I buried my face in his neck and sighed, wishing I could take him up on his offer, but the thought of Charlie coming home was enough to clear my head completely. Fun would have to wait.

"I should be going," I said reluctantly, getting up from Edward's lap. "I wanted to make Charlie something nice for dinner…"

Edward nodded, and then moved faster than my eyes could follow; I blinked and he was standing in front of me again, my coat in one hand and his car keys in the other.

We were silent on the way back to my house, and I had a feeling we were both thinking about last week, when Edward had taken me home from the meadow with my engagement ring on display for the first time.

We had stood on my front porch, Edward holding me to his chest as I tried to gain some control over my breathing.

"I could go in by myself," he said, rubbing my back in a soothing circular motion. "I should ask his permission."

"Permission?" I said blankly, drawing back from him to look into his face. "Permission for what?"

Edward rolled his eyes at me. "To marry you, of course."

My nervousness was quickly overshadowed by my indignation. I narrowed my eyes at him and drew away completely, crossing my arms over my chest. "I do not need anyone's permission to do i anything /i ," I hissed.

"It's the gentlemanly thing to do," Edward said, mimicking my stance. Somehow, he managed to look more stubborn than I did. It probably had to do with the fact that his crossed arms were stronger than a steel deadlock. Stupid vampire.

"How did you miss the women's liberation movement?" I demanded, refusing to back down. "You were alive when it happened!"

"Technically, I wasn't," he said, smirking at me. "And the women's lib movement described in your history textbook wasn't just a bra-burning fit of pique. History is a much subtler progression, and I believe that the advances made in equality have no bearing on basic rules of etiquette. It is still considered a proper gesture for the man to ask permission for a lady's hand."

I gaped at him.

"You… you are i anti-feminist! /i " I choked out, horrified that he was actually going to ask Charlie i permission /i for me to marry him. "Ugh!"

Suddenly the front door flung open and the porch lights turned on; I blinked automatically, my eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. Edward, of course, was unfazed.

"Good evening, Charlie," he said warmly.

"Are you kids fighting?" Charlie asked, surprise evident in his voice. Before Jake's 'motorcycle' accident Charlie would have sounded cheered by the prospect, but after seeing Edward's concern for Jacob, his opinion of Edward had significantly improved.

And tonight, Edward was going to use that to his advantage.

"No, not at all," Edward lied smoothly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and subtly adjusting my body so that my left hand was angled away from Charlie's line of sight. "Would it be all right if Bella and I spoke with you for a moment?"

"Sure," Charlie said, surprised again; usually Edward and I just went to the kitchen to talk while Charlie watched whatever game was on TV. We would remain in the kitchen until the late hour meant Edward had to leave, at which time I inevitably went straight to bed, where we would resume our conversation until I fell asleep in his arms.

Edward and Charlie were smiling politely at each other as Edward escorted me into my own living room; I was scowling, and scrambling for a way to derail this conversation before it even started.

"Oh, are the Chiefs playing tonight?" I asked Charlie, digging into the recesses of my mind for a sports team he'd mentioned recently. Usually my brain discarded all sports-related trivia, but tonight I would have traded my passing grade on the calculus final for a few sports statistics I could use to distract my father. "I didn't realize it was baseball season already," I babbled on, looking at the television where two ESPN anchormen sat discussing the night's game. "We should probably let you finish that, before halftime…"

"The Chiefs are a football team," Charlie said, bemused. "Baseball season is just ending."

"And there's no halftime in baseball," Edward added, smiling at me as though I had said something charming.

I fought the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

"So, what did you two need to talk to me about?" Charlie said, his voice suddenly wary.

The moment was here; Charlie had asked me to give him advance warning if I was about to do anything major, to at least give him a chance to hug me goodbye. I was going to do him one better; he could give me a hug i and /i walk me down the aisle.

I was about to tell my father that I was engaged. To Edward. I took a deep breath, and steeled myself for his reaction.

