Work was insane and exploitative, and I ended up quitting. Real life does come first, but I'm committed to seeing this story through. Thanks to Fran, for the endless encouragement.

This is the second-to-last installment before the end of Part 1.


"My grandmother is coming," Edward announced, the way one might announce the presence of a recurring infection, and Bella's stomach sank with dread. "To graduation."

They were playing with a Wii console – a gift from Edward's grandmother, incidentally.

Bella wrinkled her nose, intense dislike brewing in the pit of her stomach. Bella held her personally responsible for everything Bella hated in Edward: his light disdain for others, his arrogance, his $300 dollar Rolex and his recurring depression. Carlisle's mother – Victoria Cullen- was an East Coast heiress that still wore pearl-string necklaces and stiff-shouldered blazers. Carlisle was her only son, and Edward was her only grandson.

"The one that gave you the BMW?" Bella asked sullenly.

"No, the one that died in '96," Edward snapped.

Offended, Bella had dropped her Wii stick into her lap, glowering.

As far as Victoria was concerned, the sun rose out of Edward. When Edward turned 12 in 2001, Victoria had shipped the very first X-boxes, which were then worth a small fortune. When Edward turned thirteen, Victoria had given him an ATV to roam around in the Cullen's state in upstate Maine. When Edward turned fourteen, Victoria had floundered and given him a computer. Bella had seen Edward throw a tantrum because the gift was subpar. Not one to be outdone, Victoria had gotten Edward a BMW "to go with his learner's permit."

Bella believed Lizzie died because a fifteen-year-old boy had been given a car that could go from 0 to 60 in as many seconds. Carlisle seemed to agree: Victoria hadn't seen her son or her grandson in four years - and had been expressly banned from Lizzie's funeral.

Bella pursed her lips. "And you're OK with that?" she asked gently, ignoring his outburst.

"She sent me a Rolex last year," Edward muttered disinterestedly, flexing his wrist.

Bella rolled her eyes so far back she was sure she'd see her brain. She huffed.

"Is your Dad OK with this?"

"He's pissed," Edward muttered. "But it's not like the old bitch –"

"Edward!" Bella hissed.

Edward ignored her "- is to blame."

"Don't call people bitches," Bella insisted disgustedly. "And I think she was stupid enough to give a fifteen-year-old boy a sports car – "

Edward's fury accelerated as quickly as his erstwhile car. "Fuck, Bella," he barked, slamming his hand against the sofa. "I kept egging my mother on to take the car out in the middle of a hailstorm."

Bella bristled. "She gave you the car," Bella muttered darkly, eyes shining with conviction.

"Fucking drop it, Bell."

With a screech of her Mii to match her irritation, Bella hurled her Wii stick at Edward's lap.

Bella could think of plenty of things she'd prefer over Victoria Cullen, and she found Botox injections preferable. She'd received plenty of such Botox injections, and had ended up with localized muscle weakness, bouts of flu-like symptoms, and even bruising.


To everybody's surprise but Bella's, Edward made Salutatorian. Bella knew Edward had tried – desperately and to little avail – to get out of speechmaking. Bella had the strong suspicion that Edward had slept with the valedictorian (Miss Spencer Hastings), which is why Bella had made it her personal mission to fetch her speech. Bella's suspicion was confirmed at Spencer's evident scorn. Bella spent hours listening to Edward's speech drafts. "I sound like a pussy," Edward would moan grumpily after every sentence. "I think it's great," Bella would say defensively, eyes sparkling playfully.

Despite the disgust swirling in her stomach, Bella did exactly as she was told. Obediently, Isabella let Esme doll her up - "I think you're old enough for a bit of mascara" - and pick her clothing. Esme had selected a pair of heart-shaped, sapphire-tipped earrings and a matching, lapis-colored dress with a sweetheart neckline and short sleeves.

"You look like a doll," Esme cooed, touching her fingertip to Bella's delicately bridged nose. "You're so beautiful."

"God, Mom," Bella whined, despite feeling secretly pleased. Desperately, she wanted to look pretty for Edward – and the army of people that believed Edward's relationship with Bella was rooted in pity.

