Disclaimer: Madam Meyer owns everything in the Twiverse.

A hearty thank you and big fat hug to my Beta, CassandraLowery, for the quick turnaround, especially during this busy and important week. MILLE GRAZIE!

Chapter 8: Rosalie

Bella's POV

I blinked at Rosalie-her wavy blonde hair, full red lips, orange leather jacket that only she could look good in-and thought for the second time today that I was having a psychotic break. This was too uncomfortable to be a dream but not quite scary enough to be a nightmare.

"May I come in, or do you typically receive visitors on the damn porch?"

Then again...

I stepped aside to let her in, noting how she rolled her eyes. Her designer perfume seemed to float around her in a cloud, giving her presence an even greater air of mystery. Her eyes roamed the living room, disgust and irritation rolling off of her in waves, and I prepared to ask why she was here.

"Bella, what the hell are you doing?"

I almost jumped out of my skin. "What do you... ?"

"With my brother." Her eyes zeroed in on me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Her increased volume startled me, but my disappointment that she wasn't Edward spurred me on. "I don't think that's any of your business."

Her eyes were frosty. "You're wrong."

"No," I stood my ground. "You're wrong if you think you can just strut in here and tell me what to do about my relationship with Edward."

"Oh Bella," she said. "You don't know me very well, do you?"

The chill that iced down my back prevented me from doing anything but shake my head stupidly.

My response amused her, and she began walking toward my kitchen. I remembered the knives were in there and was momentarily frightened. Then, recalling who she was and what she could do, I soon found them to be comforting by comparison.

"Bella." She frowned at the wallpaper. "Why do you think I'm here?"

The question had ping-ponged around my head since I opened the door, but only one semi-logical answer presented itself. "To kill me?"

She threw back her head and laughed, the full sound akin to a chorus of bells. "Please. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it months ago. Besides which, I was outvoted on that." She still seemed upset about it.

"Yeah, well." I palmed the back of my neck, not surprised to find it damp. "We don't always get what we want."

Her eyes flashed. "No, we don't."

I backed against the wall by the phone, and Rosalie noticed my retreat. She closed her eyes, looking very much like a Versace-clad statue of Aphrodite and apologized. "I'll start again," she said. "What are you doing about my brother?"

I hadn't found a suitable answer since the last time she asked, and she found my reticence unacceptable. "What are you waiting for?" she insisted.

"Waiting for?"

"It's like talking to a lamppost!" She shook her head. "For the life of me, I can't understand why he finds you so fascinating."

"You don't have to understand," I snapped. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Really?" The menacing smile was back. "You think your connection with Edward has nothing to do with me?" Although she was across the room, her rising anger pressed on me. "That's rich."

Her condescension was pissing me off. "Well, since you're making this your business, you tell me why I should lift a finger to do anything! As far as I can tell, Edward needs to come to me. He tried to leave me. He's the one who messed all this up."

"Oh god!" She roared so loudly that the salt and pepper shakers rattled on the table. "You are so sickening and insipid and..."

I saw red and advanced on her. "Who do you think you..."

"You show up out of nowhere, your blood beckoning to him as nothing on earth ever has, and somehow he manages not to kill you. I still don't understand how or why he didn't. Then he falls in love with you and finds, to our great surprise, that you love him too. He forces us to make nice with you and welcome you into our lives, despite the tremendous danger that puts us all in. Then James comes, which really wasn't his fault, and we all rally to save you. Hip, hip, hooray. Then after we throw you the worst birthday party in human history, he overreacts in typical Edward fashion, and you dump him!"

"Rosalie, I..."

"And then! After he somehow picks his bony, stubborn, heartbroken ass up off his bedroom floor where he spent the night crying and slobbering all over Esme, he comes back to school to fix it. And what do you do? You leave him...again!" She turned on me with eyes like golden lava. "So I have to ask you, Isabella, what the hell are you doing to my brother?"

