When I was in High School, our English teacher made us write a quote in all our textbooks. She didn't know who said it, but it was what he had said that mattered. Still matters.

'When you come to the edge of all the light, and you know you are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of the two things will happen – either there will be something solid to stand on, or you'll be taught how to fly.'

I always wondered why that quote never talked about falling. What if you were meant to fall, despite the faith?

And now I realize that before this, I never knew what faith meant.

Faith is in knowing that even if I'll fall, Edward will be there to help me stand up again.

––x––

I take a deep breath and look up into the mirror. I don't do it often. It reminds me of being in that room in the club. It reminds me of trading stripper heels for thigh high boots. It reminds me of overheated confined spaces that smell of booze, smoke and sex. It reminds me of putting layers and layers of make–up till I didn't recognize myself anymore. It reminds me of pretenses.

But now my face is bare. I feel naked.

Maria runs the straightener through my hair slowly. There isn't a heater here so the heat radiating from it feels nice on my face. It calms me a little.

I look up to see her reflection grinning down at mine.

"What?"

"What 'what'?"

"Why are you smiling at me?"

"Because you're taking such big steps in your life and I am proud of you."

My expression softens. "Thank you. You've been a great friend. And uh, thanks for doing this as well."

She shakes her head dismissively. "Oh please. It's nothing."

I smooth my hands down the powder blue dress she lent me for the evening. "This is really pretty."

"Well, you did say he liked you best in blue." She winks.

I sigh. She pulls the straightener one last time and then places it back on the counter. She leans against the mirror and takes out two shades of lipstick from the drawer. "This or this?"

I shrug. "Whichever is less slutty?"

She sighs and looks at me seriously. "Honey, you need to drop this scared–cat face. It's going to be fine!" she insists.

"I know."

"Then stop looking like you're two seconds away from throwing up."

"Maybe I am."

"Bella. Stop it. Tonight's going to be great."

"And if I screw up, I'm going to ruin everything."

"You need to stay positive and focus on the good part."

"Which is?"

"That Edward is a lovely guy who loves you so much. That he wants to declare his love for you to probably the most important people in his life. You're doing this for him. And you can do this. He wouldn't put you through it if he thought it's going to blow. I mean, you're only about to have dinner with your potential future in-laws. How bad can it be?"

––x––

A few minutes later, I'm standing out on the street as Edward's car pulls up. "Hey," he says, surprise coloring his tone.

"Hi," I say, closing the car door and putting on my seatbelt.

He doesn't start the car. He just stares. I squirm in my seat. "What? Why do you sound so surprised?"

He shakes his head, as if to clear it. "You have your hair up."

My brows furrow. "Huh?"

"I just…I'm so used to seeing it hang loose over your shoulders."

My hand involuntarily reaches up to my ponytail. "Too weird? It was Maria's idea. The hair–tie is giving me a headache already, though. I'm so not used to it."

He smiles a little. "Why did you make it, then?"

I feel my face heating up. "I don't know…I just…I…I should probably undo it. You're right. It does look kind of stupid."

Unlike me, he's casually dressed. Un-tucked white shirt with slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, top button undone and hair allover the place.

He reaches and takes both my hands in his, leaning over to kiss me. "I didn't say it was stupid," he whispers against my lips. "I just wondered why you felt the need to be uncomfortable all evening."

I shrug, blushing harder. "I wanted to look nice." This is embarrassing. "Decent." I take a deep breath. "That's why I had to borrow the dress. This is Maria's Sunday best." I wring my hands. "The dresses I have are too...slutty. I wish I had some decent shoes too. Maria's didn't fit me. I had to put on these stupid slip-ons and I know I look fucking ridiculous but I tried, ok? Can we go now?"

His face is a mixture of concern and sadness. I don't even know. So I look away from his piercing eyes, hoping he'd let it go.

"If I had any idea you were so concerned about looking like…this," he gestures at my attire, "I'd have taken you shopping or something. That's not to say that you don't look good now. You look utterly breathtaking, I swear. I just didn't know this was so important to you."

"Don't be silly. Why would you have to buy me a dress? I don't even like wearing dresses. You know that."

He opens his mouth to say something else, but snaps it shut just as quickly. I sigh. "We're getting late, Edward."

He starts the car.

––x––

The drive is spent in silence, except for whatever plays on the radio. Edward hums along a few tunes, and his relaxed, happy stance almost calms me.

Almost.

I remove invisible lint from my dress for what feels like the hundredth time when we finally pull up in the Cullens' driveway. Framed by trees and more trees, the entire driveway leading up to the house is something straight out of a postcard. It's so beautiful and huge and just as picture perfect as I knew it would be.

We start walking towards the house, and I find myself trying to picture a young Edward here, even though I know he lived somewhere else when he was little. It's just a place where he would…fit. The serenity, the peace, the beauty…all of it would complement him.

