Chapter Seven

If I think that our little sleepover is going to change anything, I'm severely mistaken. If anything, Bella pulls back slightly, though she tries not to be obvious about it. I know her well enough now to see right through it.

I don't know if I'm irritated or not. It'd be easy to be, but I can't bring myself to do it. I hate that I understand. I hate that she does this to me; that I let her do this to me.

As a result, Bella and I don't see much of each other when our Fall classes end, and we move into the exam period. I think maybe it's better that I can use my time to focus on my schoolwork. Every one of these exams is important in deciding my future. Nobody wants to be that guy who flunks out in his third year.

I study hard because I don't want to be in a bad mood when I do finally get home. I've been told that I'm terrible to be around when I'm concerned about my results. I want to enjoy my time at home, and acing my exams is the only way I know how to do it.

The exam period goes quickly. I fall into a bit of a rhythm, just about managing to fit in all my meals, sessions of studying, conversations with my family, friends and Bella. Ever since my brain decided that I've fallen in love with Bella, there's no possible way that I can think of her as a friend again.

We talk on the phone, and we exchange messages, but we don't try to see each other. The truth is that I'm not sure what I'll do if I do see her. I might end up saying or doing something that'll truly end up ruining things between us.

So you can imagine my surprise when I get home after I've written my last exam for the year and there's a certain brown-eyed girl in my bedroom. She's sitting on my bed, right next to the open suitcase I placed there before I left this morning.

As soon as I step through my door, I shut it with my foot and drop my bag to the ground. My mouth doesn't say anything as I just stare at her. I want to know what she's doing here, but I'm worried that it's all really an illusion.

It isn't.

"Hi."

I shuffle further into the room. "Hey."

She glances at the suitcase. "Going somewhere?"

"I'm going home," I tell her. "Tomorrow."

She blinks slowly. "Tomorrow."

"When are you going home?" I ask, walking awkwardly towards my desk. I shift my chair out of the way, and lean against the desktop, absently folding my arms across my chest. It's not an inviting position, but I can't help it. I don't feel very inviting.

"On the fifteenth."

I frown. "Why so late?"

"Oh, well, my family is doing a tour of the West Coast and, I'm meeting them in Sacramento when they get there," she explains, and I just nod. "It's back to business as soon as school lets out."

I watch her carefully, just waiting.

She just stares at me expectantly. It's as if she's waiting for something too. Eventually, she heaves a sigh. "I owe you an explanation," she says, dropping her gaze. "A real one. The full truth. Full disclosure."

I don't move.

"Before we moved to D.C., there was this boy, Jake," she begins. "We'd been best friends for years. It was actually a little strange, because his mom is my dad's best friend. They always told us that they went on one date when they were fifteen, and they decided that they weren't ever going to do it again." She sounds lost in the memory for a moment. "Well, Jake and I started to date before my dad even announced he was running. I think it's important that I say that. There was a before, Edward, and there was an after.

"When the announcement was made, things changed. Not just for Jake and me, but at school, and in life in general. People were suddenly very interested in my family, and I was worried about what it would do to, well, my friendships and my relationship. He assured me that he could handle it. Every day, he promised me that he loved me, and that the campaign wouldn't change anything." She gets this faraway look in her eye, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her.

"I'm sure you can guess what happened," she says darkly. "He couldn't handle it, and I sure as hell don't blame him. Maybe, for a while, I did, but not anymore. Because I understand. This life, it's not for everyone. It's not even for me, and it makes me miserable sometimes. It's hard having everything you do scrutinised; every outfit you wear analysed and criticised. My parents shield me from all that they can, but I'm nineteen now..." she trails off. "Look, Edward, you have to know what it's like."

I listen as she tells me about all the times that she's failed as a first daughter; about all the times that she's died to rebel in some way; about all the times she's discovered that she had very few real friends. I listen to every word she says, barely taking my eyes off of her.

