Spring 2005

"First thing's first, there are a few things we need to take care of," Edward said, draping his arm on the bench, "What makes you feel better?"

"Pasta."

The response was engrained and automatic. Edward fought a smile.

"Alright. Let's find you some pasta."

He rose, offering his hand. If he was going to be transparent, he might as well start. Bella took it without reacting to the chill of his stony skin. He assumed she was being polite in true Bella fashion. Once she started speaking, he realized it was because her one-track mind was already in transit.

"There's an Italian place four blocks that way. And another further down that road. There's also the Olive Garden on the exit towards Forks, if we wanted to keep things easier. Apparently, the Italian restaurant over by the water is phenomenal."

"Do you have a built-in radar for these things?"

Her answering smile was so small yet so pretty, his chest ached.

"Mike and I came downtown before," she explained. "He said he would take me out to dinner so obviously I wanted to come prepared."

"Which restaurant would you like to go to?"

"Anywhere is fine with me."

"Which one did you go to with him?" Edward wanted to know so he could avoid the place.

"None of them," Bella admitted, after a beat. "He wanted burgers, instead."

"Veggie burgers?"

"The fries were good," she deflected. "And the fried pickles."

There were many things Edward wanted to say, most of them centered around Mike Newton's pigheaded selfishness. But he held his tongue. He didn't want to make Bella feel worse. After all, it was his fault she was in that situation. If he'd simply done something—anything—she wouldn't have gone to such lengths to upset him.

"The restaurant by the beach, then," he decided, for it was the only one she applied an adjective to, "My car's right over there."

The vibrancy of the town festival faded as Edward and Bella turned down a few side streets. He drove his Austin Martin into town, simply for the small spike of serotonin it gave. Bella did not seem to notice the difference between it and the Volvo she rode in the day before. He opened the passenger door and helped her inside. It was a short, quiet drive across town. Bella didn't speak, bobbing her head and tapping her feet to a different rhythm than the one in the song. Her tears were dry, her color evened out to its usual shade of fresh cream.

Knowing what was to come, Edward let her enjoy her good spirits in silence. They wouldn't last long.

Edward squeezed into a tight space right in front of the restaurant. Bella didn't wait for him to open her door, but she struggled with the car lock long enough that he made it to her side, anyway. Again, he took her hand. This time, she did gasp at the coolness of his skin. Yet, she did not rip her hand out of his, like he thought she would. She added her second hand, wrapping them both around his, to allay the chill with her warmth. A fruitless endeavor. She would learn soon enough not to waste efforts on him.

He opened the door. She immediately reeled back, bumping into him. "We can't go in there."

"Whyever not?" He scanned the thoughts in the restaurant, searching for the vile mind of one of her suitors or the jealous harping of her tormentors at school. He found nothing but content customers and thoughts of cheese.

"It's so nice in there."

Inside, the restaurant was dark, but welcoming enough. Natural stone walls continued up onto a vaulted ceiling, reminiscent of old Italian construction. Plants climbed up wooden columns and sat at each window. The small, square tables were covered in classic white tablecloths and adorned with a single, white candle. The entire wall of wine was a bit much in Edward's opinion, but not a deterrent. Other than the fact Edward would have to duck his head to avoid hitting a low pendent, he didn't see why they wouldn't go in. "So?"

Bella gestured to her appearance. She dressed homely to inspire Mike's ire. Not to eat at a fine dining establishment.

"No one is going to care." And if they did, Edward would pulverize them to pulp.

Bella backed up into his arm, unconvinced. As pleasurable as it was to be her source of comfort in this state of distress, Edward needed to do something. If there was one thing he was going to accomplish in this endless life of his, it would be to get this girl her pasta.

"Here," Edward removed his trench coat, then his shirt. "Give me that," he requested, referring to her sweatshirt. It was small on him. The hem skimmed his belly button, and the sleeves barely covered his forearms.

"Congratulations," he said, offhandedly.

She furrowed her brow, then looked down at her t-shirt, identifying her as the first-place winner of her eighth-grade science fair. With a huff and a flush, she pulled his t-shirt over her own. Then, she covered the entire ensemble with his trench coat.

He held out his arms, presenting himself, "Now we look equally ridiculous. Will you go in?"

