I get to bring Edward back with me for Thanksgiving. He's waiting for me on North Notre Dame Avenue just past Morrissey Hall with his duffel bag, looking adorably rumpled and tired. I throw the truck in park and climb out to run over to him. I want a full body hug, plus I need to stretch my legs.

"Bella," he says with his head on my shoulder, his lips against my neck. He sounds as tired as he looks. He's so much taller than I am that he almost has to bend over me to scoop me inside of his embrace, and I love it because I feel him from every side.

I comb my fingers through his hair and press kisses on the side of his cheek. "I'm here, Edward, I'm here."

As our hug continues, I ignore the stares. Let them look.

He finally releases me with a smile. "I'm so glad you're here."

I frown. There are deep circles under his eyes, and I trace one softly. "You're working too hard."

He catches my hand with his and presses a kiss against my knuckles. "I am, but only because I didn't want to be loaded down with work while I'm home."

"That's what you think," I tell him. "You're going to be peeling potatoes and chopping celery for me."

He groans, then flashes me another killer smile. "Whatever you need me to do, as long as I can be near you."

I blush. What a sap he's become.

On the way home, he falls asleep. He tries not to, but his words become slurred and his eyes blink open slower and slower. In sleep, he looks so tenderly young. And very beautiful with those high cheekbones and pouty lips of his.

I want to pull over and pull him into my arms. I want to fall asleep with him curved around my body, with his palm cupping my breast. I've missed that so much.

Trying to bury my yearning, I sigh and keep driving. The beautiful fall leaves are all gone right now, and gray clouds are hiding the sun, but Edward's beside me and all is right with my world.

. . .

Sue's 15-year-old daughter, Teresa, has an obvious crush on Edward. Ever since she and her mom arrived early this morning, Teresa hasn't taken her eyes off of him for more than two minutes. Which means she's in the kitchen with me and Edward, or she's in the basement with me and Edward.

I can understand her fascination with him, but she's putting a definite crimp in our plans. Edward's trying to be magnanimous, but even I can see that he's starting to get impatient and angry by her attention.

"Teresa, do you mind going and telling my dad that we need butter and Cool Whip from the store? And maybe you could go with him, keep him company?"

Her expressive blue eyes darken with petulance, and I can tell she's going to shoot me down before she even opens her mouth.

"Please, Teresa? And if you could pick up a pack of mint Extra gum for me, I'd hug you," Edward says.

That changes her expression quick. She goes from sourpuss to rapture in two seconds flat.

"Anything for you, Edward," she says and races from the room.

I roll my eyes at him as he laughs.

After all three of them leave, with Sue and Dad holding hands, Edward and I fall in each other's arms and kiss like we've been separated for days instead of just hours.

"That girl is a hellacious pest," he says as he kisses his way up my neck to my lips. "Doesn't she have an iPhone she can play on? Barbies she can play with? A fire to start?"

I gasp and laugh, because he's kissing me like he's thirsty and can't get enough.

"Can't you give her a job? Make her chop an onion?"

His fingers are scooting their way down the back of my jeans, and mine are under his shirt against his skin. He's hard and hot and sil—"

"Um? Bella?"

Edward and I break apart to see Teresa gaping at us.

"Um, your dad wants to know what kind of butter to get?"

My heart is roaring like the ocean in my ears.

Edward springs at her.

"Don't say anything, Teresa. Don't say a thing about what you've seen, understand? Tell me you understand."

She nods dumbly and stumbles back against the wall. The t-shirt she's wearing is fisted in her hands, and she looks just moments away from tears.

"Tell me the words, Teresa."

I want to step in and pull him back, because I can see he's frightening her, but I can't move. I'm paralyzed with shock and horror and fear.

"I-I-I won't tell. I understand."

But it's clear that she doesn't understand from her expression. Her eyes are big bruises of shock and her face is pale.

Edward bows his head in front of her and I fall to my knees beside him. We're all but at Teresa's feet at this hellish moment.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "But we love each other. Will you … please … keep our secret?"

She nods. She looks too scared to say anything.

I raise my hand to touch her shoulder, but she shrinks away from me and I just want to sink into the ground.

"Tell my dad … Land of Lakes stick butter," I whisper.

And she turns and runs.

Edward and I look as bloodless as Teresa.

"I knew she was going to be a problem," he says woodenly. "But I didn't know how just much of one."

"Is she going to tell?" I ask him and step close for a hug. His arms encircle me tightly.

"I don't think so. At least, not right away."

I still feel like crying, but I … just can't. I'm frozen. "What are we going to do?"

He cups his hands around my face. His gaze is softly fierce. "If we have to, we're going to deny anything and everything, Bella. If she says anything, it will be her word against ours. We can be more convincing in a lie than she can in the truth. Dad knows how close we are. What Teresa saw could easily be misconstrued."

My chest is slowly loosening. "What did she see?"

"She saw me holding your hand under the water. You, my sweet clumsy one, cut your finger, and your big brother was babying you."

And he lifts my hand and nicks my forefinger before I know what he's doing. It happens too fast to sting. Or maybe I'm still numb from shock.

Like he did for me years ago, Edward bandages my finger with a kiss.

"Are you with me, Bella?"

Until I answer, he looks terrified and lost. "All the way, every step," I say firmly, and hold my hand against his face.

"I won't lose you," he says brokenly.

"You won't."

"We have to put our game faces on," he tells me. "You have to act like you were before Teresa saw us."

I nod. "Goofy-drunk to have you home, and a slave-driver in the kitchen."