"You do," Esme crooned.

Grumpily, Bella threaded her arms into her crutches and stood. The elegance of the ensamble was undercut by the sturdy braces helping hold her up. No matter what she did, sweat would build in the crevices where her bare skin met the calve shells. In her usual, evidently crippled and uneven gait, she made her way to the car.

The car was stifling as the Swans made their way to Carlisle's. Despite the AC firing on all cylinders, sweat was beading underneath Bella's chignon and on her temple. The matter became worse as the Swans made their way to the makeshift auditorium that had been built on the soccer field. Hundreds of foldable chairs stood underneath an equally stifling marquee that looked blindingly white under the scorching sun. Bella hadn't wanted to take her wheelchair that day, and so she made her way across the gravelly, flat grass with some difficulty. They had arrived earlier than most graduates, in part because Bella insisted.

By the time they made it to the marquee, Bella was bright red and breathing heavily. Tendrils of her damp hair stuck to her forehead. The neckline of her dress was embarrassingly damp. Esme pulled out Kleenex from her purse, and Charlie rushed to fetch a water bottle. Their seats were in the front row, on the far left by the podium, not because Edward was Salutatorian, but because Bella needed them.

Uncharacteristically, Esme was nervous. The outlet for her nerves was nitpicking on her family's appearance. "I really wish you had let me pluck your ear hair, sweetheart," Esme said, studying Charlie's ears the way an art student would a painting. Bella, who had seen hairier ear canals, privately disagreed with Esme's battle against Charlie's nose-and-ear hair.

Bella wrinkled her nose.

"That woman is not going to be looking down my goddamned ears," Charlie muttered, glowering at his wife.

"She looks at everything," Esme tittered.

"Relax, honey," Charlie said moodily. "That woman always liked you better."

"Not until after," Esme retorted back, in a low, scandalized whisper, looking pointedly at Bella. "She hated me."

Charlie pursed his lips in an uncharacteristically icy expression.

Edward found them in that state. Skipping the tie, Edward wore a white t-shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and dark aviators. He held his suit jacket disgustedly with one hand. Like Bella, he was covered in a thin sheath of sweat. Unlike Bella, he looked ridiculously attractive. Feeling heat pool in her cheeks, Bella looked away when he winked at her.

"Put on your suit jacket, Edward," Esme half-begged, half-screeched in horror.

"I'm going to suffocate to death," Edward retorted. "The weather feels like Satan's asshole."

Charlie let out a strangled half-laugh, half-grunt, and Bella laughed.

"Where's your graduation robe?" Esme insisted fitfully. "You should put that on."

Edward gave her a pointed look, one that screamed "Not-before-I-must."

"You feel OK about the speech?" Bella interrumpted.

"Christ, don't fucking remind me," Edward grumbled. "I need to go find Mr. Bertie and rehearse it with um – " he cleared his throat "- Spencer."

Bella's shoulders fell.

He looked around sheepishly, half-ashamed. Charlie, who was looking at them through slitted eyes, made a strange croak of protest that reminded Bella of his earlier bouts with indigestion.

Edward stood, tucking hair behind Bella's ear as he went. "Oh, Christ, my grandmother's coming."

"There's my little prince!" Victoria said jovially, extending out her arms.

To hide her cackle, Bella bit down on her lip.

"Hey, grandma," Edward said sullenly, giving her one of those sheepish, lopsided grins that made Bella's stomach flip.

"You've become such a handsome young man," Victoria all-but sniffed, eyes aglow. "And so brilliant." She pressed a fine-boned, wrinkled hand to his cheek.

Edward grinned cockily, and Bella slammed her hand against her forehead.

"I got you a little something," Victoria said airily, fishing something out a clutch, crocodile-skin purse. She pulled out a small jewlery box, and Victoria whispered conspiratorially. "These silver cufflinks belonged to my grandfather, Randolph Hockley – and I wanted you to have them."

