Even before the child, after that weekend, it was clear the seeds of Alice's prophecy had been sown.
Because for the next two weeks, as the wedding steadily approached, nothing changed.
Edward, Alice, Esme, and Jasper returned from hunting that Monday morning. Carlisle had cleaned up the evidence of Bella's time spent there that weekend, not so much to hide anything, but to help lock it out of his mind. When they returned the house was clean, the hot tub covered, the movies returned to the shelf and only the trace of her scent lingered in the air like an afterthought.
He needn't have bothered.
Because as the days passed it felt increasingly as if it had all been some strange waking dream.
Alice continued to plan the wedding, not faltering even for a moment, no sign of cancelling with the caterers, venue, or sending notices to the guests. The only sign that anything, perhaps, was different was the challenging glares she sent Carlisle whenever he happened to meet her eye.
As if she was just daring him to open his mouth and say something.
Esme briefly discussed Bella and Carlisle's lost weekend, pleased when he dully told her it went well enough, and contentedly imagined Bella and Carlisle's coming honeymoon on Isle Esme. She didn't flinch from his touch, look at him with betrayal, ask what it was like to be with another woman, if he'd even tried to talk Bella out of it, or anything of that nature.
She didn't even seem to notice that Carlisle never came to bed after that weekend. That he spent the nights in his study staring dully out the window and letting his mind wander darker places. Instead, Esme was caught up in the love affair of Bella and Edward, her poor beautiful son, with Carlisle standing somewhere in the middle of it all.
He was starting to wonder, in the darkest part of his heart, if she even cared.
Jasper spared Carlisle a dull, sardonic, look now and then but didn't say anything. He usually didn't, Jasper was a man of very few words, but in this case, he didn't have to. Whatever he was thinking, Carlisle certainly agreed. Still, his silence only fed into the surreal atmosphere that clung to the Cullen household after the weekend.
Rosalie and Emmett returned home just in time for the last-minute wedding preparations. Emmett fitting back into his tuxedo with a grin and looking forward to the DJ at the reception. Rosalie, the world's most reluctant, scowling, bridesmaid as she tried to summon the will to be happy for Edward and her future sister-in-law. Naturally, she hadn't been told what had happened in her absence.
As for Bella, she returned back to her own world and life, and he didn't see her again. No, her time was monopolized by Edward and Alice as the big day approached.
And that was it, the strangest thing, everyone acted as if the big day were still approaching.
As if, despite everything that had happened and Bella's decision, she and Edward were still to be married.
Carlisle wondered if he'd been hit on the head. Wondered if, perhaps, he'd gotten the wrong idea from Bella. He didn't think he'd misunderstood her, she'd been very clear. He also didn't think she'd lose her nerve or go back on her decision. She'd said it with such conviction, and he knew, he knew she had the strength and courage to do this.
He knew she'd certainly try.
Except Edward, Edward out of everyone else looked as if nothing had happened. No, that something wonderful had happened, that everything was going his way and he could check off that one little box that had been bothering the pair of them for so long.
Leaving Bella had almost destroyed him. When he thought she was dead he in fact had sought the means to destroy himself.
Carlisle had thought that if Bella were to ever leave him, there would be nothing left of Edward. He thought Edward would cling to her with all he had, the way she had clung to him, and would desperately try to keep their crumbling relationship together.
Yet here he was, as if the worst was now behind them. Even Carlisle's constant thoughts of confusion and doubt did nothing to dampen his spirits.
Which left Carlisle feeling that Bella must not have spoken to him after all. That perhaps, like Edward, Bella was waiting until it was far too late.
The night before the wedding, Carlisle finally broke.
He'd said his piece to Bella, he'd certainly played his role, and now should have been the time for him to take his exit. Be there for Edward, for Bella, if they needed him, but nothing more. What words were left to be said, that was between them.
Or so he had thought.
Except, he couldn't stand here and say nothing. Watch as it all kept marching on towards inevitable disaster and unhappiness. Eventually, he had to find the will to say something.
"Edward," he said, walking into the foyer, catching Edward at the piano.
Edward was smiling as he stared down at the keys with an unbearable fondness. Carlisle remembered when it had only been Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, and Grieg that came out of that piano, as Edward's inspiration to compose failed him. He remembered when Edward had stopped playing at all, when he had merely sat at the keys despondent. Tonight, it was Bella's lullaby again.
Only, it appeared he was in the midst of adding a second movement to the piece, composing as he played. Still so very inspired by Bella's existence in his life.
At Carlisle's greeting he lifted his head and hands from the keys, still smiling, and Carlisle felt his heart breaking.
"Carlisle," Edward said, "Can you believe it's finally happening?"
Carlisle said nothing, just walked closer until he was standing over the piano, letting Edward talk, "Finally, after everything, tomorrow it'll happen. We'll be married, there'll be a Mrs. Edward Cullen, can you believe it?"
"Edward," Carlisle said again, forcing himself to say it, "Have you talked to Bella at all?"