Clearly, this is all something that she wants to say to me. She tells me about her run-ins with journalists, and about how her father increased her security detail when she started to spend time with the kids of his non-supporters.

"I did it on purpose, just because I knew it would wind him up," she admits. "I did a lot of things to push his buttons. The only reason he even allowed me to come to Chicago was if I promised that I'd behave. I would have done anything to get out of D.C. So I told him I would be good, and I have.

"I like it here; I like my friends, and I like the fact that I'm sometimes left alone, but not really. I mean, my life is always going to be analysed, my every move photographed and my every word picked apart. All I'm saying is that it takes a special kind of strength to go through it all and keep your sanity. It's natural to crack, and I definitely have before. I'll own up to that, which is why you have to know, Edward.

"So I really do like it here. I like that it isn't the same, but not too different. I especially like that I get to be this that I am person here. I didn't like who I was when I was in that House. It was... it just wasn't me." She shakes her head. "These are all things that you have to know, Edward," she says, standing up and closing the buttons of her coat. "They're things that you have to think about, and consider before we do this."

I blink. Wait. What did she just say? "Do what?"

She looks at me. "I don't know if you remember, but you once told me to call you when I'm ready to stop acting like a fucking child."

I flinch. Fuck, I did say that. "Bella?" I start, but she raises a hand to keep me silent.

"I thought I would bypass the call, and just pay a visit instead," she says, and I think I stop breathing. I must, because I don't seem to be moving at all. What did she just say? Wait, what, what the fuck did she just say?

Masen, pay attention.

"Bella?" I croak.

She smiles at me for the first time, and it's utterly dazzling. If I weren't already propped up against my desk, I might have stumbled backwards. Her smile is like sunshine, and I don't think that I've seen it shining so bright before.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I whisper.

She doesn't respond to my question. "You have to think about it first," she says. "Now that you know, you have to consider everything before, uh, before we do this."

"And when you say 'this,' you mean?"

"Try."

I'm going to squeal. Fuck, I'm going to lose all my cool points in front of her in an instant. Curse my mother and passing on her squealing genes.

She smiles again.

"Okay," I say, finding my voice. "I've thought about it... Can I kiss you now?"

An unexpected laugh escapes from behind her lips, and she shakes her head. "I mean it, Edward," she says. "You have to really think about it."

"I have," I argue. "Believe me, all I've done is think about this. I want this, Bella. I want you. Desperately."

Bella looks conflicted. It would be too easy to give in right now, but she clearly came here with a game plan in mind. Kissing was not a part of her plan, and I think it's best that I don't push. "Will you please just take the time to think about it?" she asks quietly.

"I will," I tell her, because I will.

"And then we'll talk about it some more when we get back from the Break," she offers.

I panic slightly. "Does that mean that I won't be able to talk to you at all?"

"No," she says; "we'll talk. Just, not about this. It's important to me that you think this through, Edward."

I nod. "Okay, Bella."

She smiles again, and it takes all my willpower not to reach for her and never let her go. Just the prospect of being able to hold her is enough to set my body alight. I'll get to touch her, to hold her hand and kiss her. My body suddenly feels electrified.

I think she senses it, because her smile turns into something else; something oddly predatory. She feels it too; I can see it.

She laughs lightly. "I should probably go, and let you get started with your packing."

I want to ask her to stay, but the words don't come out.

Bella moves to stand right in front of me, and I stand up straight. She takes hold of my left hand, brings it up to her lips and presses a gentle kiss against my palm. "Travel safely tomorrow," she whispers. "Will you let me know when you arrive?"

I nod.

"I hear that you're taking your boys with you," she says, not releasing my hand as she holds it suspended in between us.

"They come home with me every Christmas," I tell her. "They're family."

It looks like she has more questions, but she lets it be. Even she can accept that Jasper and Emmett are my family. "Did you know that this means that all of my friends are going to be on the West Coast for Christmas? You three, Rose, Alice and Angela."