"Mr. Swan," Edward began formally, speaking before I had even finished opening my mouth. "I am sure you are aware of how strongly I feel about your daughter. Bella is everything to me. I am in love with her, and I want your permission to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

It was as if I was frozen, trapped in the process of exhaling; air could no longer pass in or out of my lungs. I stared at Charlie, but he didn't look at me; instead he was watching Edward, studying his face for—what? Signs of insincerity? Was he hoping this was a joke? Or was he deciding on the best way to drum up false charges against Edward so he could throw him into Forks' single holding cell for the night?

Edward remained silent, not flinching away from Charlie's steady gaze.

Somehow, my lungs started working again, and I was able to speak.

"Dad, I know this isn't what you'd want for me," I said. Neither of them turned to look at me, but I continued, my voice growing stronger. "I know you think I'm young and that I'll regret it, but I won't. I know myself and I know Edward, and us being married—it's more than just right, Dad. It's fate. And I'm going to do it, with or without your—blessing. But I'd much rather have it." I whispered the last line, and Edward, his eyes still on Charlie, reached out and grasped my hand.

The movement caused my father to turn his gaze from Edward's face to my hands, which were clearly visible. My engagement ring reflected the flickering light of the television.

Charlie looked away from my left hand, clearing his throat. Our eyes met, and in that moment I realized how much Charlie's blessing would mean to me. I had really wanted to elope with Edward to Las Vegas, without my dad's or anyone else's knowledge (well, anyone except Alice's). But, now that he knew, I was terrified I wouldn't have his support—that he'd be too disappointed, too unhappy about my decision to celebrate with me.

Charlie finally returned his gaze to Edward. "I appreciate your candor," he said gruffly. "And I know how Bella feels about you, and that there's no stopping her when she's made up her mind. But if you ever leave her—if you ever cause her pain or suffering again—I will not rest until I have used every means at my disposal to find you, and I i will /i make sure you are not capable of setting foot near Forks again."

Edward nodded gravely, as if Charlie's threats against his person were plausible. "I understand. And I want you to know that Bella's happiness is the only thing that matters to me; being Bella's husband is the only thing that matters to me. I would rather die than leave her side."

Charlie nodded, and stood up from the armchair, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Well, congratulations, Bella," he said finally.

"Oh, i Dad! /i " I cried, launching myself off the couch and into his arms. I was so happy, so relieved, that I felt like crying; I scrunched my face into his shoulder and hugged him, thanking any god that might be listening.

He hugged me back, for once not patting me on my back and pulling away after a few seconds. Now he held onto me tightly, as if he knew this was going to be the last time he'd be able to hold his daughter this way. Then I really i was /i crying as I realized that wasn't far from the truth.

"I love you, Bella," he said, squeezing me tight once more before letting me go.

"I love you too, Dad," I said weakly, brushing away a few stray tears.

Edward held out a hand for Charlie to shake, and Charlie took his hand, then surprised me by pulling Edward into a brief one-armed hug.

"You take care of her, now," Charlie ordered, his voice sounding gruff once more.

"I will," Edward answered him, grave and solemn.

"I guess we'd better call your mom," Charlie said, turning back to me. "I think I should be here to help break the news."

"You're probably right," I agreed, my temporary high over Charlie's reaction subsiding as the prospect of breaking the news to my mother loomed ahead. I tried to calm myself, preparing to tell Renee that her life-long lecture—"The Disastrous Consequences of Marrying Your High School Sweetheart and Why You Should Wait Until College"—had failed to take root, and that I was to be married to Edward on August 4th.

"On second thought," Charlie said, as if he'd read my mind, "maybe we'd better let Edward do it."

I shied away from remembering the rest of the night. Edward had talked to my mother, but she had said nothing to him except to demand to speak to me. The following fifteen minutes were explosive; Renee and I had never had a reason to argue before, and I was terrified that our first fight would be the last thing that happened between us before I got married and "moved north"—the euphemism I used when thinking about my impending transition to a vampire.

