I'm here, Bella types as she walks up the front drive to the big white house on the hill.

Her legs are killing her. She's still not used to so much walking—especially not up and down hills like the ones all over the city.

The door opens before she makes it up the front steps. Edward stands on the other side in jeans and a black pullover smiling. "Hey, come in. How was work?"

"Same old, same old. The espresso machine broke, so I spent two hours talking up the chai and hot chocolate before they sent me home early," Bella replies.

She hasn't been back to the house since the new year. It's still as organized, clean, and spectacular as ever. The only difference is the throw pillows and blanket on the couch have been swapped out from a festive red to a more springy pale blue.

Alice skips down the stairs as Bella is taking off her shoes and backpack in the entryway. The combination of clothing items she's wearing—a white, open-knit sweater, neon lilac mini skirt, and baby blue floral-printed tights—looks bizarre to Bella, but she guesses it must be some sort of trend if Alice is wearing it.

"I want to see the ring!" Alice runs over to Bella and grabs her hand. "Hm...I thought he gave it to you..."

Bella frowns at how chewed-up her cuticles look compared with Alice's flawless manicure.

"She's not a fan of jewelry," Edward says.

Alice gives them both a questioning glance. "Okay. Well, congrats, anyway! Am I making your dress?"

Bella's pulse jumps. "No! Dress? What dress?"

"I'll get your measurements later. I have dinner plans, so the house is all yours," Alice sings, sliding on a pair of pointy heels in a similar purple shade to her skirt. She winks exaggeratedly. "Have fun!"

She's out the door in seconds leaving Bella alone with Edward.

"That was weird, right?" she asks.

"Not any more than usual," Edward replies. "What would you like to eat for dinner?"

She holds up the reusable grocery bag she's carrying on her shoulder. "I was thinking we could make something here. Is lasagna okay?"

Quite frankly, she's worried about putting any more of a financial burden on him or Alice after the impromptu trip. She doesn't have money to eat out at a restaurant, so she stopped at the grocery store on the way over.

Lasagna's cheap, easy, and she's made it a billion times for Charlie. It's been her go-to weeknight meal for years.

"Sure. I'm not much help in the kitchen, but we can do that," he says.

"I used to cook every day when I lived with my parents."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm a better cook than either of them. Plus they're always so busy working."

Bella follows him into the kitchen and they set about finding a baking dish. She preheats the oven for three-hundred-and-fifty degrees and takes the groceries out of the bag, setting the spinach, noodles, cheese, and jar of sauce on the counter.

Edward watches her curiously as she assembles the layers of ingredients. "You're staying the night, correct?" he asks.

"Mhm, I brought a change of clothes and stuff in my backpack," she answers, putting the lasagna in the oven and setting the timer for an hour.

"Did you park in the driveway? Alice might box you in if she comes back later."

"No, I didn't drive."

His brows raise. "Is your truck still having issues? You should have told me. I would have picked you up so you didn't have to call a ride."

"It's fine, don't worry about it."

She actually took the public bus, but she has a feeling telling him that will only make him flip. She was supposed to take her truck in to get repaired, but the quote for having it towed to the shop was too high.

"I have something for you," Edward says abruptly, leading her back toward the living room. "Upstairs."

She chews her bottom lip as she follows him. "It isn't more jewelry, is it?"

"No, no, I think you'll like it," he answers, grabbing her backpack from the foyer on his way upstairs.

His room—lined with hundreds of books, CDs, and vinyl records—looks the same as she last saw it months ago. Surrounded by his favorite things and the sunny, woodsy scent that clings to him always, she feels overwhelmingly content.

A medium-sized, wrapped rectangle sits at the foot of his bed. He picks it up and hands it to her.

Bella sits on the edge of the bed, heart leaping as she tries to think of what it could be. "Do I open it now?"

"I'd like you to."

"Of course..." She peels apart the tape holding together the crisp paper at a snail pace, hoping it isn't anything ridiculously extravagant.

It's a book. No, three books. A three-part copy of Jane Eyre, to be exact. It's in good condition, though lightly worn. It doesn't look like a recent printing at all.