Edward's smile abruptly disappeared and Carlisle was sure, even if he'd somehow avoided it for two weeks, that he was now seeing Carlisle's every doubt and Bella's every expression from that conversation.
"Carlisle," Edward said carefully.
"Edward," Carlisle repeated, "There's still time. I know it might seem like it's too late, but you can still turn back—"
"We've talked," he said dully, closing the cover over the keys with a harsh thud, eyes flat and expressionless.
"You have?" Carlisle balked.
"She's getting cold feet," Edward said dismissively as he got to his feet, clearly intent on walking out of the room, "It's nothing, just a few last-minute jitters, nothing unexpected."
"You mean—" Carlisle started as he followed after him, Carlisle's expression transforming to one of horror.
"I reassured her, of course," Edward said, not even pausing as he strode out of the room, "We've loved each other so long now. Sometimes, it feels as if I was born loving Bella Swan. Why should a single moment of doubt ruin that?"
"Edward!" Carlisle asked, moving forward at vampire speed to pull Edward back to face him, "Did you even listen to her?! Did you even let her tell you why?!"
"Of course I listened," Edward sneered, clenching his fists in useless anger as he tried to hold his ground against Carlisle, "I know what you think of us, Carlisle, I'm not deaf. It's not like what you think—not what she thinks. I love her. I will always love her and there will never be another!"
He shouted this last bit, daring Carlisle to disagree, and yet all Carlisle could think was how hauntingly familiar and unfamiliar Edward looked. The boy he'd known for a hundred years was still in him, but his expression was that of a stranger's.
Even when he'd left for those years on his own, dismissive, contemptuous, proud, and disdainful his face didn't look like it did now. So filled with pain, terror, and rage.
"You're not ready," Carlisle said simply.
"I am ready!" Edward spat back, "We're both ready! Bella knows that, she'll see it, we just have to get through this—"
"A wedding is an exchange of vows, Edward," Carlisle said, his own voice becoming flat as he felt something cold seeping through him, "It is not something that should be decided by one party alone. It is not something you should push through out of a feeling of obligation. We don't live in that kind of world."
This was not an arranged marriage, something between families, where neither bride nor groom had even met.
Edward scoffed, "She's not thinking clearly, she thinks I don't love her, as if that were even possible. You shouldn't have fed into her fears, Carlisle. Do you have any idea what kind of damage you left behind for me to clean up?"
Damage he left behind, was that how Edward saw it? That Carlisle had foolishly said a little too much, encouraged Bella's thoughts in the wrong direction, and that if he'd only kept his mouth shut Bella would be a happily blushing bride?
"You didn't have to encourage her," Edward hissed, before relenting, looking up at Carlisle with the betrayal Carlisle had expected at the idea of Carlisle putting his hands on Bella, not from merely talking with her, "You know I love her, you used to know I love her. Why didn't you tell her?"
He had many times, and going into that conversation, he had believed it too. Walking out of it, standing here now, he couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps it was as Bella had said, perhaps Edward just liked the idea of being in love with her.
And Edward, on hearing that thought, looked as if he'd been punched in the stomach.
"How many times has she tried to tell you no?" Carlisle asked.
Edward flinched, looked down at his shoes, and muttered, "Every night since."
Carlisle could picture it only too easily.
There would be Bella, pale and nervous, filled with both dread and boundless courage as she sat on her small bed. She'd look at Edward, always out of place in her small human world, her heart breaking in her eyes over and over, love in every gesture.
She'd say it too quickly, too flatly, first, just to get the words out as fast as she could before she choked on them.
Perhaps he'd make her repeat them, unable to believe what he'd heard, and she'd comply even through her own tears.
She'd be woefully honest and self-deprecating as always. It'd be for him, for his freedom to find the being he could truly love, and not for her. To Bella, her future was meaningless and bleak, eternity of nothing but the memories of the illusion of love.
And Edward would laugh at her. He would laugh fondly, tell her it was only nerves, only that ever present fear of abandonment. He would not leave until she told him to go.
And when she told him to go, when she tried to say it with all the determination and grief she had, he would say that it only counted if she meant it.
Carlisle, hesitantly, touched Edward's shoulder, "It's not too late, Edward, don't make her go through with this."
Edward jerked back, letting Carlisle's hand fall, and quickly said, "No—No, I, Carlisle—I can't lose her."
Did he ever truly have her if he couldn't even listen to her now?
"Carlisle," Edward said, voice breaking in horror and grief at the idea of losing Bella so soon after he'd found her again, "You don't know what you're talking about! You're—how could you think this?!"
"Edward," he said, feeling his own heart tear in half, "Let her go."
Edward just shook his head, "You're wrong, I love her, and she loves me too. We'll get married, and we'll have—"
"A wedding night?" Carlisle finished for him, watching as Edward flinched under Carlisle's harsh words and glare, "A honeymoon?"
"Carlisle," Edward begged, "Please."