I frown slightly. "Bella, I've been meaning to ask you this for a little while, but, umm, do you have other friends? Like, from class?"

She looks a little taken aback by my question, but she offers me a smile. "I do," she says; "just none that are quite like the rest of you. None that I'd miss as much as you lot."

I tug on her hand to bring her closer to me. "Are you happy, Bella?" I ask.

"Are you?" she counters.

With my free hand, I gently touch her cheek. God, her skin is so soft, and so warm. "I'm trying to be," I murmur. "I want to be."

She bites her bottom lip for a moment, before she asks a question for which neither of us is ready. "Do you think your happiness lies with me?"

"Would you be terrified if I said yes?"

"I would."

I remain silent.

"Oh boy," she whispers.

This time, I kiss her palm. "Is that something that you need to think about?" I ask her.

She takes a moment, but then she shakes her head. "I told you that I want you to be happy, Edward. There's nothing to think about."

I've died and gone to heaven, I swear I have. Or I'm dreaming. This is all a dream. I must have fallen asleep in my exam; that's what's happened.

She smiles brightly again, looking a little amused at my obvious reaction. "I'll see you in the new year," she says softly, her eyes flicking down to my lips. I can't even breathe. Bella takes a moment to settle herself before she reaches up and kisses the corner of my mouth. It isn't really a kiss, but it sure as hell feels like one.

I almost don't let her take that step away from me.

Bella lets out a small laugh, and then she takes another step back as she releases my hand. "Be good, Masen," she says, and then she's gone.

It takes me an embarrassingly long time to recover from everything that's just happened, and get to packing. I almost want to jump up on my furniture and scream out that I'm in love with Isabella Swan, but I don't.

I am, though. I am so unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her that it's borderline pathetic.

But I literally don't even fucking care.

When Jasper comes to visit me later in the night, I've barely recovered. I don't even know how to tell him that Bella's ready. We're ready. I'm sure I'll find the words at some point. So, instead, I just berate him about the fact that he hasn't even started packing.

In the end, he's done before I am. I don't know how he does it. But then again, all he really wears is wifebeaters and denim shorts. I have to remind him that we're going to be in Seattle in December.

It's the same as December in Chicago. But he's a Southern man apparently - whatever the fuck that means.

Emmett isn't leaving with us. He has football things to take care of before he can leave school. Oh, the joys of being a star football player. Jasper offered to wait with him, but I suspect that Emmett wants to spend some time with Rose.

So I'm taking Jasper with me. I'll probably need to knock some sense into him, given the debacle with Jessica. At least he took a step back and focused on his studies. I'm sure Alice was happy about that. Or just not mopey. Rose keeps spamming my phone with all her complaints about the emotional rollercoaster that is Alice Brandon. I'm so relieved that I don't have to see her every day.

Emmett drops us off at the airport in the OB, and then speeds off before I've even closed the trunk. Jasper and I exchange an amused look, and then we're on our way. I can't wait to get home. I've missed my family quite terribly.

The flight is full, of course, but it doesn't bother me as much as it bothers Jasper. There's a crying baby two rows in front of us and Jasper complains the entire way. I tune him out with my iPod and a novel that Bella recommended. As interesting as it probably is, I just can't get into it. I'm seeing my mom in less than two hours and, wow, I can't even focus.

My brother picks us up. He's parked in the stop 'n' go, and we can barely greet one another before the security guard is hounding us to get going. Jasper is full of talking, but I can sense some kind of unease radiating off of Peter and I'm not sure I'm ready to ask.

I don't figure out what it is until we get home.

Thankfully, Riley's at home with my mom when we get to the house, because he's the only reason that I don't visibly freak out when I see my mom.

What the actual fuck? No, really. What. The. Fuck.

Jasper doesn't look as surprised as I do, which just angers me further. I can barely form sentences, I'm so fucking confused; and I don't have it in me to be the good son and greet her the way I'm supposed to. What the hell is going on?

