. . . . .

I'd half-expected Edward's proclamation of needing to take a break was an empty one, but he was serious. No more night-time visits to my room, no more lazy afternoons in our meadow, no more kiss-interrupted study sessions where I studied his fantastic face more than my boring books.

No more anything.

In fact, he'd had Carlisle call the office and tell them that he'd be out of school for a while due to some kind of illness. Or at least that's what Alice explained to me at lunch the Monday after my flour-caked fit of anger.

I'd gone home after the episode and wrapped a new bag of flour with duct tape and carried on with the assignment as a single parent, pretending that I hadn't brutally murdered my first baby with a pen and my fist in the front seat of my truck.

Jake had kidnapped my truck the night he'd dropped me off and detailed the inside for me. The next morning when I'd gone out with the dust buster, I flung open the door to find it sparkling and cleaner than it had ever been under my ownership. I stood in the driveway with the door open for a long time, staring into the shiny, clean-smelling interior, not sure if I wanted to smile or start crying again.

. . . . .

For two long weeks, there was no Edward. I dreamed of him a few times, and more than once I'd woken up with a start, sure he was standing in my room, watching me sleep. But I could never be sure it wasn't just my imagination. I kind of hoped it was. It wasn't fair for him to get to see me, watch me, without me getting to see him.

I floated through the days, immersing myself in homework and studying, just waiting for his return.

And then, just as suddenly as he was gone, Edward was back. Well, mostly back. There was a new hauntedness about his eyes that crept in from time to time, but I pushed back the feelings of sadness it brought up in me and pretended everything was back to normal. He gave no real signs that it wasn't.

So I plunged back into our relationship, convinced that I could convince him of how sure I was. How steady and well thought-out my plan was. That I knew my options, knew everything those options meant and didn't mean, and that I accepted every positive and negative that came along with my decision.

I was a big girl. I was ready to move forward with my life. With what I wanted my life to be—me and Edward, together forever.

. . . . .

He was standing by my locker, dressed in a black turtleneck sweater that made his skin look even paler and his hair even more spectacular. I felt my grin growing as I walked up the hall and into his arms.

"Good morning, love." He handed me a paper cup, the warmth of it contrasting with the cool brush of his hand. "Thought you might want some coffee."

I nodded and took a gulp from the cup, feeling the scalding liquid run down my throat. It singed my tongue, but I was freezing from my drive into school.

"Thank you—it's so cold out there." I inadvertently shivered as I said it, my teeth rattling together.

He laughed at my chattering response and rubbed his hands up and down briskly on my shoulders, but the gesture only made me colder. I handed him a stack of books from my locker and cradled the cup with both hands.

We took our seats, but the teacher was late. While the rest of our class threw wadded up balls of paper and raucously teased and talked, I awkwardly turned to Edward. He'd been back for a week, but we hadn't broached the subject, and I was feeling a different kind of distance between us, despite his amiable return. "So, we're good?"

He looked up at me and managed a small smile. I knew he didn't want to talk about it, but I knew there was less of a chance he'd walk away from the conversation if I cornered him like this. "Sure. Good." He nodded, but I was unconvinced. I felt colder than before.

"Really good? Or just kinda-good?" I didn't want to push it, but I needed some answers.

"Fine, Bella. Everything is fine. I just had to come up with some answers. A plan."

"A plan?" Somehow that turn of phrase made me more nervous than I had been before.

"Sorry, bad choice of words," he shook his head as if to brush off the subject, but it didn't allay my fears. "Like I said, I needed some time to really think about what I was doing. What we were doing. Thank you for giving me that space." He patted my arm and I knew it would be hard to press him further.

Just then, the teacher struggled through the doorway, a stack of books tucked under her arm. She called out for everyone to return to their seats and turn to page 377.

I turned in my chair and flipped open my textbook to whatever page it fell to.

"A plan... What I was doing... What we were doing..." His choice of words and use of past-tense bothered me. Edward didn't ever choose words badly; he thought ten times faster than he spoke. I didn't know what to make of it. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye and saw he was looking out the window into the slightly swirling snow.

. . . . .