I do not own Twilight and I suppose I don't own the idea for the next couple of chapters either.

Yesterday I got a review from someone called Aila. She complained that I haven't updated in.........a long, long time. She made a suggestion, and I really liked it. So her review is what the next few chapters will be based on. If any of you actually still check this story for updates, and you're glad to finally get one, thank Aila.

Chapter Eight

Chloë's POV (Sixteen years old)

I bite at my lip and take a deep breath, "Mom?"

"Yes?" she asks.

I'm standing in the kitchen doorway. Mom just walked into the kitchen to clean up, just as I knew she would; she's a little obsessive compulsive when it comes to the kitchen.

"Do you mind if my boyfriend comes over for dinner?" I blurt it out quickly as to get it over with faster.

Her hand freezes on the counter, "You have a boyfriend? And I'm only hearing about this now?"

"Um.....yeah."

"Of course he can come over. He has to come over! I have to meet him! And your dad's working today. What a shame, I'm sure he'd like to meet your first boyfriend," Mother shoots me a glare, "I'd have liked to have met him the moment you started dating........" she pauses in thought, "How long have you two been going out?"

"Not too long," I say. We've been together longer than this whole life, but we haven't been dating for too long. So I'm not technically lying, right?

She lets it go at that, seeming to understand that I'm not willing to give anymore details on that topic, "Well tell me about him. Is he athletic? How did you meet? At school? How old is he? Is-"

I cut her off, "He's not overly athletic, but he likes baseball. He's seventeen." Another half-lie, "And anything else you want to know about him you can ask him yourself."

"When is he coming over," she asks. She looks around the kitchen in horror, "I've got to get everything scrubbed down in time."

"He'll be over at 6:30."

Freya looks at the clock and shrieks, "Half an hour? I've got half an hour to get this house clean and prepare a suitable meal!?!"

"It's already clean Mom." And Edward's already upstairs, like he has been for the past eleven years. And it doesn't matter what you make, he'll find everything equally horrid.

"Yeah. Whatever." she shoos me out of the kitchen, "Go do something; if I've only got half an hour to get everything done, I can't have any distractions."

I start heading up to my room. That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

"Wait, Chloë. What's his name?"

I turn back to face her, "Edward."

"Edward," she murmurs it under her breath and nods.

I run up the stairs to my room, closing it behind me so she can't call me back down to ask me anymore questions.

I feel Edward's arms wrap around my waist. He places a kiss on the top of my head, "That went pretty well," he murmurs.

"Yeah," I agree, turning in his arms to face him.

He starts laughing quietly.

I send him a questioning look.

"Your mom is wondering if she has time to scrub the ceiling."

I let myself smile before a new thought steals it away, "Make sure you call me Chloë," I tell him. I've tried to get him to call me that all the time, but he constantly forgets and calls me Bella.

"Could you imagine how your parents would react?" He makes a face, "I'll be careful; I want to make a good impression."

"Good," I stand up on my tiptoes for a final kiss, "You need to go get ready. And don't forget to come in a car."

"I'm not stupid, Bella," he says, humor dancing in his eyes.

"I know," I say, "I'm just nervous."

"It'll be fine," he assures. He tightens the hug before releasing me and moving to stand by the window, "See you soon."

"Love you," I whisper.

"Love you too," he echoes before jumping out the window.

Ding dong.

I jump up and answer the door.

Edward is standing there on the porch, looking every inch like a Greek god, flowers in his hand.

I smile at him, "Come on in." We walk together into the dining room, "Mom's just finishing up the meal."

"I'll be out in a moment," she calls.

"She's got good hearing," Edward mutters.

"Yes," I whisper.

"What'd she make?" he asks quietly.

"Meatloaf," I say, smiling.

He groans, "Ugh. Cooked meat. Disgusting."

I giggle, trying to make my laughter as quiet as possible, "Try not to look too grossed out, okay? She worked really hard on that for you."

He sighs, "I'll try."

"Thank you," I tell him.

"No problem," he whispers, giving me a quick kiss.

Edward's POV

I hear Freya's light footfalls as she leaves the kitchen, carrying a tray of meatloaf in one hand, and a tray with corn and green beans in the other.

I can't wait to see this guy,she thinks, full of excitement. She walks into the room. Her eyes widen as she sees me for the first time, and she falls into memory.

Freya was going up to check in on Bella. Bella was only about seven. She threw the door open and saw me sitting on the floor next to Bella's bed. She only caught a glimpse of me before I was gone.

Again, three years later, she saw me for an instant sitting on Bella's bed before I disappeared.

Finally, about a year ago me laying beside Bella, singing to her in her sleep.

Freya's mind goes blank as she puts the food on the table in a daze.

Uh oh. I fidget nervously.

Suddenly thoughts return to Freya's mind and she says with utter conviction, "Something's not right here. You guys are keeping secrets from me, and I want to know them. Now."

I'm not making anymore promises. I broke the last one, and I hate breaking promises; even if it's only to random people I don't know.

I'll try to update soon, and since I have a lap top now, and my computer time isn't so limited, I probably will update within the month. But I promise NOTHING.

Sorry. Please don't hate me.