I don't own Twilight or, sadly, Edward Cullen (or Masen D= ).

Edward POV

I had always known it would come to this.

Actually, there was no getting around it. This was bound to happen.

A loud pang filled the empty air around me as my fist pounded against the delicate keys of the piano. Thankfully I hadn't broken anything. I had promised myself when I saw my mother's happiness at the thought of her only child being married that this arrangement wouldn't upset me.

And it shouldn't; the voice inside my head told me.

Love wasn't real. Just something in fairytales. Sure there were… interests, lusts. But nothing that could last without breaking.

At least for me.

So sure, I would live with a woman I did not know. Share my life with her, my house, my money.

I sighed, running my hands through my unruly hair before making my way to the dinner table where my mother was already waiting for me, deciding it was best to just forget about the situation.

"There is no use waiting for your father, Edward. He had to make a house visit to Mrs. Fields; poor gal has fallen ill with the Influenza. I have heard it's making its way North now."

I nodded, eyeing the concoction the house maid had created. It looked like green soup… with chunks of meat?

"Yes, I saw that on the newspaper front when I was making my way from the village. One hundred people have fallen sick due to the flu in Chicago, Illinois alone."

My father being a doctor worried my mother sick whenever he would go away on a house call. She almost always made him shower before coming farther into the house so no one would catch what he was around. He tried explaining to her that it was really a useless tactic since germs are more often than not carried by air, not by clothing to which my mother cleverly countered that 'more often than not' still meant a small amount was carried on clothing, and could therefore get us sick.

From now on, my father always heads towards the shower after a visit with no questions asked.

I had always secretly believed my mother did not want to lose her only child, she babied me so much.

After a few minutes of my mother drinking tea, me picking apart my bread, she brought up the thing I was most opposed to discussing.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" I peaked up at her to see her looking across at me, her green orbs, the same color as mine, sparkling with excitement.

"More anxious than worried," her eyes narrowed, something I had apparently acquired from her habits.

"Why anxious? Shouldn't you be excited to meet your fiancée for the first time?" I made a face, pushing my food away from me.

"It would have at least been nice if I could have met her a few months prior to the engagement."

"But how do you know you haven't? You could have passed her by in town one day and never had known. Anyway, the wedding is in a week and you will be so busy with preparations that you won't have time to worry about anything until the second she walks through the doors in her wedding dress. By then it will be too late for second guessing things and you will lead a happy life following your honeymoon."

I had taken a drink of water, but coughed, choking on it at my mother's last statement.

"Honeymoon?!"

"Yes. Honeymoon," she gave me a strange look like I was losing my wits and began wiping up the water droplets that had sputtered across the table during my… moment.

"What good would a honeymoon do?! It's not like we would be in love!"

"Why, to consummate your marriage of course," I pinched the bridge of my nose at the thought of having this conversation with my mother of all people, but she had to be straightened out in her assumptions.

"I am not consummating my marriage the second day I meet her!"

My mother looked up at me, her eyes wide with quarrel.

"Her name is Isabella, not her and how else do you expect to make your marriage legit? It would be like celebrating Hanukkah without a menorah!"

"Mom! Not to be impolite but I really do not want to have this conversation with you!" she smiled kindly before setting back down and placing a lump of sugar into her tea.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when your wife expects… that," she waved her hand in the air as an indication of what she was implying, "on your wedding night. It's a normal practice, even for pre-arranged marriages."

I groaned, nonverbally excusing myself from the table to my room.

It was times like these I wished I had an older brother to talk about things like this with.

Next chapter is the meeting!!

Thanks to those (3, lol) who reviewed!!