"What are you smiling about?" he asks me as he takes my hand.

"Just wondering if you grew up in a house like this."

"Nah. We had an apartment back then. My parents liked to travel a lot. It was more convenient."

"Oh. This house looks beautiful."

"Wait till you see the interior," he grins. "Mom went overboard."

My heart skips a beat as soon as he says it. We are mere feet away from the porch. All the anxiety I was trying to suppress comes back head on, forcing me to acknowledge it. I take a deep breath.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

He stops walking suddenly, so my hand in his tugs me back. "What?" I ask as I turn to face him.

"You don't have to do this."

"Backing out already?" I tease him, giving a small smile.

He steps closer and frames my face in his hands. I lean into his warm touch and sigh.

"All this…this dress and the hair and the makeup…and that stupid little clutch that can hold nothing…it's not who you are."

I close my eyes. "I just…I want them to like me."

"They will. They already do."

My eyes open. "No they don't. They can't. You told them what I did for a living before."

"I also told them that that doesn't define who you are as a person. And I want them to see that person. If I – or they – wanted a Barbie, Tanya would be the one standing here. Not you."

He reaches up and takes out my hair tie, putting it in his pocket and slightly messing up my hair while I stand there immobile. "I want them to know the woman I love. Not the woman you think they would love, because that's not who they would love." His brows furrow. "That didn't make sense, did it?"

I smile and swallow the lump in my throat. "No, it didn't. But I get the point."

"Then just be yourself. And if at any point you feel like you don't want to be here, let me know and we'll leave. No questions asked. Okay?"

"Okay. And stop worrying so much. Your hair will be grey before you know it."

He leans down and gives me a tiny peck, but I pull him closer by the lapels of his jacket, burrowing into his warmth. Dresses are very impractical for weather like this.

His hands move down my arms and rest on my lower back, and he kisses me with abandon. His tongue traces my lower lip and I just about forget my name.

"I love you," I say breathlessly when we break and he responds by moving his hands even lower and burying his face in my neck. My fingers twine in his hair, and I thrill at the feel of his rushing heartbeat against mine.

We're so lost in each other that we don't even hear the front door open.

"Do you two plan on coming inside anytime soon or should I just bring out the picnic tables?"

We break away like two teenagers caught making out outside the Principal's office. Without turning around to see who it is, I simply bury my flushed face in Edward's shoulder, embarrassed beyond belief. This is not how I wanted the evening to start.

"We'll be right in, Mom," Edward tells her, still holding me tightly.

"Wipe off that lipstick before you get in," she tells him before shutting the door.

But I do hear the smile in her voice.

"Well," Edward finally says, "that was unexpected."

I look up at his boyish grin. "And awkward."

He lets me go so he can wipe his face. We make each other as presentable as we can, and finally enter the house. I am immediately taken aback by how different it is from what I expected. There is a golden hue to everything because of the numerous lamps. The kitchen, instead of being bare and flawless, is actually rather messy. The walls are littered with not only art pieces, but also by random drawings that I presume must have been made (and stuck, judging by the haphazard tapes) by Sophie. Near the staircase, there is a huge pin-board with lots of family pictures attached. I am drawn to it immediately, so I let Edward's hand go and walk to it. There are so many pictures that I could practically trace Edward's entire life through this. Edward winning prizes, young Edward and his sister at the beach throwing handfuls of sand at each other, his graduation, their many vacations… and I am so distracted by all these perfect memories that I don't even notice his mother standing behind me till she clears her throat and startles me.

"Pretty fascinating, huh?"

I look at her kind eyes and can only nod in response.

She holds out a hand for me to shake, like this is some formal meeting. "It's really nice to meet you, Bella. Edward doesn't shut up about you."

I smile and shake hands with her. "It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Cullen. You have a lovely house. And I don't mean that as in an obligatory-conventionally-polite 'Oh your house is lovely, ma'am,' manner, but I'm genuinely impressed. Because I know a lot of people who give compliments for the hell of it, but –"

"I get it, Bella," she gently laughs.

My cheeks burn again. Stop with the word–vomit, dammit! "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Thank you, by the way. I am an interior designer and this is all my own doing, so it's always so nice to hear that." Her smile lights up her entire face.

"Where did Edward go?"

"He and his dad are setting up the table. That's how it has always been here. I cook, they serve. Come on, you must be hungry."

She starts walking towards the only other room on this floor, from where I can hear male voices and clinking cutlery.

"Oh and Bella?" She whirls around.

"Yes?"

"You really are just as beautiful as Edward said you were."

My smile just about splits my face in two, but is just as quickly wiped off when we enter and I meet the cold, judging eyes of Mr. Cullen.

––x––