Bella bit her lip, considering. She took out her bun, attempting to comb out her gnarled locks with her fingers.

"Let me help." He gestured for her to sit on the decorative stone bench and settled behind her. Carefully, he undid the snarls. Her hair was thick and beautiful and impossible to smooth out in its current state. He pulled apart three equal sections at her hairline.

"You know how to French braid?"

"I do."

"Do you have sisters or aunts? Your story changed."

"Neither and both. The women in my life are not related to me by blood, but I do think of them as family. In Forks, a story was already set up where it made sense for Rosalie and Esme to be my aunts."

"I see."

The absurdity of the situation did not diminish the delight Edward took from it. On the placid spring night, under a full moon and to the beat of a lilting, romantic song drifting from the restaurant, Edward played with warm mahogany tresses. Soft as silk, smelling faintly of strawberries. He tied the band around the end of her hair. "What do you think?"

Bella patted the top of her head, pleased with how smooth and even it felt. She grabbed the thick braid and pulled it over her shoulder. She studied it with an unfathomable expression.

"What's wrong?"

Bella fiddled with the end of her braid. "The nicer you begin, the crueler you become."

A casual beheading would have done less damage. "I know. I'm so sorry for everything. But that's not going to happen. Ever again."

She said nothing.

"Would you still like to know the truth?"

She nodded.

"Before or after pasta?"

"Do you think I would lose my appetite?"

"Maybe."

"Then, after."

"Alright."

Together, they entered the restaurant. The hostess eyed Edward's midriff for longer than decency dictated but eventually led Bella and him to a table near the back. Both menus were handed to him. He passed one over to Bella.

"They have risotto," she said, after a full study. "I bet you can ask for it without the shrimp."

"Is that what you're going to get?"

"No. I think that might be the only gluten-free option. Unless you want a salad…"

Always the most thoughtful creature. He shook his head, "You don't need to worry about that."

"So, you're not gluten-free after all?"

"I don't eat human food."

Bella stilled. Edward cringed, as if he could hear the literal crack of a fissure forming between them, separating them as woman and beast.

"So, you're not a vegetarian, either?"

Her condescending tone was almost comical. Edward chose to humor her. "I am, in a loose definition."

"What would that loose definition be?"

"That I find an alternate source of nourishment than the standard for my kin."

The answer did not satisfy her. Bella gnawed on her bottom lip, considering.

"For how long?"

"Almost my entire life."

Her brows drew in, forming a little "V" on her forehead. It was painfully adorable. If Edward weren't dreading the outcome of their conversation, he would have commented on it.

"And how long has that life been?"

"I've been eighteen years old since 1918."

Bella clutched the tablecloth as the crevice separating them grew wider.

"At least it's easy to remember," she teased in a choked voice.

He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is."

She took in a deep, calming breath. "I'm beginning to realize how… literal those books were."

He smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid your impressive sleuthing went to waste."

"They were never from you?"

"No. They were from Alice."

"Dark hair? Gold eyes? About this tall?"

"That would be her," Edward nodded, smiling at the exaggerated low placement of Bella's hand. "You'll like her. She also never listens to me."

"I had the impression that I would. She's the new librarian at the school."

That would explain the occasional visits from his meddling sister. If he hadn't been constantly miserable, he would have suspected his sister was up to something other than to offer him comfort.

"Alice hasn't held a real job in her life. I imagine she snuck in a few times to seem less suspicious until she could pass along those books."

"Why?"

"She knew that I was ruining the best thing that ever happened to me."

"You can't ruin it," Bella admitted.

A sudden swell of violence overtook him—directed inward. He couldn't ruin their relationship. Their love was as irrevocable, enduring, and—to be perfectly honest—irrational to her as it was to him. Meaning, he allowed her to suffer as much as he suffered. He was strong enough to endure such pain, but it could have easily crushed her. Edward wanted to punch himself in the face and demand she do better. Couldn't she see he didn't deserve such affection? Good intentions aside, he hurt her. Played games with her head. Furthermore, she read Alice's books—she knew the direction the conversation was headed. Yet, she sat before him. Seemingly calm and comfortable. Confessing her devotion.

It was ludicrous.

However, he was no longer making the decisions. If accepting her love made her happy, then he would have to do so with a smile on his face.