Bella was long used to the Cullen-Masen ostentatiousness, but her mouth still popped open in shock. Victoria Cullen née Hockley was handing out priceless cufflinks –- a fact that compelled Edward to roll down his sleeves – in the middle of a stiflingly hot marquee. She placed them expertly on Edward's cuffs, her eyes watering with tears.

Edward looked at his sleeves with a mixture of cocky satisfaction and deep apprehension.

"Where's Esme?" Victoria said suddenly, her brilliant smile turning brittle. "I thought she'd be – oh, there you are, dear."

Dragging Charlie along, Esme had stood and circled around the first three rows, disturbing half the staff. The two women embraced by kissing on both cheeks. Bella thought they looked like mirror images of one another. Both were rail thin. Both wore impeccable updos. Both wore silky summer dresses adorned with discreet jewelry, and both had that unmistakable air of having been born and bred as East Coast elites.

"This is my husband, Charles," Esme continued. Bella knew Charlie hated being addressed by his full name, but her father hid it well. Charlie and Victoria shook hands.

"Ah, yes, the District Attorney," Victoria said, offering a charming smile. "It hasn't been that long, Esme, dear, I remember. And – his – little girl - your daughter?"

Unfailingly polite, Bella turned in her uncomfortable folded chair, holding out her hand "Hello, Mrs. Cullen."

"Hello," Victoria said half-dismissively, barely sparing Bella a glance. "Where is she? I thought the poor child was severely disabled."

Edward's expression became thunderously dark, outstripping Charlie's in its intensity. "This is Isabella," he half-interrupted her, in a chilling snarl.

Victoria blinked, looking flummoxed. "Oh," she said, turning to look at Isabella. She wore her embarrassment poorly, unused to the sensation. "Please do excuse me. Isabella. You've grown up."

"Yes, she has," Carlisle cut in dryly, materializing behind Victoria and looking irritated – much like his son. "Let's get you to your seat, mother." At this, he pointedly offered his arm, which Victoria took. She was still staring avidly at Isabella.

Waving weakly, Esme dragged Charlie away.

"The girl takes after the mother, doesn't she? The fashion model?" Victoria asked Carlisle, not five steps from Isabella – who almost fell out of her seat. It was the first piece of information she had ever heard about her birthmother, and not for lack of trying. The tidbit of information struck Bella with a jolt of adrenaline, and her heart started to pound.

Bella and Edward exchanged bewildered looks.

"Christ, mother, not now," Carlisle said, sounding endearingly like Edward. He punctuated his statement with a sharp shushing.

"What the fuck?" Edward wondered out loud.

They did not have much time to dwell on the matter: Charlie and Esme had circled around, back to their seat.

"Your grandmother's a piece of work, kid," Charlie half-grumbled sympathetically.

"Thanks, sir," Edward said, looking so wholesomely pleased that Bella lit up. That was the Edward she loved best.

Smiling wryly, Bella rolled her eyes playfully at Edward. She wanted his bad mood to dissipate. She tugged at his sleeve, edging him closer. "Good luck with your speech," she whispered. "You'll ace it. Just like you ace everything else. Go."

Edward bent abruptly bent at the waist. Gently, he kissed Bella's cheek. "Thank you for helping me with it," he murmured. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The tidbit of knowledge about her mother felt a bombshell exploding underneath her. Bella had a bigger priority at that moment, however: Edward, her dearest friend.

Bella noticed Edward was nervous in the staccato of his knees, and in the way he fidgeted with his cufflinks. Her stomach was churning as she recited every sentence in her brain. It's OK, she wanted to convey when their eyes met. You're so worthy of everything good. When Edward finally got up to make his speech, he looked determined, icy and confident. She knew his eyes were on her, and whenever she smiled, Edward relaxed.

Edward began his speech in a voice that was deep, certain and poised. A woman to Bella's right, doubtless somebody's mother, swooned.

And Bella felt desperately, overwhelmingly in love.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed faculty members, proud parents, and my fellow graduates..."


Victoria was the first person to claw at Edward when the ceremony was over.