Why didn't anyone fucking tell me?

I focus on Riley. It's the only thing I can think to do. I'm freaking out, of course, but if I'm with Riley, I won't let it out. It'll stay inside, hidden behind my eyes and as I try - and possibly fail - to contain the hurricane of emotions currently inside of me.

It's when Peter's wife, Charlotte, gets home that Riley's attention is diverted, and my mom is able to catch mine. I can't even look at her. I won't.

She looks so fucking sick.

Like sick sick. Beyond sick. Like, the kind of sick you don't come back from. And, bloody hell, why wasn't I fucking told?

"Edward?"

I won't look at her. I can't.

"Sweetheart, look at me."

I refuse.

"Edward, please."

I look at her. How can I not? "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't want to worry you while you were writing your exams," she says.

"Bullshit!" I hiss.

She doesn't react to my cursing. I think she accepts that I'm allowed this reaction.

"When?" I ask.

Silence.

"When did you know?" I ask. "Before Thanksgiving? After? While I was here? Tell me!"

Jasper puts a hand on my shoulder, and I shrug it off. I stand up quite suddenly, and my chair topples over.

I can't look at any of them. So I leave. I walk out of the room, and then out of the house. I meet Tori on my way out, but I can't even look at her either. All of them. They all fucking knew, and they didn't tell me. Why wouldn't they just tell me?

Are they worried I'll do something crazy like my father did? Do they suspect that I'll leave school? That I'll what? Implode?

I walk for a while, the streets familiar and comforting. I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. They're messages until they're not. Someone's calling me and, one look later, I answer.

"Bella," I breathe.

She must hear something in my voice, because the usual lightness to her tone is gone. "Edward, are you okay?"

"Bella," I say again. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to hear her voice.

She figures it out quickly, so she tries to distract me. "The girls and I went to this restaurant today," she says. "It's called Beefcakes." She sounds so amused that I can't stop my smile. "I didn't really know what they were getting me into, because I was so not prepared.

"The waiters were all guys, and they all had their shirts off. It was wonderful and not at the same time. Rose wanted to scandalise me, I think. You should have seen Harry and Billy. They were so uncomfortable; it was worth going just to see their faces."

I'm successfully distracted, and we spend the next few minutes talking about nothing in particular. I wait until our conversation is over to head home. Everyone is in the living room when I walk through the front door. I don't even stop as I head up to my bedroom.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say; "Goodnight."

Things are tense for a few days.

I accept the blame for it, but I can't bring myself to understand. I hate that they didn't tell me. I hate that they thought me so, what, volatile, that I wouldn't be able to handle it. I mean, I've handled everything else so far, haven't I?

Don't they get it? I'm not my father.

I'm not.

Riley senses that something is amiss, but he wisely doesn't ask anyone about it. At least, not in front of me, he doesn't. I'm sure he's brought it up to Charlotte at some point, because she keeps giving me these tired, sympathetic, sometimes glaring looks that are starting to grate on my nerves.

I should have been told, God dammit!

Jasper attempts to talk to me a few times, but I don't want to listen. If there's something I definitely inherited from my father, it was his stubbornness. Because, truly, this is denial at its finest and I really don't fucking care.

Someone should have told me.

I can't get over it. I mean, it's one thing for my mom not to tell me, but Peter and Charlotte? And Tori! It makes me rage whenever I think that they must have had some kind of family meeting to discuss it, and then they decided that the son who's been busting his ass to pay their fucking bills without flunking out didn't deserve to know that his mother is -

What?

What is she?

Christmas comes and goes, and I just about calm down enough to enjoy it and be present enough that I don't upset Riley. Emmett is good comic relief, easily taking the attention away from the fact that I'm not vocal at all. I spend quite a lot of time contemplating just going back to Chicago. I mean, they didn't treat me like I was part of the family, so why should I be here?