She flips open the cover.

"It's a first edition," Edward says as she reads the original printing date of 1847. "To mark the first time you're staying the night in my room. You mentioned how much you like the Bronte sisters' work so many times, so I thought you'd like it."

"This...wow. Um, I don't know what to say. Aren't these kinds of things really expensive?"

"I have a friend who specializes in old books. Don't worry about it."

"T-thank you. It's very thoughtful." She sets the books down beside her on the bed and leans up to kiss him.

It's only a small peck. She feels nervous suddenly, despite having kissed him more times than she can keep track of.

She looks down at the plush, gold bedspread and over at the fluffy pillows piled up against the tall, contemporary headboard upholstered in black.

It isn't like any bed she's ever slept in. It feels very official and grown-up—like something she'd see in a sexy television drama about affluent, young people's romantic lives in the big city. The type of setting where an ordinary college freshman and her slightly older, financially stable, incredibly handsome fiancé could have hot, steamy, passionate—

"Should we check on dinner?" Edward asks.

Her heart is hammering in her chest. "Yeah, sure! That's a great idea!"

...

"Look at you! You're so cute!" Rosalie gushes.

"I know, none of my clothes fit anymore." Esme gives an awkward-sounding laugh and gestures to her navy empire-waist day dress. "I had to break down and get roomier pieces, which thankfully Alice is more than happy to help with."

They decided to meet at a cafe a few blocks north of the hospital—a sleek, health-conscious type of spot that sells expensive salads and pastas with artisanal dressings and flower garnishes. It's better than the cafeteria, and her coworkers don't frequent it, so the high prices are well worth it.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Esme prompts. "It feels like I haven't seen you much lately, but Emmett says you've been at the house."

She has been at the house, but only to sleep. It's embarrassing to admit, so Rosalie dances around the subject. "My schedule's been weirder than usual. A couple of the nurses I work with are on vacation.

"I suppose mine has been too. I've been so tired. I'm still cutting back on caffeine, so I'm napping all the time."

"You had your second ultrasound last week, right? How did it go?"

"Good, I have a really amazing obstetrician, so it makes things a little easier. She and her husband are friends with Carlisle, so it's nice to be able to trust their expertise," she says with a nod.

"Did you find out the sex?"

"No, I think we're going to wait and let it be a surprise. Although, Alice said she knows already."

Rosalie thinks back on Emmett telling her about Alice's intuitive abilities. It must be true if even Esme believes in them. She laughs in a way that she hopes sounds lighthearted. "I don't think I'd have the patience. It's too exciting."

"Here, I have pictures on my phone." Esme picks up her phone and taps on the screen a few times.

The black and white reel of ultrasound images instantly makes Rosalie smile. "Aww, that little nose! And the tiny hands! I'm so happy for you!" she coos. "Do you have names picked out already?"

When Esme doesn't answer, Rosalie looks up from the phone and finds her friend looking unwell.

"Are you still getting morning sickness? You look kind of pale."

"No...I've been feeling a lot better this week. I need to eat something, I think," Esme replies. She focuses her attention on the menu lying on the tabletop. "I'm going to get a green juice and...have you tried the kale quinoa salad here yet?"

"No, but it sounds good."

"I'll try it."

"Okay, my treat!" Rosalie offers. "I'll be right back."

She orders for them and returns with two green juices and a number for their table. The juice smells like cut grass and apples.

Esme takes a sip and looks down at her belly. "I'm a little...worried. They already have me working from home full-time with limited physical activity, but I'm not even in my third trimester."

"Are you okay now or do you want to go back?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I can walk around for an hour here or there and go out for a meal. It's mostly precautionary because of what happened last time. I wasn't too much further along than I am now when things started to, um, go wrong."

Right. The time when she lost her baby.

"I knew it was going to be difficult, but it's the little things that get you, you know?" Esme continues. "Carlisle's so excited, but I'm afraid if I get my hopes up, then I'll get too attached. I've been procrastinating setting up the nursery and...I'm rambling, sorry."