Bella could see it from her perch, peeking past a throng of graduates and similar hugs. She threw her arms around him, her eyes rimmed red. Edward patted her awkwardly on the back, then proceeded to hug his father and his aunt – hugs Bella knew would be more meaningful than any other. When he hugged his father, Edward shut his eyes tightly. Bella's heart ached at the poignancy of Lizzie Cullen's absence.

Senator Masen – who was, much like his grandson, being accosted by a range of well-wishers – was the last of Edward's blood relatives to give him a hug. The elder Edward clapped his grandson's back, looking solemn and proud. Edward's family and relatives had formed a half-circle around him- Around that circle, Edward's football team – including the quarterback himself – had formed a queue. Lauren, Spencer Hastings and Tanya were standing a few yards from the crowd, feigning disinterest but casting looks in Edward's direction.

Edward's eyes found Bella's right after Charlie shook his hand. Rudely, Edward cut through the concentric circles of well-wishers, making a beeline. Beaming, he grinned at Bella – and then barreled towards her. Instinctively, Bella threw her arms around his neck. She yelped when he lifted her from her seat – gentle, yet firm – and spun her round in a circle.

"That was so cheesy," Bella teased mischievously, the laughter dying in her throat

Edward laughed. "Fuck you," he replied lightly, nuzzling her cheek. "You wrote the shit."

Bella had mouthed every word with him, every sentence – nodded encouragingly at every pause, and felt like flying when the audience had laughed on cue.

"And the delivery - terrible."

"Smart ass," Edward bit playfully, setting her gently on her feet.

Like magnets moving, the circle of well-wishers had trailed after Edward. The boys clapped him on the back. Spencer Hastings kissed his cheek, but almost brushed his lips, and – to Bella's thinly-veiled disgust – rubbed her hand up and down his upper arm. She whispered something in his ear, making Edward grin wolfishly and wink.

Bella stifled a groan.

Then Spencer turned to Bella. "Hello, sweetie," she cooed, the way she might at a small child.

Affronted and irritated, Bella smiled thinly, cringing mentally at the unavoidable lisp. "Hey, th-pencer."

Bella turned to Edward. "Can we go now, Edward?" she said, a whine in her voice.

Knowingly, he offered his forearm – thick with sinewy muscle. He didn't let go of her until she had some semblance of balance. Once she was steadily on her feet, he reached for her forearm crutches, and helped her thread her arms through them. As he helped Bella attentively, he had half-listened to Tyler.

"I don't know if I'll have time," Edward finished the conversation dismissively. "Talk later, guy."

At this, he clapped Tyler forcefully – and dismissively - on the shoulder. It was the last time the two would ever talk.

Edward kept a feathery-light hand on Bella's back as she put one foot in front of the other. Exhaustion and discomfort flared up in Bella: her braces were sticky with sweat, and she was desperate to take them off. Her hands became clammy on her crutches' forearm handles. She was vaguely aware of the adults behind her, feeling her embarrassment flare. If Victoria had any doubts that Isabella was "severely disabled," they'd vanish quickly.

They were intercepted by every teacher, who – much to Bella's pleasant surprise – had nothing but delightful things to say about Edward. Mr. Bertie, their biology teacher – who had written Edward's recommendation teacher – and Mrs. Norman were particularly kind. Glowing like a proud Mom, Bella beamed when Bertie called Edward brilliant. For a moment, Bella forgot her discomfort – that her right leg was bothering her, that the braces were stiflingly uncomfortable and chafing against her bare skin. Bearing all the pressure, her left leg started to wobble. Noticing her discomfort, Edward rubbed her back and looked pointedly at Mr. Bertie.

"Oh, right. Well. Good job, Cullen. Bella, sweetie, I'll see you next year."

Proudly, Bertie clapped Edward on the shoulder and walked away.

Bella blushed at the term of endearment, but offered a glittering smile. "Bye, Mr. Bertie!"

"Those your folks?" Bertie asked of nobody in particular, mostly muttering to himself. "I'd love to ask your grandpa about the Enron Investigation..."

Edward sighed, wiping his hand roughly against his brow. "Sorry, Bee, that's a lot of fucking standing around – Whoopsie daisy!"