I don't leave. It'd be dramatic, and childish. And, really, the last thing I want is to be away from my mom. I might be angry with her and not talking to her, but there is something oddly calming about being in the same house as her.

So I'm calm, angry, heartbroken, livid, and probably every other emotion you can think of. I'm feeling it all, and I fucking hate it.

It isn't until I decide to visit my mom's doctor, that I'm forced to accept just what is happening. It's in his office that I speed through the five stages of grief and come to accept that, yes, Edward, your mom is sick and she didn't fucking tell you.

I go to the hospital alone, though I mention my trip to Jasper, just in case anyone is looking for me. Some of the nurses in Oncology recognise me, though none of them are brave enough to greet me beyond a timid wave. It must be the look on my face. I'm here on a mission and they must see it.

I rap my knuckles on the office door and poke my head inside. The man I'm looking for is seated behind his desk, several files open in front of him and a slight crease in his brow. His head lifts up, and his eyes widen slightly when he spots me. I'm probably the last person he expected to see, so I don't blame him.

"Edward," he says, as he rises to his feet.

"Dr Cullen."

He sighs. "I've told you to call me Carlisle, Edward," he says, waving me in with one of his hands. "What brings you by?"

I move into the office and sit down opposite him. I don't say anything for a moment, as I try to find the words. I had an entire speech planned out, but now, nothing. "I need you to tell me the truth," I eventually say, cutting straight to the chase. I've come for a very important reason. "Tell me how long."

"Edward."

"Tell me."

He sits back down, his body heavy as it settles. "I'm not sure what I can tell you," he finally says. Oh yeah, confidentiality and all that. "What do you already know?"

"Nothing!" I snap. "Apparently nobody thinks that I need to be told anything."

He watches me for a moment. "You want to know how long?"

I nod.

"Four to six months, Edward."

It's a shock. I mean, I had an idea, but... I'm still stunned. It's too little. The time is too little. "B - but..." I stutter; "how?"

"What do you mean how?"

"Everything was fine," I say, sitting back. I feel winded. "I mean, sure, it was back, but she was fine, right? She was going to get better. Like Riley!" I shut my eyes tight for a moment, before they fly open. "This isn't how it's supposed to work, Carlisle! They take turns! They get better!"

"Edward?"

"How am I supposed to - I can't - " I can't breathe. "She - He - no no no." Is this a panic attack? Fuck, I can't breathe. I'm practically heaving.

In a flash, Carlisle is kneeling in front of me, with his hands on my forearms. "Breathe," he says, his doctor voice both soothing and distracting. "Just breathe. There we go. Can you tell me your phone number?"

"Huh?"

"Your phone number."

I blink. "Uh, five, five..." I begin. I'm at the sixth number when my breathing settles. That doesn't stop the reason for my panic from weighing heavily on my heart. I hate this. I fucking hate this.

Carlisle remains on his knees in front of me. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," I say sarcastically.

He ignores my snark. "Why do you think you weren't told?"

"Because my family thinks that I don't deserve to know," I offer, but we both know that isn't true. "Because they're trying to protect me. Because I'll come home and stay. Because they know this is my fault. I'm supposed to save - "

"Edward," he cuts me off. "Stop it now."

I shake my head.

"Logically, I know you know that none of this is your fault," he said. "You're a smart young man. It's not as if you truly believe that all of this is actually your doing."

"Then why does it feel like it is?"

"Because your heart is too kind, and you're begging for someone or something to blame. Evidently, you've settled on blaming yourself."

I can hear what he's not saying. I can hear it so clearly that it makes me sick to my stomach. I've chosen to blame myself because I can't bring myself to blame my father. To blame him for leaving us; to blame him for leaving me.

"Contrary to what you believe; this isn't all on you," he says solemnly, his gaze dropping to the ground in what I can only assume is shame. "Her treatment didn't work, Edward. If anything, that's a failure on my part."