I was glad when Edward pulled into my driveway, effectively distracting me from thoughts of last week's arguments. I noticed that the police cruiser wasn't in the driveway yet, which meant I had time to cook Charlie something nice for dinner. I felt I owed him at least that much—a few final weeks of me taking care of him before I had to leave.

Edward opened my car door for me and walked with me inside, where I started pulling ingredients for chicken stir-fry out of the fridge.

"Do you think you'll miss cooking?" Edward asked me as I picked up a knife, intending to begin slicing the vegetables. I blinked as I realized the onion I had meant to chop was gone, as was the knife I'd been holding. Instead, Edward was chopping it up on the counter beside me, completely immune to the onion's effects on human tear ducts.

"I don't know, it's not like I'm doing much of it now," I said sarcastically.

Edward immediately ceased dicing. "I'm sorry," Edward said, setting the knife on the cutting board. "I thought you'd want to begin on the chicken. I was just trying to help."

I sighed, annoyed with myself for getting annoyed with Edward. "No, I'm sorry, I'm being stupid. I thought you just didn't want me handling a knife."

"You are unusually dexterous in the kitchen," Edward said, smiling at me as he resumed his chopping. "I don't think knives pose any threat to you as long as it's a vegetable on the receiving end."

I smiled back, Edward's casual joking easing me into a sense of normalcy. "Well, to answer your question, I think the answer will be yes… and no. I don't think I'll have to give it up completely. In a few years, I'll be able to cook for Charlie again whenever we visit."

I kept my voice light and easy, and neither of us mentioned the possibility that it may be more than a few years before I'd see Charlie again.

center /center

That night I woke suddenly, sitting up ramrod-straight in bed. I was panting as if I'd been running.

"Bella?" Edward said, touching my shoulder with his cold hand. "Are you all right? Did you have a bad dream?"

"I… I don't know. Did I say anything?"

"No," Edward said, stroking my hair. "You did start breathing a little fast right before you woke up, though."

"Huh," I said, unable to remember anything, which was unusual for me. Usually I had very vivid dreams. Unsettled, I glanced at my alarm clock, where the faint green light read 2 am.

"Are you anxious about anything?" Edward asked, sliding his hand up and down my back. "Are you nervous about the wedding?"

"I don't think so," I said, leaning into him. I knew he was trying to soothe me back to sleep, but I was wide awake. "Speaking of the wedding," I said suddenly, remembering something I'd meant to ask earlier today, "how many invitations are you and Alice ordering, anyway?"

Edward smiled at me. "Don't worry, I managed to reign in her enthusiasm. Outside our immediate families, we're only inviting about 20 guests."

i "Twenty? /i " I said, astonished that Alice had agreed to such a low number.

"I think I was able to convince her to keep the number down for Jasper's sake," Edward said, giving me a sly look. "We invited a few of our friends from the coven in Denali, and a few of your friends from school. And I think Carlisle invited one or two coworkers he's friendly with from the hospital."

"Oh, that's good," I said, relieved that, since they were forcing me to have a traditional wedding, that at least it wouldn't be gargantuan.

My mind strayed to my one friend that wouldn't be on the guest list—the one face it might be impossible for me to ever see again. I tried to shove the thought away, but the image of Jacob lying on his bed, an unfathomable expression on his face, recovering from his wounds—the worst of which I'd inflicted—haunted me.

"What's bothering you?" Edward asked me, pulling me against him. I was now using him like a giant body pillow—I nestled into his chest, wrapping my arms around him, my legs twining with his. He'd been thoughtful enough to wrap a few blankets over himself, so I was comfortably cool.

"I'm enjoying this," I said, dodging his question. I didn't want to blatantly lie to him, but I didn't want to tell him that I'd been brooding about Jacob while lying next to him. I had already hurt Edward enough.

I focused on the slight rise and fall of Edward's chest—a rhythm he maintained out of habit, not necessity. I raised my head slightly, placing a kiss at the hollow of his throat.

"I love you," I said, apropos of nothing.

"I love you, too," Edward murmured, running his fingertips through my hair. "Are you sure there's nothing on your mind?"

"Well… I was wondering about something…" I said, thinking back to my conversation with Esme in the kitchen earlier that day. I had promised myself I would ask the important questions now, while I was still more interested in my relationship with Edward than with a potential relationship with the nearest tasty human.

I cleared my throat softly, and shifted my position so that I was lying on my side, facing Edward. I took his hand in mine and traced tiny circles on the back of his hand. "Would it be okay if I asked you something about your—human life?"

"You can ask me anything, although I can't guarantee I'll remember much. My memories of my human life aren't particularly clear."

"I was wondering about your mother, actually," I said quietly. "What was she like?"

Edward was quiet for a minute, and his eyes became unfocused. After a few moments he spoke, though his expression remained as though he was staring at something I couldn't see.

"Her name was Elizabeth Masen," he began, and his voice sounded far away—like an echo of an echo. "She had green eyes, just a shade darker than mine… she was very beautiful, and I remember that she always wore a pair of white gloves whenever she went out. She wasn't very political, but she was very well-informed. She used to discuss my father's cases with him in the evenings…. Did I ever tell you my father was a lawyer? I'm named for him," he said, turning back to me.

"I didn't know that," I answered, smiling. "What kind of lawyer?"

"Estate planning. Thanks to him I was able to claim my family's assets after the epidemic. I was never interested in pursuing law as a career—I was much too eager to join the military to take my father up on his offer to join his firm—but my father encouraged me to read the books in his study, and I managed to pick up a few things." Edward smiled suddenly. "I'd bet he'd be very amused to know it was his library that kept the government from appropriating our family estate."

"You had a family estate?"

"I i do /i have a family estate," Edward corrected me. "The house in Chicago is still in my name—well, one of my names; I've had to forge a few wills over the years so that the government didn't keep trying to take it over every time I died."

"Oh," I said, absorbing this. I realized that Edward was probably wealthier than I had ever guessed.

Edward saw the disconcerted look on my face and deduced exactly what I was thinking. "Would you like to know how much property you'll be gaining by marrying me?" he said teasingly. "Perhaps we ought to get a prenuptial agreement, to make sure you get all my money if you ever try to leave me."

"That doesn't make sense," I said, vaguely remembering celebrity horror stories of prenups gone wrong. "Isn't the point of a prenup to protect the wealthier spouse?"

"That is usually the way it works," Edward said. "But I know that, if I wanted to prevent you from leaving me, all I'd have to do is make sure you robbed me of every penny in case of a divorce."

I laughed along with him, tucking my head in the curve between his shoulder and neck. His scent was stronger there, and I inhaled deeply, pressing the tip of my nose to his granite skin.

"Anything else you'd like to know?" he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. Now that he had control over his desire to drink my blood, he thought it was funny the way we both smelled so appealing to one another.

"What was it like, before WWI?" I asked, trying to picture Chicago nearly a century ago, on the brink of the First World War—the War to End All Wars, they'd called it…

"I don't remember too much—flashes, really," Edward said after a while. "My family was moderately wealthy, so we didn't feel the effects of rationing. But my mother didn't want me to join the army, and she kept me away from the recruitment stations. But she couldn't keep me from the passage of time—I was just months away from turning 18, and then I'd be drafted. I was very excited about it; it was all my friends and I could talk about."

"Did you have many friends who went to war?" I asked, suddenly worried that his past was even more tragic than I already knew.

"No, I was the oldest," he answered me. "Though my friend William had an older brother who was drafted in August 1918—they had just lowered the draft to men eighteen years old. I don't know what happened to either of them, though… the epidemic, and then Carlisle turning me, overshadows my memory of that time."

"Did you ever try to find your friends?" I asked, trying to be nonchalant. I knew I didn't fool him, though, because he tightened his arms around me, as if he could protect me from a truth I didn't want to hear.

"No," he admitted finally, still cradling me tightly to his chest. "By the time I had cultivated enough self-control to be around people comfortably, most of my friends would have been in their forties or fifties… I couldn't visit them, not when I still looked like a seventeen-year-old. At best they would have thought I'd fathered an illegitimate son; at worst, they'd think I was a ghost or a demon—in other words, they'd see me for what I was."