He smiles a little. "Can you do it?"

"Absolutely. I'm not going to lose you."

His chest raises and falls with a few quick breaths. "God, I love you."

I press the palm of my hand against his heart. "I know. Now … do you believe that I love you like you love me?"

It's a leading question that he doesn't get. He furrows his brows at me.

"I don't have to go out with the foreign exchange student from Italy, or the chess player, or the track running star to know that I'll lie to love and protect you, Edward."

His brow clears as he exhales long and slow.

"I'll do anything for you," I whisper fiercely.

He doesn't say anything. He can't. He just holds me tight against him until we have to separate and return to our socially-accepted roles.

. . .

I should feel horrible as I smile at Teresa across our Thanksgiving spread later that day, as I tease Dad about whether or not he can have pie unless he finishes his green beans, as I share what I'm thankful for this year—that Edward can be here with us—but I don't.

I'm in love, and nothing and no one is going to change that.

. . .

Later that night in my bed, we play devil's advocate.

"What if Sue believes her daughter, and Sue somehow convinces Dad?"

Edward shakes his head. "Sue has nothing to lose. We do. We win, every time."

"What do you think Dad would do if he found out?"

His eyes fill with tears as he looks at me. "It would break him, Bella. He can't ever find out, not while you're still at home."

But I don't think that matters much anymore. I'm eighteen, and an adult. What could he do, keep us apart? It would never work. Besides … besides, I don't think he'd try.

Would he?

"Are we ever go to tell him?"

His grip on my hand tightens. "Eventually. Years from now when it becomes clear that we're not dating anyone, and he's wondering … when we're going to settle down and have a family."

The dark gets darker. "Can we have a family?" I whisper.

"No," he whispers back. "We can live together, be together, but we can't have kids."

He rolls over to face me and the tears in his eyes roll down his cheeks. "Incest is illegal, Bella."

I don't feel illegal. Not even close. And the word incest is ugly. It doesn't describe us at all. It doesn't even begin to encompass what I feel for him. I'm beginning to hate that word like it's a poison.

"Would we get taken to jail?"

He turns his face into his pillow. He's openly sobbing, which tears my heart to pieces, and I press as close to him as I can get. I have no words of comfort, just my touch, my presence. And while I might not have always been as wise about our situation as he is, I'm here every inch, every instance, with him now.

He finally gets himself under control. I wipe his tears away with my fingers.

"We'd only get prosecuted, I think, if one of us claimed rape. But because we're both consenting adults, I think we'll be okay as long as we don't advertise who we really are. But as long as we're Dad's dependents, we don't have control yet. So he can't find out, Bella."

"He won't," I tell him.

"Do you understand about never having children?"

Before this moment, I'd never really even thought about kids. Or much about the future. It was all just a hazy tomorrow where things were somehow going to be the way I wanted them to be.

"You mean naturally? I can't, er, give birth?"

"No," he says and runs a finger across my cheek. His eyes are great pools of sorrow and regret. "Not ever. We'll have to use birth control every time, all the time."

"As long as I have you, I don't care," I tell him solemnly.

"You say that now, but what about ten years from now? We won't even be able to adopt."

I kiss the frown on his mouth. "I don't have my magic 8 ball on me, sorry. Anyway, what else can we do but take it one step at a time? Nobody knows what's going to happen until it actually does."

"I just don't want you to ever hate me."

"Why would you say that? I would never hate you, Edward, any more than you would ever hate me."

"I want to give you everything," he says. "And one day, you're going to want kids."

Like he does with mine so often, I kiss the knuckles on his hand and hear his breath catch. "Do you want kids?"

"Not right now. But … I'm pretty sure I would."

"Well, are you going to hate me because I won't be able to give you a kid?"

He pulls me to him and kisses me fiercely. "Never. Never."

"We'll have cats and dogs," I tell him as our legs tangle together under the sheets. "Maybe a ranch in the middle of nowhere with horses, cows and chickens."

He wrinkles his nose at me. "No chickens."

"What came first, the chicken or the egg?" I ask him.

"The egg, of course. We all have to come from something."

I giggle. "I'm light as a feather, but no one can hold me for long. What am I?"

"Mine," he says and kisses me deeply.

. . .

The rest of the Thanksgiving holiday passes uneventfully, but I notice that Edward is extra careful around me.

He doesn't give me any long, loving stares that twist my insides to knots.

When he passes me, he doesn't touch me.

There are no more heavy make-out sessions, which breaks my heart and something else.

On Friday, he goes out with old high school friends, including Emmett, and doesn't come home until one in the morning.

Alice, Rose and I watch chick-flicks and eat too much ice cream. They tell me stories about Jasper and Emmett, how sweet the guys are, how much in love they are. And they wonder if I'm ever going to give Raul, the Italian exchange student, a chance. Rose warns me that boys at school think I'm cold, and a prude.

As long as they leave me alone, I don't care. Not really. Can I help that none of them interest me, that the thought of touching or kissing them leaves me cold?

On Saturday, Dad and Sue take us girls to a Komets hockey game. Teresa and one of her girlfriends come. They whisper and stare at me, and I pretend not to notice.

On the other side of town, Edward goes to a party where I know there are girls there, girls who would do almost anything to get with him.

A week ago, I would have been hurt and angry, but now I'm all too painfully aware of why he's doing what he's doing. Or, not doing.

We're biding our time. Play-acting for Dad. For our friends. For everyone.

. . .

Bella's riddle answer for Edward: Breath

Do you think Bella and Edward are doing the right thing? s