When Bella took a step, her right leg buckled. It dragged against the grass, denting the fresh earth, and Bella fell flat on her face. As she flailed downwards, her chest hit one of the crutches, leaving her breathless with pain.

"Bella!"

She was laughing through her blisteringly hot embarrassment. Edward rushed forward. For a split second, Edward was backlit by the bright sun. In the next second, he was on his knees next to her. Edward looked at her incredulously, but his lips started to turn corners.

"Did you honestly say – " Bella choked out through her giggles, her whole body trembling as it did when her CP was acting up -"Whoopsie daisy?"

Edward shook his head. "Fuck off," he said.

A crowd was forming around her, faces blurring with concern. As the crowd grew, so did Bella's mortification. Desperately, she wished the earth would swallow her whole.

"Honey?" Charlie asked urgently. "Honey - here – " Horrified, Bella felt Charlie's hands snaking under her arms, trying to tug her up. Bella squeaked in protest.

"Wait," Edward instructed sharply, almost pleadingly, making Charlie stop.

"Sweetheart, you need to be more careful," Esme tittered fretfully, looking reproachfully at Bella.

"It's not her fault," Edward snapped at Esme. He turned to Bella, looking at her intently. "Do you want to try to get up yourself?"

Still trembling, but now with a wave of crushing embarrassment, Bella shook her head. "Help me turn?"

Charlie stood motionless, almost frozen in shock, as Edward helped Bella turn so that she was sitting on her butt. Edward's hands were steady as he studied her leg, and he cringed when he studied her left leg; the right leg was spasming. "Your knee is bleeding."

"Oh," Bella said; her whole body was stinging, burning where her skin had met the gravelly grass.

Carlisle was standing by, looking at Bella thoughtfully. "Sweetheart, may I take a look?"

Doe eyes wide, Bella shook her head aggressively.

"Wait, Dad," Edward said seriously, keeping his eyes fixed on Bella. "Do you want me to – "

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be able to walk," Bella said, speaking to Edward as if only Edward existed.

Bella inched towards him, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. Easily, he stood. Face flaming with embarrassment, Bella tucked her head underneath his chin, feeling cocooned. This was a nice alternative to disappearing. "Find us a bench?" she asked, peering at him through her eyelashes.

Looking at her tenderly, he nodded, turning to glare at the crowd. "If you're not related, you need to fuck off," Edward barked at the crowd.

"Edward!" Esme and Victoria gasped in unison – one literally clutching at her pearls.

Ignoring them, Edward marched off.

"I should've brought my chair," Bella lamented in a hoarse, shame-filled voice. "It's a bad idea to be out in public with the crutches."

Grunting, he readjusted her weight. Edward shook his head. "You worked so hard to get on the crutches, Bee, and you shouldn't use the wheelchair all the time."

People stared openly. With every stare, Bella's embarrassment prickled like a blister popping. They walked for more than a handful of minutes. Their – their joint, dysfunctional family - followed them. Charlie and Esme were stoic and silent. Senator Masen was being harassed by Mr. Yorkie, the school principal, but answering questions very kindly, and turning down his offer to join the School's Board of Directors. Victoria was interrogating Carlisle. Bella could hear their conversation.

"Are they together?" Victoria demanded of her son, in a whispered hiss.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Are they an item?" she repeated impatiently.

"I don't get involved in my son's private life," Carlisle said acidly.

"You must have some idea, Carlisle. Don't be so obtuse."

Carlisle sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. "I don't believe so, mother. Not technically."

"She's very pretty," Victoria whispered. "Gorgeous, even – the mother is, and blood will out, but –"

"Bella is wonderful," Carlisle snapped.

Laughing uncomfortably, Bella blushed. She rested her head on the crook of Edward's neck, marveling at the fact that she loved the scent of his neck. As sticky and musky as the crook of his neck was, Bella felt like she could stay in that position forever, skin-to-skin. Edward found the spot he was looking for – a bench underneath Bella's favorite oak tree – and sat her down.