Her voice had gotten so loud that it nearly popped my eardrums. I had a hand pressed against my chest to keep my heart from shattering. Her impatience mounted as I struggled again to find an answer.

Then something she said belatedly reached my brain. "He was crying last night?"

"It was awful," she sighed without pity. "I don't know how Esme stood it."

I sank into the chair. I can't believe he cried...

Rosalie studied my face. "You seem surprised."

My heart swelled with sympathy for his pain and a strong desire to kiss it all away, but I was stunned to discover that his night might have been as bad as mine.

I was reflecting on this when Rosalie exploded again. "Oh my god! You really are as clueless as I always thought!" She stalked over to me, somehow elegant despite her anger, and gripped the arms of my chair. "You honestly didn't think he was hurt by what you did?"

My mouth was dry but I forced out the words. "He said he was leaving me, and I..."

Rosalie unleashed a torrent of what I assumed were obscenities in several different languages; I only caught the English ones. After she'd run out of words, she took a deep breath and, surveying the room for the cleanest chair, she grabbed one and sat next to me. She ran her hands down her gorgeous face where they folded in front of her mouth, likely to keep her words in until she could speak calmly.

"Bella." I'd never seen her so enraged. "Do you know Edward?"

The question offended me. "Of course I do! I know him better than anyone."

Rosalie shook her head. "That can't be true. Because if you really knew Edward, you wouldn't have run from him yesterday."

I jumped from my seat and crossed the room. "You have no right to say that. You don't know what I went through yesterday."

"Maybe not," she shrugged. "But I know that whatever he did was prompted by what happened the other night."

The images were all too fresh in my mind, the raised scars on my arm still healing. "I know how that must have been for him, but..."

"No, you don't!" Her outburst scared me. "You have no idea what he went through. But I do." Her eyes were wistful. "I know what it's like to almost kill the one you love."

My mouth fell open, but I said nothing as she began rearranging the flowers on the table.

"When I found Emmett, the bear had left him in a terrible state: his entrails nearly exposed, deep gashes all over his body. But I knew I had to save him-he was too beautiful, too young to die. Somehow I thought we could make each other happy."

Her voice became ghostly. "But the blood running from the gash on his left arm was dripping all over me, staining my clothes and baiting the beast inside me. I tried to ignore it as it was no sweeter or stronger than any other human blood I'd smelled. But it was on me, coating me, caressing me. I was miles away from home or anyone else. No one would have known. He might have been grateful for death. After all, how did I know he wanted to become a monster like me? And as I paused in my trek home, I licked my lips at the thought of it, of saving this man from a frozen forever and satiating my sudden thirst in one bite into his lovely flesh. And in that instant, I wanted to kill Emmett.

"But I didn't. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and carried him back to Carlisle. I'll never forget Edward's wide eyes when I walked into the house. He'd heard the struggle in my mind. And he knew that I'd won. And though he never said a word, I was grateful that someone knew what I had survived."

She came back to the present, her eyes less hostile. "When you fell into that table, for all Edward's love for you and his desire that you stay human, the savage inside of him wanted nothing more than to suck you dry." I shuddered at her terminology. "No one understood that moment the way I did. No one knew the self-loathing or shame he felt, knowing how badly he wanted to take your life. But I did. That's why when he returned to the house and Alice let it slip that he was leaving, I affirmed his decision. Everybody thought it was because I don't like you. But Edward would have known the truth."

This was a lot to take in. Seeing Rosalie and Emmett together now, I never would have imagined that she ever felt that way. But she was a vampire, and he had been a bleeding human. As perverse as it sounded, her urges were natural.

Just as Edward's were at the sight of my blood.

"I never blamed Edward for his reaction at the party," I said.

"No, but he blames himself," she said. "And that's what you need to understand. Any time he puts you in danger, he's going to freak out, blame himself, and do something stupid because that's Edward. And knowing him means you ought to know that."