"No, it's okay," Rosalie reassures her. "It's scary, but it'll be different this time. You're in a much more stable situation now. You have a better partner, a nice big house, and lots of friends to help you. It's meant to be."

At least that's what Rosalie hopes. Even if everything is set up for success, life sometimes isn't fair.

She wants life to be fair to Esme. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's her.

"Thank you." Esme sighs. "I'm sure you're pretty overwhelmed too."

"I'm managing it," Rosalie lies.

The trial was postponed again. The lawyer she hired is expensive, and she can't keep paying him for however many years they plan on drawing things out. Her mom keeps asking me to go to my aunt's timeshare in Maine so she can set me up with one of her friends' nephews who sells real estate. She can feel a pimple coming in right in the center of her forehead.

"Are you going to the wedding? I got my e-vite earlier this week. You should have gotten one!" Esme says.

She didn't, nor did Emmett mention it.

"Edward and Bella set a date already?" Rosalie asks.

Esme nods, wide-eyed. "Yes, already. Carlisle and I both talked with Edward about it, and he's very set on August."

"It's an actual wedding? They're planning an actual wedding in less than five months?"

"I guess so. Alice will probably throw something together in the backyard since getting a venue will be nearly impossible. It doesn't seem like either of them wants anything huge."

"Yeah, that's insane...it's prime wedding season. Everything will be booked." She would know. She was about to have a last-minute wedding herself.

A waiter slides their food onto the table quickly, gathering up the little wooden letter sign and dropping off a stack of napkins before leaving.

She prods the salmon she ordered with her fork. It doesn't sound appetizing anymore. She should have chosen the lobster bisque.

...

Emmett flips through his textbook and glances between the page and the study guide he's filling out on his laptop.

It's one week until the midterm. An incomprehensible mass of information on business investments, option analysis, and pricing theory that he hasn't paid attention to all quarter covers the screen. It seems like something Alice would be good at, but he didn't think to ask her to study with him until now.

"Hey, Em."

Emmett looks up from his screen to see Riley and Diego. They look like they're making a stop in between class and practice. "Oh, hey! I haven't seen you guys in a minute," he says.

"Hanging in there?" Diego asks.

"Yeah. Just prepping for my finance midterm. How have you been?"

Riley grins. "You didn't hear? I got an invite to rookie camp."

"You're fucking with me."

"No, it's true. I'll be trying out for the Seahawks soon."

"That's awesome! Good job, man!"

Riley was never their strongest player, even though he is the team captain. Emmett wouldn't think he would be one of the players chosen to go to rookie camp, but maybe he's improved his game drastically over the past few months.

"Yeah...Did you figure out what you're going to do?" Diego asks.

He didn't. He was accepted to do social media for some tech start-up on the east side, but it's only part-time and temporary.

"Uh...I'm exploring my options still. I didn't really have a backup plan." He shrugs. "By the way, did you guys see anyone messing with my bag the day I got kicked off the team?"

As expected, they shake their heads. Emmett didn't think it would be that easy.

"Are you coming to the party Friday night?" Riley asks. "It's at Raoul's."

Emmett's about to say yes, but he remembers he already made plans. "I have to go to a cake tasting Saturday morning, so I can't this time."

Diego laughs. "What the hell? A cake tasting?"

"It's for Edward's wedding stuff."

"Isn't he supposed to take his fiancée to that?"

"Probably. Alice is the one picking out the cake, though, so I'm going with her and Jazz. It's free food."

"Right...Well, I gotta go," Riley says. "I'm meeting my girl for drinks. Later."

Diego nods. "Yeah, I should get back, too."

"Alright, I'll see you around," Emmett says with a wave. "We should get lunch sometime. And by lunch, I mean two for one beer at the pizzeria."

He turns back to his laptop and saves his work. Out of habit, he reaches for his phone to check his socials, but it's missing.

He pats the pockets of his joggers, looks under the table on the floor, and shuffles his belongings around to try to find it.

It's nowhere.

"Hey, can you call my phone? I lost it," Emmett says to a table of students a few feet away.

"Yeah, what's the number?"