Bella kissed his cheek, smooth and minty after a fresh shave. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Don't mention it, Bell," he said softly. Still feeling vulnerable, she tugged on his shirt. Obligingly, he offered his hand. He intertwined their fingers, careful not to touch her battered palm.

"I'm so sorr – "

Edward pressed a single finger to her lips. His lips were taught but his eyes were sparkling playfully, and Bella loved him. "The only thing I care about here is - if you tell a single fucking soul that I said whoopsie daisy, I'll destroy you."

The tension broke, and Bella laughed.

"Bella, may I take a look at your knees?" Carlisle asked gently. He was holding a first aid kit in his hands.

"Her hands, too," Edward said, disentangling their fingers to hold out Bella's blistery palm to cradle it in his.

"I see you're feeling better!" Victoria said in her most saccharine voice as if speaking to a toddler. Bella turned bright scarlet as she nodded politely, terrified of being directly addressed.

This woman had thought Elizabeth Masen – athletic, elegant, well-bred, perfect Elizabeth – an unsuitable bride for her only son. Bella did not stand a fighting chance, and she curled into herself with dread. In any case, Bella had never been fighting, in-the-running. Besides, Bella had every reason to believe Edward would sleep with Spencer Hastings that very night.

Reminding her of Edward, Carlisle began to gently wipe the blood that had trickled from a deep gash in Bella's knee down to her ankle, staining the grey-colored insoles of her leg braces. Sympathetically, Carlisle winced as Bella cringed with pain as he cleaned the wound.

"Are you OK, my love?" Esme breathed, sitting next to Carlisle. Cradling Bella's face in her hands, she tucked hair behind Bella's ear. Without watching for her to respond, she tittered on. "Sweetheart, you really do need to be careful, really watch where you're going."

"That's not – she didn't fall 'cause she wasn't watching," Edward snapped defensively.

Esme sighed. "Right. In any case - Mrs. Cullen made reservations at the George in an hour, and we need to get going."

"Honey, screw the George," Charlie said irritably.

Esme looked affronted. "It's at the Fairmont Olympic," she said, as if that were a sufficient explanation.

"I really don't give a sh– "

"Edward," Carlisle scolded sharply.

"I don't care what we do," Edward said grumpily, turning to look at Bella. "Do you want to go to the George?"

Bella looked crestfallen. All she wanted to do was take off the braces and shower.

"I asked the concierge at the Olympic to have ice a bottle of 1995 Brut Champagne ready for us on arrival," Victoria intercepted, looking offended. "They only offer the 1998 Brut on the menu."

Out of his mother's range of vision, Carlisle rolled his eyes.

"We should go to the Goerge," Bella said, forcefully and brightly.

Edward gave Bella a suspicious look.

"I want to go freshen up first," he told his grandmother commandingly, eyes icy. "You can tell the concierge we'll be late for the reservations."

Esme whimpered.


Bella felt a million times better after 'freshening up.' Esme helped her shower and change, discarding the blood-caked dress she'd worn earlier. She replaced it instead with an egg-yolk yellow maxi dress. Refreshed, Bella felt infinitely better once the sweat-laden braces were off. Despite Esme's hurried help, the Swans were late to the George – not least because the entrance to the George had two steps at the front. The staff offered the side entrance for Bella to navigate with her wheelchair; in the end, Charlie helped Bella work her way up the two steps and into the George.

Edward spotted them first and bolted out of his seat to clear a space in the table for Bella's wheelchair. Victoria looked away from the conversation she was having with Senator Masen to look at Bella. Bella was used to being stared at and even pointed at – it was a fact of life – but this was different. Victoria was scrutinizing her with an icy, calculating intensity that made Bella nauseous.

"We're sorry we're late," Esme said, offering a charming but brittle smile. Charlie made no apology to that effect. He helped his wife into her seat.

"It's fine," Edward said immediately. "No one gives a – "

"Edward," Victoria snarled.

"We've ordered an oyster platter for starters," Carlisle told Charlie

Victoria ignored them and composed her face in the next instant. "You're handsome, smart, well-educated, and well-bred," she enlisted sharply. "There's no reason to go around talking like a truck driver."

