesn't matter, but—as desperately as I want you—it would feel wrong. I can't help that I was raised very traditionally."

"You think we'll be damned to hell for all of eternity."

"I don't know," he admits. "It doesn't hurt to wait a little longer, just in case. And, honestly, I think I need some more time to mentally prepare."

The idea makes him incredibly nervous. He doesn't want to disappoint her or do something stupid.

"Okay, so that changes things. Is two months enough time?" she asks. "June?"

"How about August?" he suggests instead. "So I can finish the bar exam and interviews. We'll still have plenty of time to take a vacation before you're back in classes and I start work."

"We can't have you studying on the honeymoon, I suppose," she teases. "My apartment lease is up at the end of June, though. We signed with a nine-month student deal since I was originally planning on going home for the summer."

"I'll talk with Carlisle. I'm sure you can stay at the house if that's fine with you. We can start looking for an apartment in July, maybe?"

"That's sounds okay to me."

"Or a house?" he tries. He doubts she'll take him up on anything too grand, but it's worth a shot.

She chews her lip. "No. No, not a house. An apartment is okay."

They reach the clearing, and the floral hedges are all in bloom, making for a spectacular backdrop. Edward called ahead and talked with one of the gardeners earlier in the week to make sure everything would be perfect for this afternoon.

"I have something for you," Edward says, circling around to face her.

He's been waiting so long for this moment.

Her brows scrunch up anxiously. "Please tell me it isn't a ring."

"It's a ring." He gets the small, black box from his pocket and holds it out in his palm for her. "Do you want to see it?"

"No!"

His face drops. He hopes his ears aren't going red because they feel like they are. "Okay, sure, it can wait."

"I mean, yes. I want to see it," she backtracks, changing her answer.

He doesn't want to put her out if it's going to be ill-received. "No, it's oka—"

"Show me the ring, Edward!"

He looks at her with a frown. He isn't sure what she wants, and she's as difficult as ever to read. He wishes he could get even a tiny glimpse into what she's thinking.

She leans closer, her expression softening. She bats her eyes up at him. "Please? Will you show me?"

Edward's heart leaps in his chest. He hands her the box, his stomach full of butterflies. "Here."

"It wasn't crazy expensive was it?"

"No, I already had it. It was my mother's."

Bella opens the box. "Oh..."

He thinks it's a beautiful ring, but it might not be her taste. "If you don't like it, we can go downtown and find something else at Tiffany's. Gold settings aren't as popular these days."

"No, it's pretty. It's...wow..." she murmurs.

He takes it out of the box to put it on her, and she pulls her hand away sharply as if she touched a hot stove.

"You know, my parents married and divorced before they were even twenty-five," she says. "My mom's parents didn't stay together long either."

"My parents married around our age and stayed together until they passed a few years ago," Edward replies, hoping to ease her worry. "You can take it off right after. I just want to see if it needs resizing."

He holds out his hand for her, and she takes it with visible reluctance. The delicate gold band slides onto her ring finger easily. A perfect fit.

The carefully cut facets catch the soft spring sunlight, making the large, oval-shaped diamond and its double halo of smaller stones sparkle brilliantly.

She looks up at him and back down at the ring. "How does it look?"

He realizes he's been holding his breath and exhales. "Beautiful. It suits you."

He leans down and kisses her. Seeing it on her, knowing she'll be his wife in a few short months, is overwhelmingly exciting.

Her breathing is rough when they break away. "You like it that much, huh?"

"You have no idea." He smiles. "Can I try something?"

"Go ahead."

He gets down on one knee. "Isabella Marie Swan, I—"

"No, no, no, please don't. Anything but that," she protests, covering her face and turning away. "This is so embarrassing."

He laughs. "I promise that I'll love you forever. There isn't—and there never will be—anyone I love more in the entire universe. Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

He stands again and brings her hand up to kiss it before kissing her on the lips once more. He can't imagine ever having a more perfect fiancée.

...

Rosalie parks on the street behind Emmett's Jeep and texts him to let him know that she's out front.

It's a little after nine at night, and the air has a chill to it. The absence of rain should be a welcome reprieve after the several months of gloom, but somehow it only makes her feel more exposed. She wishes she had a watery cloak to hide in.

It takes him several minutes to open the door for her, but when he does, he's all smiles.

"Hey, Babe," he says, stepping aside to let her in. "I thought you were gonna sleep early."

He's right. She has another 6 am shift in the morning. Normally she would be in her pajamas and in bed at this time.

"I was, but I couldn't sleep," she says, taking off her jacket and hanging it up in the entry closet. She looks around the empty living room. "Is it normally this quiet? Four other people live here..."

"Esme's upstairs painting or something. And I think Edward and Alice are done fighting because she posted that he got her a new Porsche earlier."

"He bought her a Porsche?!"

"Yeah, he's weirdly generous and happy right now because of the engagement."

Rosalie's brows furrow. "What engagement?"

"Oh, yeah, so he proposed to Bella and she said yes. They haven't seen each other in months, though, so who knows how that'll go down."

"What?" Rosalie recoils. "Is she pregnant? Or does she just want his money? They haven't even been dating that long."

It's not fair.

"Nah, he's a mega virgin and she's weird about money."

"Whatever, I don't like it. That's not enough time to get to know someone—and I would know. Plus he's an ass. I don't like him," she complains heatedly.

"Yeah, he can be high-maintenance and pushy, but he's usually super nice and fun to be around," Emmett replies, defending his friend. "When he's not being insane and marrying his first and only girlfriend...right after fleeing the country...and trying to jump off a building...that is."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

She kicks off her sneakers and follows Emmett over to the couch. He turns on the TV and flips through a few channels before giving up and handing her the remote.

He tries to put his arm around her shoulders and she shrugs it off, tossing the remote back over to him.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I'm annoyed. It makes no sense. They can't even legally drink. What are they gonna do? Hand out juice boxes at their wedding?"

"Yeah, he said they don't know when they'll set the date for, but maybe it won't be for a while."

"Regardless, I'm sure there'll be some huge dramatic ordeal involved like always. They're so self-entitled."

He grabs her hand. "You'll be my date though, right?"

"Maybe. We'll see."

"She might trip going down the aisle, you never know. It could be funny."

While it would be really funny to see how awful it turns out, the second-hand embarrassment would be too much to bear. No one deserves to have their special day ruined. Weddings are supposed to be beautiful, magical things that you cherish forever.

Her head hurts. She can't help thinking over everything that she did wrong.

Emmett reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with his free hand. "I know you're super fucking pissed off because people are the absolute worst, but do you want to try to get some sleep?"

"I guess."

"We can cuddle and I'll whisper nice things like 'that's a sweet balayage, Rosalie' and 'I have no idea what scent you're wearing right now, but it's really nice.'"

"It's vanilla, spiced wood, and rose."

"Yeah, I'm a big fan." He stands and reaches out his hands for her. "Okay, let's go!"

She takes them and lets him pull her up off the sofa. If she doesn't sleep soon, she's going to be a wreck tomorrow morning.

It just hurts too much to see everyone around her happily moving forward and getting the things she's always wanted.