I bristled at her bluntness but changed the subject. "Why do you dislike me? Did I do something to you?"

"Not yet," Rosalie whispered. "But I'm so afraid you will."

I stammered in confusion, and Rosalie sighed. "Don't you understand? Our family revolves around Edward. I hate to admit it, but that's the truth. And ever since that day in the cafeteria, Edward has revolved around you. After almost a century of rejecting every female-vampire and otherwise-who expressed any interest in him, he found his mate in you, in a human who can change her mind as quickly as she changes her hair color." She paused to frown at my plain brown locks.

"He worries that you might someday wish you would have chosen a flesh-and-blood man to love. Part of him would prefer that. That's why he fights you becoming one of us. Not because he doesn't want you forever. It's because he wants your life to be as beautifully human as possible. He would rather you make your choice after you experienced more of the world. That way he could trust your certainty.

"But that isn't what worries me." She glowered. "What worries me is what will happen if you break Edward's heart because of who and what he is. He laid himself bare for you, showed you all he is, and you said you loved what you saw. If he were to lose you now, for being who he's always been, he might say he could take it, but I know better. Losing you would kill him, destroy his only reason for being. And if Edward died, our family would die too. Just as he cannot live without you, we would not survive without him."

Her solemn prediction pierced the core of my heart, and I could feel myself bleeding internally. Then she narrowed her eyes.

"You swear up and down you want to become one of us, that you're ready for immortality. But the first time Edward disappoints you, you bail on him. You think I don't want to club Emmett with a felled oak once every few weeks? That Alice doesn't want to throttle Jasper for one reason or another? Hell, even Esme threatens to drop Carlisle into a volcano once a year! But even with those skirmishes, we never bail on each other...never."

My voice quavered, but Rosalie ignored it. "So why is it okay that Edward tried to leave me?"

"It's not okay." She leaned forward, and her voice hardened. "It is in no way okay, and had I thought it would do any good, I would have beaten some sense into him before he had the chance to say anything to you about it."

"So why didn't you?"

"I told you. I understood his desire to protect you even if it meant breaking your heart in the short run. Besides, it was the first definitive decision Edward had ever made about you, and I chose to respect his resolve."

"So here you are," I sighed. "Blaming me."

"Blaming you?" She shook her head and groaned. "Have you not heard anything I've said?"

"I've heard everything you said!" I shouted, angry again. "And you think this is all my fault."

"No!" she yelled back. "The only thing I blame you for is your decision to abandon him in class today. Everything else I understood."

I saw little point in repeating that it was none of her business either way and chose to appreciate her minimal support.

"Bella," she continued through my silence, "Edward's 'leave her to save her' idea was stupid and ridiculous and the opposite of helpful. But that's Edward. And just like I have to accept Emmett's terrible jokes, and Alice has to accept Jasper's ironically stoic nature, and Esme has to accept Carlisle's...whatever, you have to accept Edward's tendency to overreact and make terrible snap decisions."

It was too much to absorb, and I frowned as my head tried in vain to do it. But my complete confusion was the last thing Rosalie wanted to see.

"And see? Here again is the other reason I can't stand you. You're brave enough to hang around our family unafraid but reckless enough to walk away from Edward without realizing the damage you've done. Your blood and scent call out to him every moment he's with you, and even more strongly since he tasted you in Phoenix. Yet he refuses to take you, refuses to give in to his blackest impulses, and you still worry that he's going to get tired of you."

My greatest fear sounded wrong and silly coming out of her mouth.

"Why the hell would he do all that for someone he could tire of? Why would he put himself and his entire family through the daily torture of resisting you if he didn't love you? For shits and giggles? To kill a few decades?"

"I thought he felt sorry for me," I mumbled.

She scoffed. "If he had felt sorry for you, he could have drained and dumped your body on day one."

My face paled, and her hand flew to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry. That was crude, even for me."