Carlisle let out a breath, closed his eyes, and imagined walking to Bella's house right then and there. He'd find her, talk to her, and somehow when the sun rose tomorrow the wedding wouldn't happen.
But the sun rose, Carlisle remained in his own house, and Edward didn't call off the wedding.
Instead the decorations were all in place, flowers artfully woven around wooden posts and the makeshift altar. The weather was just as Alice predicted, nice enough for an outdoor wedding but not so nice that Edward couldn't stand outside.
At the altar, Carlisle's makeshift family assembled as groomsmen and bridesmaids, each undoubtedly the picture of perfection to the wedding photographer. Guests arrived, her mother, stepfather and a small collection of high school friends for Bella and the Denali coven for Edward.
In a crowd of humans, the coven stuck out as too beautiful sore thumbs. Tanya looked at Edward and the altar with fond exasperation, as if she always knew that one day Edward would find someone to catch his eye, and now he would never grace her bed.
Carlisle stood at the front, somehow roped into officiating a wedding that should never happen. His eye fell on Edward. Gone was the agitation, fear, and anger from the night before. Instead, he looked out to where Bella would walk down the aisle, all nervous anticipation, as if this were merely the beginning of their lives together.
And then she appeared.
Alice had done well. She was a vision in white, looking for all the world like an enchanted princess escaped from the wood. A crown of flowers had been woven into her dark hair, holding the veil in place. Her lips were bright and painted, mascara applied to her eyelashes, blush to her cheeks, all of it bringing out her dark eyes.
In another world perhaps she'd be smiling.
Instead, her mouth was a grim line.
In fact, Carlisle thought with narrowing eyes, she looked positively awful. Beneath the makeup, perhaps not evident to a human's eye, she looked ill. Her face looked gaunt, thinner after only two weeks, and her face unnaturally pale.
As she stood at the end of the aisle she quaked, gripped Charlie Swan's arm a little too tightly, and looked as if she was barely managing to stay on her feet. Charlie made to move forward but Bella didn't make a move. Instead, lifting her head, she first looked at Edward and then her eyes moved to Carlisle.
Even through the veil, he felt as if by simply looking her in the eyes, some unspoken, unknowable, truth passed between them. Carlisle didn't know what it was, couldn't explain what it was, but in that one second he felt as if they both saw through to the heart of one another.
Then Bella bent forward and vomited violently.
No one said a word, no one dared to take a breath, instead they all stared in numb horror at the green puddle on the carpet and green splatters on her beautiful dress.
Emmett opened his mouth, likely to say something purely Emmett, and was only stopped when Jasper jabbed him in the ribs. The silence continued, "here comes the bride" having stopped halfway through the first measure.
Bella, slowly, looked up at the altar again, dark eyes not seeming to take in anything. Once again, instead of Edward, she looked straight at Carlisle who looked helplessly back.
She let loose a single, clearly audible, curse, "Fuck."
Then, taking a step backwards, then another, "I'm so sorry!"
She threw the bouquet behind her, the flowers falling in the puddle of vomit. She desperately picked up her train and dress, tripping and hobbling as she ran as far and fast as one could in a wedding dress.
Charlie Swan recovered first, staring after his runaway bride daughter, calling out to her in shock and growing concern, "Bella?!"
Bella didn't wait, didn't even glance back, became just a fading vision in white as she disappeared into the tree line. Charlie quickly tore after her, disappearing into the trees after her, leaving the rest of them behind.
Edward hadn't moved, hadn't even breathed, even as not so far away, Carlisle could make out the sound of someone retching violently. Looking out at the audience, Carlisle couldn't help but meet the eyes of the Denali coven, taking in Tanya's raising eyebrows and pursed lips.
Carlisle tore his eyes away, cleared his throats, and after a beat of silence addressed the guests, "I'm afraid, it seems the wedding is off. Your gifts will be returned shortly. Our apologies."
With that, he stepped off the altar and made his way back to the car, leaving the guests, his family, to take their cue and disperse.
He hesitated only a moment, listening to Bella's continued vomiting, and wondered if he shouldn't check on her. But then, her father was with her, and Carlisle was surely the last person she wanted to see right now.
Looking over his shoulder he noticed Edward still standing dumbly at the altar.
While Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice had moved to the reception area, sitting down at the tables with the Denali sisters, looking as if they were trying to grapple with what had just happened, Edward was right where Carlisle had left him.
"Edward?" Carlisle called out.
Edward didn't move, didn't even look out to where Bella had disappeared. It was as if just by standing there, he could hold onto the dream just a little longer. Carlisle imagined that long after the guests, his own family, left he'd still be standing there. Holding onto a moment that never existed.
Reluctantly, Carlisle turned away and headed home.
Author's Note: Because the image of Bella, hobbling away in a wedding dress, only to vomit in the woods fills me with joy. Next time, Cullen drama as they try figure out what the hell just happened and Bella drops a shocking development.
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Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight