Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews and favorites! Please don't stop. It makes me so happy.
I heard Renee's mind before the car was in sight. The radio was playing in the background, and she was concentrating on the road. I smiled to myself. I could see how Bella had acquired her extremely conservative driving habits. I wondered if I would ever teach her to enjoy speeding.
I climbed into the back seat. The car was full of Bella's heavenly scent. The moisture in the air made it especially intense. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My throat was dry and hot, of course, but the rest of my body was tingling from the exciting fragrance. The impact was overwhelming, like plunging into a whirlpool.
"Do you think that's a good idea, Edward?" Renee asked.
My eyes snapped open. Apparently, I had failed to attend to the conversation.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Bella turned to look at me in surprise. She expected me to be ahead of the curve, not completely out of it. I nodded, trying to reassure her that I had everything under control. She was still frowning slightly.
"We're going to the grocery store," she explained. "I want to cook dinner for everyone tonight."
"That sounds great," I replied. Get a grip, I admonished myself. Play your part. What would a normal, doting boyfriend say? "I love your cooking."
She rolled her eyes and faced forward again.
Bella decided to make enchiladas. Renee had some other items on her list, and we started in the produce section. Renee examined the bananas, and I held a bag open for Bella as she selected apples. One of them slipped from her grasp, but I grabbed it before it hit the floor and held it out to her. She reached for it, but her eyes slid over to Renee. He's so quick. Yes, Renee had noticed, and my save had reminded her of the glass from the night before. But it's more than that. He can catch what she drops because he's always watching her.
Bella placed the apple into the bag. "Thanks," she said, trying to sound off-hand.
We finished the shopping without further incident, but Renee was very thoughtful. I've just been enjoying Bella, but I need to study her. She seems happy, but is he really good for her? She intended to observe us closely. My behavior was provoking suspicion. I supposed I could have let the glass and the apple fall. But then, Bella was accustomed to my rescuing her from such mishaps. She might have expressed surprise. We weren't used to having an audience to our interactions, let alone such a shrewd and attentive one.
Back at the apartment, Renee prepared a simple lunch. Clearly, I was not going to be able to dodge the bullet any longer. I bit into my sandwich with a smile.
"This is delicious. Thank you, Renee."
Bella's eyes widened slightly, but she made no comment.
I offered to clean up after our meal, but Renee sent us out of the kitchen. In the living room, I picked up a framed photograph of Bella as a little girl wearing a white leotard. Her eyes were the same rich chocolate brown and held the same sparkle. I wished I had known Bella every day of her life.
"I was eight years old then. It was the holiday recital, and we were snowflakes."
"Snowflakes are perfect and unique, and so are you," I told her quietly. I set the photograph back on the table. I wanted to pull her close to me and kiss her, but I had to settle for holding her hands and looking deeply into her eyes. She could sense my passionate interest. Her heart beat faster, and her breath became uneven. She was swaying slightly, about to fall into my arms.
"Bella," I said quickly. "Do you have any more childhood photographs?"
"Yes, I have lots," said Renee, walking over to us.
"I'd love to see them."
Bella bent down to pull the photo albums from the shelf. She spoke very softly, so that only I could hear. "Stop dazzling me!"
But she smiled as she straightened up and handed me two thick albums. She wasn't angry, just a bit chagrined at being so susceptible to my gaze. I smiled back. If she preferred to keep her wits about her, I would refrain from making her dizzy. But I loved knowing that I could.
Renee and Bella sat on either side of me as we paged through the albums. I worried that Renee would notice my unusual body temperature, but the apartment was air-conditioned. She wasn't troubled. Her head was full of memories. Every photo was absolutely captivating to me. Charlie had Bella's school portraits on his wall, but Renee's album held dozens of adorable poses and charming expressions, and her mind reflected the circumstances of many of the photographs. I could have spent an hour studying each page. I'd have to settle for recalling the images later.
"Edward, do you have pictures of yourself as a child?" So handsome. What did he look like as a baby?
I felt Bella tense up beside me.
"No," I answered calmly. "I'm lucky that I have a few family heirlooms. But no pictures."
"How old were you when you were adopted? Do you remember your parents?" Bella told me about his past, but I'd like to hear it from him.
"Mom, maybe Edward doesn't want to talk about it." Bella sounded uneasy.
"It's OK, Bella. I don't really remember my parents. It doesn't upset me."
Renee listened in fascination as I told her my usual story. She wanted to know all about my brothers and sisters. She had met Alice and Carlisle in Phoenix, but not the others. I monitored her thoughts carefully, alert for any sign that she doubted my words. Her mind held no skepticism, only respect and admiration for my parents and compassion for me and my siblings for being orphaned or abandoned by our birth families. I was relieved that she harbored no misgivings about my background, but I also felt guilty. I didn't deserve her sympathy. I was deceiving her in so many ways. But I had no choice.
Renee sat back and let Bella narrate some of the more recent photographs, from just before she moved to Forks. She was still thinking about me. On the surface he seems so serene, so self-assured. But he's been through a tough experience. He didn't have a sheltered childhood either. That can make a person very vigilant. Maybe it's a good thing he and Bella found each other.