She watched the color attempt to return to my cheeks as her chagrin lingered in the air. As a peace offering, she went to my refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of apple juice. Before I could rise to grab a glass, she set one in front of me. I thanked her as I poured.

"I don't hate you, Bella," she said after my third sip. "But I like my life right now. After several decades, I finally feel content. Truth be told, I'm thrilled Edward has found a mate. I can't imagine what it was like for him all these years: a virgin telepath living with three married couples with insatiable appetites and nothing else to do at night." She smiled at a private memory, and I looked away.

"But now that you're here, he's happy. Happier than all of us combined, I think. You somehow bring out the best in him, and that's beautiful. But he's so afraid of losing you, of ruining the one life he values above everything else, and that fear brings out the absolute worst in him. And the worst in him always results in the worst for me. I'm not trying to be selfish, Bella, but I can't help what I see. And all I see is that you don't understand Edward, and because of that, you could destroy our family."

Rosalie's final one-two punch knocked the wind out of me, and I set the glass on the table, grateful it didn't shatter.

She thought I didn't understand Edward? How could anyone think that?

No one understood his kindness, his selflessness, his generosity of spirit better than I did. No one saw the purity of his soul, the innocence in his perspective, the goodness in his heart more clearly than I did. No one realized how hard he tried, how ferociously he protected, how deeply he loved better than I did.

Yet I am the one who left him.

Twice in two days.

The shameful irony slapped me across the face, and I hid my head in my hands.

I did understand Edward; I knew him better than he knew himself. But his attempt to leave forced me to face what I had always believed, and despite his explanations to the contrary, the only reason I could fathom for his departure was that he didn't love me. No matter how many times he'd said otherwise, no matter how many good reasons he gave me, I was too afraid to look past them and see the truth.

Edward did love me.

Edward loved me enough to save me from anything that could hurt me.

Including himself.

A Bible verse my grandma used to recite came to mind: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

Edward couldn't lay down his life for me; he was already dead. So if he believed my life was in danger, his only choice was to leave me.

The truth hit me like a bolt of lightning: he was leaving because he loves me.

Edward loves me.

Suddenly the events of the last twenty-four hours seemed entirely different: Edward didn't visit, call, or contact me after I ran not because he didn't love me, but because I'd just told him that loving me means respecting my wishes.

I had told him goodbye, and he respected it. Although it broke his heart, he respected it.

But then today...when I thought it was all over for us, he came back. My darling Edward came back to me, his golden eyes vibrant with love...

And I ran away.

Again.

What kind of message did that send?

"Oh my god!" I jumped up from the table, almost toppling the chair. "What the hell am I doing?"

"Guess my work here is done."

I looked at Rosalie, having completely forgotten she was there, and with my heart beating frantically in my chest, I threw my arms around her. "Thank you for being such a... for being you."

She didn't move at first, but she patted my back twice. I realized I'd never so much as shaken her hand before and retreated in embarrassment. I wiped my streaming eyes and tried to compose myself.

We walked to the door in silence, and I noticed her car wasn't outside. "How did you get here?"

"I followed Edward to school on foot in case he goofed up and made things worse. But when I saw your truck peeling out of the parking lot after first period, I called an audible. That reminds me," she turned back, "don't tell Edward I was here."

"I won't, but doesn't Alice already know?"

"I blackmailed her into silence," she said ominously. I didn't even want to know how she'd managed that.

Rosalie reached the bottom of the steps and turned back. "I hope you know this doesn't change anything." When I raised my eyebrow in question, she smirked. "I still don't like you."

"I still don't expect you to."

She laughed again, and after making sure no one was looking, she sped off into the forest. After watching her dust dissipate for a moment, I closed my door, grabbed my bookbag, and ran upstairs to my bedroom, hoping for once that Alice was paying close attention.

Okay, those who feel Rose was out of line, remember Rose's opinion and Bella's decisions are not necessarily the same thing.

What do you think? xo