"Don't say that," I said, surprising us both with how angry my voice sounded. I was immediately remorseful for getting upset with him when he was sharing so much of his past with me; I had no right to be angry with him for the way he'd felt. Flushing slightly, I pressed my body against his deliberately, and kissed my way up to his ear.

"No ghost could feel as good as you do," I mumbled, and, on an impulse, I licked along his jaw line. It was like tasting a very dry popsicle, except eating popsicles made me shiver with cold rather than pleasure, as I was doing now. My cheeks burned, and I wondered if I was making a complete fool of myself. Did men liked to be licked? Or was I being weird?

Edward, however, seemed to enjoy my attempts at intimacy; he pressed back against me, and gently turned me so that I was lying on my back. He lowered himself on top of me gently, supporting his weight with his forearms on either side of my head.

His eyes met mine and, very deliberately, he lowered his gaze from my eyes, to my lips, to my neck, to my chest…

I was wearing cotton pajama shorts and a white t-shirt, and suddenly I wished I was wearing something sexier. I thought again of my mother's gift two Christmases ago, the Victoria's Secret silk pajamas that were undoubtedly stuffed in a cardboard box, yet to be unpacked in Florida.

But Edward distracted me from mentally tallying my wardrobe's deficiencies; in fact, I was quickly much more concerned with what I i wasn't /i wearing than with what I was.

Edward had moved so that one hand was resting on my collar bone. He was now balancing all his weight on a single forearm, and a small, slightly hysterical corner of my mind realized Edward would look amazing doing one-handed push-ups, military-style, with no shirt on…

Edward's palm traced my collar bone and slowly slid over my chest, where it was extremely obvious that I wasn't wearing a bra. I felt my nipples harden beneath the thin jersey-knit material, and my already flushed cheeks felt like they were on fire.

His eyes met mine as he cupped my left breast with his hand. I hadn't expected this to feel so good—I had touched myself there plenty of times, and it felt no different than stroking my arm or leg or stomach. Now, though, the soft skin there felt electrified, and my heart was beating erratically. That same hysterical corner of my mind speculated that maybe only someone else could turn you on this way—like how it was impossible to tickle yourself…

Edward squeezed my breast gently, pressing his palm against my nipple, applying pressure in a slightly circular motion. To my extreme embarrassment I moaned, and instinctively pressed my hips up off the bed, seeking friction.

He stilled his movements, then swiftly rolled away so that he was lying beside me once more.

The sounds of my ragged breathing filled the silence. Edward had never touched me there—or anywhere else—with such deliberation; I wondered why he stopped—was my heart beating too fast, a temptation made even more impossible to resist by his proximity to my breasts? Or perhaps my breasts—which barely filled out a B-cup—weren't enough to hold his interest…

Edward cleared his throat. "I hope you didn't mind that…" he said, sounding very unsure of himself. It was so unlike him that I turned to face him, staring at him questioningly.

"I had to stop, for fear of losing control," Edward explained, an apologetic frown on his lips.

I sighed, relieved that at least it wasn't my lack of extraordinary breasts that had caused him to stop. "I'm sorry, I couldn't stay calm enough… my heart just wanted to beat out of my chest…"

Edward looked confused for a fraction of a second before he gave a soft chuckle. "No, not that kind of control. I was worried that, if I continued, I would be tempted to take more liberties with your person than is entirely appropriate."

"Oh, well if that's all," I said, grinning as I settled myself back on top of him.

Finally my heart slowed into its normal steady rhythm, and I let my eyes drift closed.

Edward heard the change. "You should sleep now, Bella," he whispered, kissing me softly on top of my head. "I think Alice has a big day planned for you tomorrow."

"Now I really i will /i have nightmares," I said, but there wasn't any sourness in my voice; I was far too comfortable to be perturbed by Alice's next torture.

And, just as suddenly as I'd been jostled from sleep, I felt myself sliding back into slumber.