Possessed by some hitherto unknown courage, Bella defended Edward. "I read that people that swear a lot are the most honest," Bella cut in. "Swearing is associated with honesty."

Victoria arched her eyebrows, and her lips curled into a glistening smile worthy of the Cheshire cat. "Oh? Where did you read that?"

At this, Bella turned customarily pink. "Forbes Magazine," Bella said, her voice sharp but inevitably sweet.

Edward was looking at her with that strange frown on his face. Tender, indulgent, almost frustrated, like he wanted to hug her. Hawk-sharp, Victoria didn't miss the look on Edward's face.

"Are you a subscriber?" Victoria asked, amusedly.

Bella shook her head. "No, Mrs. Cullen. I read it at a doctor's office."

"Whatever Forbes magazine says, I don't think my grandson should swear," Victoria insisted, patting Edward on the cheek. "It's completely below him. He's such a wonderful young man."

"He has his moments," Senator Masen cut in sharply, lips curling into a smirk.

Edward looked downright offended, and his temper flared. "I'm going to Harvard," Edward said insistently, "I'm good-looking, and I'm a star football player."

Carlisle groaned.

"Oh, my god," Bella deadpanned, slamming her hand against her forehead.

"Yes, you are," Victoria crooned. "Which is why I took the liberty of bringing you one last present." With a flourish, Victoria took an envelope out of her purse with her long, spidery fingers.

Looking delighted, Edward took the envelope. He was already clad in three thousand dollars worth of regalia from his grandmother: a Rolex, the heirloom cufflinks, and a pair of Raybans that rested solidly on the collar of his polo shirt. He tore the envelope open with surprising finesse and then pulled out four plane tickets – and a check. He studied them intently, before yelping and breaking out into a grin.

"Fuck, yes," he said incredulously. "Tickets to – London?"

Carlisle looked apprehensive.

"Tickets to Europe," Victoria beamed. "I haven't run it by your father, but my mother got Carlisle tickets to go to Europe when he graduated from High School, and I see no reason why he should object now."

Edward laughed incredulously, looking so happy that Bella felt happy in return. It was happiness that overwhelmed the weighty sadness creeping into her bones. They only had so many months together left, and Bella feared – knew – that Edward would go on to bigger and better things. Circumstances had brought them together. They had become accomplices, confidants, in an especially dysfunctional family. Edward could and would escape to better and bigger things – not necessarily with Bella.

"These are for – the middle of June," Edward said suddenly, brow crinkling.

"August in Europe is insufferably hot," Victoria explained.

Edward set the tickets carefully down on the table.

"I spend the summer with my Aunt Esme," Edward said rather pointedly, though his gaze was fixed on Bella.

Immediately, Bella shook her head. "Go to Europe," she said encouragingly, offering Edward her loveliest smile – a smile all the lovelier because it was tinged with sadness.

"But we'll only have three weeks in Cannon Beach," Edward said, looking so crestfallen Bella wanted to hug him.

"I was hoping you'd come to the Hamptons in August."

Victoria turned to Senator Masen, a long-time friend of her late husband's. "Mase, you remember Marcus Voltaire from your Exeter days? His grandson, Felix is also going to the Boston Area for University, and I think he and Edward should meet." Mase had been the Senator's nickname among his circle. Edward Sr. looked nonplussed at being addressed as Mase, vaguely disdainful of Victoria. Bella's affection for the man swelled.

"I wasn't terribly fond of Marcus," the Senator said carefully.

Victoria flicked her wrist. "His granddaughter, Jane - lovely girl. She models for Abercrombie and just graduated from Ashley Hall."

Bella felt like gagging up the horseradish and oysters she'd been eating half-heartedly.

Edward was shaking his head. "I'm going to stick around the West Coast for three more weeks, at least."

"Go to Europe," Bella insisted lovingly. "It's such a great opportunity."

"Fine. But I'll stick around at least until mid-June, Grandma."

Carlisle uncorked the champagne to take a long sip, with a long-suffering sigh. "And thank your grandmother, Edward Anthony. For the love of God."