I just stare at him for a moment, and just the tone of his voice tells me all I need to know. I feel ridiculous for never noticing it before. It's in his voice, and it's in his eyes. He's as broken up about this prognosis as I am, which means only one thing.

The question is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. "How long have you been in love with my mother?"

Carlisle doesn't so much as blink out of sync. Maybe he's been waiting for one of us kids to ask him this question for a while now. "Since I met her," he says, and I shrink back.

"It's been years," is the first thing I say, because I can't seem to bring up the fact that my dad was still alive when Carlisle and my mom first met.

"I know," he says soberly, leaning back slightly.

I shake my head. "Does she know?"

"Of course not."

"Why not?"

He looks at me with wide eyes. "Edward, are you seriously asking me that question?"

I nod. "Why haven't you told her?"

"Well, for starters, I'm her doctor," he said stonily; "It'd be inappropriate. And, what good would it do? It's clear that she's still in love with you father, and she definitely doesn't need me to make her last few months more complicated."

My heart lurches at the sound of his words. Last few months.

Carlisle stands slightly, and shifts so that he can sit down in the chair next to mine. "Listen to me, Edward," he says; "you can't tell her."

"I won't."

He almost lets out a sigh of relief, when I speak again.

"You will."

His eyes snap towards me. "What?"

"I don't think that knowing that she's loved by more than just her family will make things complicated," I say, and I mean it. "You have to tell her."

He looks at me as if I've lost my mind, and I think that I might have. It's definitely a possibility. I mean, I'm sitting here in my mom's doctor's office, practically demanding that he tell her that he loves her.

I've gone insane.

My mom is dying; I think I'm allowed my own version of a freakout.

In the end, Carlisle doesn't commit to anything. In fact, he's very diplomatic about not telling me what I want to hear. He rather just answers questions about my mom and her own disease. I vaguely hear him reminding me to get checked often. Apparently I have genes that are susceptible to, well, everything.

I have a nasty thought and think that maybe it'll skip a generation and instead attack my children, like with Peter and Riley.

It causes me to think about Bella, and I feel an odd sense of guilt wash over me. There are things that I'm going to have to tell her, and then she's going to have to think about it. Because, truly, if we do end up trying, then I believe that it will be it. For both of us.

That's the part that's probably so terrifying. It feels like we're making a decision that's going to last a lifetime. But, then again, with the way things go in my family; a lifetime probably isn't all that long.

I'm not sure how I get home, but I do. Peter's car is in the driveway, but I know it's still too early in the day for it to be him, which means that Jasper and Emmett are at home. I suspect they'll have questions about my visit to the good doctor, but I'm not in the mood to discuss it.

The house is quiet as I move through it, and up to my bedroom. I don't even feel like seeing my mom, which is probably because I might burst out crying if I were to. She's going to know that I know the second she lays eyes on me.

Which is why I stay holed up in my room until Jasper comes to find me.

"Tori's ordering pizza," he says, not commenting on the fact that I'm lying face-down on my bed and not moving. "Anything specific you want?"

I tell him no, and he leaves again. I think I'm saved from a conversation, but he returns minutes later and sits down on the edge of my bed. I know what he wants to talk about because, truly, I didn't tell him about my visit to the good doctor. She's worse than I thought, and I haven't yet told him.

And, frankly, she didn't tell him the extent either, and I think that's the part that hurts him the most. He's like her third son.

Emmett's her fourth. Really, all my friends are her little brood. Rose even dropped by the day after Christmas. I don't think I've ever seen Emmett happier in my entire life. I wish they'd just make it official, so we can all get on with our - short - lives.

"How long?" Jasper asks.

I don't beat around the bush, as I turn my head to speak. "Four to six months."

He sucks in a breath. "Jesus Christ."

"I'm sorry, but He's not here right now," I mutter.

He hits my shoulder, much harder than necessary. "What else did he say?"

"What else do you think he said?"

"Is there really nothing else they can do?"