Thud. A few tables down a short girl with long, dark hair knocks over a chair on her way to the front doors. It sends a textbook flying off the table, and a few students yell after her in surprise and irritation.

Emmett gives his number to the student and they call, but it immediately goes to voice mail. Bummer. He was sure it was on and the battery was charged.

He pulls up his messenger and types out a text to Alice. Lost my phone. Ideas where it is?

Three wiggling dots pop up as she types back. They disappear. They come back.

She takes way too long to reply.

I just had it, he types and sends.

I don't know. Buy flowers, is her reply.

He has no idea how that's going to help him find his things. Instinctually, he checks that his wallet and keys are still on him.

"Fuck, this is really not my day," he exhales.

...

"I can't believe you lost your phone, wallet, and your keys," Rosalie says as soon as Emmett gets in her car. "And did you know that Edward and Bella are getting married this summer?"

He tosses his backpack down to the floor and slumps back into the seat. "They are?"

"That's what Esme said." Rosalie hits the gas and zips through campus to the freeway entrance heading south. "I thought you're his best friend. He didn't say anything?"

"Nah, he's busy and forgets not everyone's a stalker mindreader."

She scrunches her nose in distaste. Edward still sounds like an awful friend. She doesn't understand why Emmett hangs out with him.

"Well, in other news, I got a start date from that social media job this morning," Emmett announces. "I'll be employed as of Monday."

"Great—oh my god! Learn how to drive," she shouts as the car ahead of her slows below the speed limit. Impatient, she accelerates close behind their bumper, changes lanes, and makes a show of cutting them off.

The sound of honking behind her confirms her success.

"We should go hiking or kayaking or something. When's your next weekend off?"

"Probably never."

"Tell them you have to go visit your great aunt for her seventieth birthday or something. We can go do the Enchantments Trail," he says. "It's super pretty. There are lakes and mountains and waterfalls and stuff. The thru-hike is just over nineteen miles, so it's doable in a day. We can rent a cottage. Maybe Jazz and Alice can come with, maybe not..."

She's only half listening because she's still stuck on the wedding thing. "How long have Bella and Edward been together?"

Emmett looks over at her, but she keeps her eyes on the road. "Uhh...they made it official a few weeks before Halloween if I remember right. Edward said something about taking her out into the woods to make out. Kinda creepy, but whatever," he answers.

She counts through the months quickly in her head. Stupid Edward and stupid Bella's have dated less than four months, not including their three-month break. It's ridiculous. By her calculations, that's an even shorter engagement than hers would have been to that human trash bag she almost married.

The most difficult part for Rosalie to fathom is that Bella apparently just happened to fall for an incredibly wealthy idiot who probably won't even make her sign a prenup.

It makes no sense. Bella's professional and academic achievements aren't exemplary by any means, and she probably couldn't point out the difference between La Mer and Neutrogena if her life depended on it.

He's absolutely repulsive, but how was it that Edward didn't even try to flirt with Rosalie a tiny bit when they first met? He either has terrible taste, or she's losing her oomph.

It's happening. Her mother warned her it would someday. She's already losing her ability to draw positive attention to herself. Soon she's going to be completely invisible.

"Is our anniversary on the day you called me or the day we met?" Emmett asks.

That's a stupid question. "When do you think it is?" she asks dully.

"I don't know. When you moved apartments?"

Manual labor, tipsy sex, crying, and fast food for breakfast aren't exactly her idea of a romantic start of a relationship. "No," she objects. "It was...when we got lunch that first time."

"Are you sure? That didn't even feel like a date."

"It was a date."

"There was no making out."

"Because you don't make out on the first date."

"Well, shit, maybe you have a point. I mean, that was the first first date I've ever been on if that's the case."

He's so annoying.

She sighs. "Fine, it was when I moved."

"Hell yeah, score one point for Emmett...and ninety-nine for Rosalie," he laughs. "I think you're right, though. That lunch was our first date."

She turns off the highway and onto the spiraling exit toward the house, riding the bumper of the car in front of her. Her tires skid slightly, but she's making good time.

Despite the fast driving, she feels more stagnant than ever.