. . . . .

The next day at school, things were awkward and strained with Edward.

I hadn't seen him since the night he and Jake had fought. He'd been out of school and then away hunting ever since, and I'd decided not to bring up that night and just follow his lead. I'd rather he forget what I'd done rather than try and explain what I'd been thinking.

But this might be worse than trying to explain my inexplicable actions. He wasn't making eye contact with me and he looked forlorn.

I'd tried to ignore his mood all through classes, but I was feeling a heavy sense of dread by the time our last class let out.

Edward walked me to my truck without comment. He pulled away stiffly when I reached up to hug him goodbye.

I sighed and stared at the damp pavement. This wasn't going well. He put his hand against my cheek, and I looked deep into his eyes, wordlessly. I didn't know what I saw there, but it wasn't the love I'd come to expect to see shining back at me.

"I feel like you're pulling away, Edward." My voice was quiet, weak. I felt my heart thud in my chest.

Edward clenched his jaw once, twice, then met my gaze. "I'm not pulling away. I'm just… giving you space."

"I didn't ask for space." I pushed back, annoyed at his ever-paternalistic treatment.

"I know. But I think you need some space, and I'm not sure if you'd ask."

"You're right. If I needed or wanted space, I wouldn't ask you. I'd tell you. So stop trying to read my mind and wait until I tell you how I'm feeling." I could tell my frustration was bubbling to the surface, and my words were tinged with bitterness. I took a deep breath before softening my tone. "Once upon a time you told me I'd need to do that—need to tell you what I was thinking—so I've known that from day one. I've tried to do it so there isn't any confusion, and I wish you'd respect it."

He nodded and tucked me into a tight hug, but I knew the worry wasn't over even though the conversation was. Things just weren't right, and I didn't know how to fix it.

Frankly, I was getting tired of trying.

. . . . .

Charlie was staring at me over our dinner plates.

"Yes?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he was thinking, but the staring was unnerving me.

"Is everything going ok? You know, with that Cullen boy?"

I stabbed at a grape tomato and it squirted out from under my fork and escaped my salad bowl. I heard it drop to the floor. I debated chasing it; diving under the table where it had landed and staying there until Charlie went up to bed.

Instead, he plunged on.

"I've just noticed that you've been spending a lot more time with Jake lately."

"Dad, are we really going to talk about this?" I hoped the diversion would push the conversation off of the track. I didn't like the direction it was going. I didn't want to think about this right now. Maybe not ever. I was sick of thinking about it.

"I don't need any specifics. I was just wondering."

"Everything's fine, Dad."

Charlie gulped down a bite of hamburger and set down the rest. I looked up to find him staring directly at me, which was rare for Charlie. "I just want you to be happy, Bells. I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately with school and all the stuff you do at home. You know, I was young once, too. I remember what those first relationships are like."

"Daaaad…" I groaned and put my hand over my face.

"No, really, Bella. It's important that you cut yourself some slack. You're just a kid. You have a lot of life left to live—all of it, really. I want you to take time to be young and have fun. You're a serious kid; I know that. You get that from me. But it's ok to not be so serious about everything all the time. You still have the luxury of exploring your options, and I hate to see you settle down without knowing everything that's open to you. Your mother made that mistake with me, and she was miserable for a lot of years."

I fidgeted. My parents' failed relationship was not what I wanted to discuss with my dad over dinner.

But Charlie battled on. "I'm glad you've been pulling away a little from Edward. It's good to reevaluate everything before you make any big decisions or narrow down where you're going or who you're going to be." He paused, assessing my pained expression. "Ok. End of speech."

He reached out and patted my hand. I smiled a half-smile at him, knowing I should be grateful that he cared.

"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it. But I know what I'm doing. No one is forcing me to do anything. I'll be ok."

"I know you will, Bells. You get that from me, too." Charlie smiled and pushed his chair back. "Now, how about dessert? We could drive over and grab some ice cream?"

He didn't have to ask twice. I put our plates in the sink and beat him to the cruiser.

. . . . .

"Dad?" I'd pulled away from the conversation earlier. But now I realized I had questions. Questions that might be best answered by Charlie.

He looked up from the newspaper.

I scooted to the edge of the couch and took a deep breath to steel myself.

"How did you know Mom was the one? I mean, at the time?"

His eyes got big and he opened and closed his mouth silently a few times. Then he turned down the basketball game and looked up at the ceiling. Finally, just when I'd become concerned that my question had gone too far and sent him into a catatonic state, he looked at me and sighed.

"Well, now, that's a good question. It's hard to explain. I guess…I guess I just felt it. I was pretty quiet and reserved—I bet you can't imagine that—and I didn't have a lot of experience with women. But your mom brought out a side of me that no one else did. She was my perfect opposite in ways that made sense, but she understood me better than anyone else. We just clicked. She made me happy in a way that no one else ever had. Or ever has since, I guess."

I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to. "Is that why you never remarried?"

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Wow. Um, well, yeah. Marriage is a big commitment. It should be forever. But it can only be forever—and happy forever—if it's with the right person at the right time. Rushing into something or trying to force it with the wrong person will never end well. I guess that your mom was the right person for me, but I was the wrong person for her. Or maybe I was the right person at the wrong time. Heck, I may have even been the wrong person at the wrong time."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"Basically, Bells, I just never found someone who was the right one at the right time. So I didn't push it. I'm happier by myself, anyway."

I nodded. It made sense, even though I was experiencing the opposite problem: I'd found two right people at the same right time. It seemed oddly unfair that my dad had never found one and I was juggling two.

"Is this about Jake and Edward?"

I didn't look up. I couldn't.

He sighed. "I know I've been hard on Edward, but they're both good guys, and they'd both take good care of you. I'm not saying you have to choose the one now that you'll be with forever—you're much too young for that. But if you have to pick one now, choose the one that makes you feel like the best version of yourself. You'll never be sorry if you do that."

. . . . .

Edward. Jake. Edward. Jake. Edward. Jake.

My mind changed with every tick of the clock.

How was I supposed to choose? How was I supposed to know what course to set myself on?

One way was certain, or so I'd thought. Since the moment I met Edward, I'd known we were meant to be together. His lifestyle, what he was—what all of the Cullens were—called to me. I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be beautiful, graceful, fast, strong, immortal. I wanted to be Edward's and be with Edward forever.

But there was that other possibility, the one that's existence I'd ignored for so long. The choice that was dark, exciting, warm. The path that led to Jacob. I knew he loved me. I'd always known it. And I'd always ignored it and pretended that we could go on forever, just being friends. But now it was becoming obvious that 'just friends' wasn't going to work for us. Wasn't working for us. Because that one starry night I'd crossed that imaginary line I'd drawn, the one between friendship and love. And what I'd found across that boundary was beautiful, sweet and surprising.

Perfect.

So much about Jacob was perfect. But not all perfect. Perhaps most surprising was that it was exactly those imperfections that drew me. With Jacob, I didn't have to be perfect, either. I didn't look in the mirror and see more of my flaws after being with him. I didn't hear the words I spoke and cringe. I didn't feel clumsier with him, or see myself as damaged when I looked at myself through his eyes. I didn't have to change who I was to be with him.

He wanted me the way I was. The way we were. Already. Now. Forever. Or at least as forever as humans could have.

Humans.

I sighed at the word. Was I changing my mind about wanting to change who I was?

. . . . .