I sigh heavily. Carlisle and I did discuss this. It was probably during the 'bargaining' stage of my grief. "There's possibly a clinical trial in Houston that he might be able to get her into, but she's refusing. Apparently, she's accepted her fate, and she just wants to live out the rest of her days with her family."

Jasper takes a deep breath. "What does that mean for you?"

"Huh?"

"School, Edward," he says. "What about school? And what about Bella?"

I groan.

"Does she know?"

I don't even bother to lift my head to look at Jasper. "Does who know what?"

"Does Bella know about your mother?"

My silence is response enough for him.

"Fuck, Edward," he says, standing up and starting to pace. "What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?"

"I don't know!" I snap back, my head lifting. "I don't fucking know, okay? I didn't tell her because I didn't want her to know. I didn't want her to be part of this life. If Bella didn't know then I could pretend that it wasn't really happening."

Jasper sighs heavily. "What are you doing, Edward?"

"I don't know," I say softly. "I really don't know, Jazz. All I know is that my mom is dying, and Riley is dying, and there's nothing I can do to stop any of it."

Jasper moves to sit back down on the edge of my bed, his body tense as he mulls over what I've just said.

Did I really not tell Bella about my mother because I was trying to ignore the possibility that, yes, she might die? That she's the kind of sick that you don't come back from? She's been sick before, but it's never been like this. It's never felt hopeless, because she's never allowed the cancer to take that from her.

Now it's like she's giving up, and I feel it.

She's going to die.

I think I did, to be honest. Maybe I just didn't want Bella's pity. Or maybe I didn't want to give her any excuse to leave. Or worse, stay.

"Is that what Dr Cullen said?" Jasper asks, needing me to say it again. "She's dying?"

I just about manage a nod. "He's also in love with her."

Jasper's eyes widen. "What?"

I nod again.

"Well," he says; "It's difficult not to fall in love with her."

I'm inclined to agree with him, but this situation is still a little too weird for me. I haven't yet spoken to my mom about what Carlisle and I did or didn't discuss and, truthfully, I'm not sure I want to. How does one even begin such a conversation?

I don't want to have to hear her tell me that we've spent our last Christmas together. Somehow, I just wish I'd known. I would have done more. I'd have taken her anywhere in the world; done absolutely anything and everything she wanted.

If she were to ask; I'd give her the entire world.

"I'll admit that even I'm a little in love with your mom," Jasper says softly. "I'm - I don't - " he stops. "Edward, I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

I don't tell him that it's okay, because it really isn't.

"I think maybe you should talk to Bella," he says after a while.

"I'll talk to her when we get back," I tell him, and I mean it. Bella's going to have know all of these before we can truly try. She deserves that much.

"Are you going back?" he asks.

"Of course I am," I say. "Do you really think my mom would allow me to do anything but?"

He nods, because he knows what I'm talking about. My mom would throw a damn fit before she allowed me to derail my life for her. She already thinks that I do too much. Doesn't she realise that I'm the one who has to look after her? Peter has Charlotte and Riley to focus on, Tori's still too young... which leaves me.

"I invited the good doctor to tomorrow's dinner," I tell him. "I figure he should spend the New Year with us." I'm still not sure that it's a good idea, or even what I was thinking when I made the suggestion, but I'm a little bit glad that I did.

Jasper pats my shoulder. "Come down to dinner, Edward," he says. "Come spend time with your mother."

I roll over onto my back and stare at my ceiling for a moment. "Do you think my dad is calling her?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was," Jasper says. "Wouldn't you want her with you?"

"I do."

He sighs. I can tell that he doesn't know what to say. Maybe if he weren't to close to it all, he'd know what to say. But he is close. We all are. Our mother has four to six months to live, and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

I feel him put a hand on my shoulder. It's better than words, I reckon.

"Come on," he says. "Get up."

I do.

"Let's go."

We go.

And, just for a little while, I'm able to pretend that the great big world isn't falling apart all around me.