"Thank you," he said, simply.

The waiter arrived at their table, dressed in a neat, classic suit. Flustered by indecision, Bella asked the waiter what he would recommend out of the three vegetarian dishes. Edward ordered all three—earning the sweetest stare of indignation—and a basket of garlic bread.

"I guess those massive paychecks from the bookstore got to your head."

She didn't know half of it. She knew his age—she could speculate his net worth.

"It's mine," he said, being honest.

"What?"

"The Bookshop. It's mine. So was the music shop in Stika. I still own it. The loveliest woman took over. She added more seventies music than I would, but I can't do much about that."

"You use immortality to work in retail?"

Edward laughed. The sound was full of affection and sent a wave of glances his way. "Not all the time. Opening a specialty shop is a good way to clean out the coffers. The bookshop was for your sole benefit."

"For me? Why would you ever do anything like that?"

"The same reason I do everything these days."

Two glasses of water and a basket of garlic bread were brought to the table. Bella plucked a piece from the basket. She studied it, glancing intermittently in Edward's direction with an odd look on her face. She locked eyes with him and took a large bite, like it was some sort of threat.

"Anything else you'd like to add? Do you own the school, too? Have you paid off the teachers to give me good grades?"

"I read minds."

The piece of bread fell out of her hand. The first sighting of true terror was in reaction to the most benign part of him. He fought an eye roll.

"Not yours," he clarified, "but most."

Bella blindly groped for the bread on her plate, but it had fallen to the floor. Edward replaced it with a new piece in a movement too quick for her to see. She crushed it into crumbs.

"Alice isn't really into Science Fiction, so that's probably why she didn't include that detail in her little stack. To her credit, I can't think of many. Childhood's End would have made a decent metaphor with the transcended race and there's some telepathy in it."

"Left Hand of Darkness," Bella mumbled.

"Yes, there's telepathy in that. Though, it could have gotten lost in all the politics. There's a great short story by Niven about a mind-reading predator that can't hurt you unless you believe in it. I think that would have gotten her point across."

Bella nodded woodenly.

"I couldn't read minds when I was human. It was a trait I developed when I woke up. It's not clear how it works or why it happened. Most of the time, it's an incessant hum in the back of my mind. I never really care to focus on anyone's thoughts, so I never really listen. But it's a distraction.

"You were such a refreshing presence in the music shop. You still are. For over one hundred years, I hadn't been able to speak to someone without their thoughts intruding into my mind. I spend my immortal life clinging to the fringes, afraid to engage in conversation, lest I slip. I got better at differentiating voice from thought as time passed, but it's still safer if I say nothing at all.

"The afternoon we spent in that hot spring will forever be one of the best moments in my life. After decades of choosing between peace of mind and the company of someone I loved, I got to experience them both."

Edward watched with sincere pleasure as her chocolate eyes melted. He placed his hand on the table, beside hers. He wouldn't take her hand—not without her permission—but he rested his hand so his knuckle sat parallel to hers. A small twitch of her fingers would brush them against his skin.

"Then… why...?"

"Bella, I made a decision on your behalf. It was wrong of me to do so. I decided you would be better off without me. Please understand that I truly thought I was acting for your benefit. Every time I pushed you away, I did it out of love. It was agony to do so."

"You were mean," Bella said.

"I know."

"And cruel."

"I know."

"And you lied."

"I know, I know, I know. I'm sorry for it all. You never have to forgive me, if you don't want to. From now on, everything is your choice. I will be whatever you want of me, including nothing at all."

The pasta came out. Edward reluctantly pulled his hand away. Bella blanched at the three family-sized portions set between them. She smiled timidly at the waiter as he sprinkled cheese on each platter. When her gaze flickered to Edward, it hardened with indignation. Even in the middle of their tense conversation, it was difficult for Edward not to laugh at such a face. She put her pride aside and scooped pasta from each of the dishes onto her plate. He watched with pure adoration as she tasted each one. He carefully cataloged her reactions to each and the ingredients to learn what she liked best, wondering if he would have a chance to use the information in the future.

She refilled her plate from only one of the dishes. The one with pink sauce, mushrooms, and spinach, he noted. "So, why did you lie? Why did you tell me all those things about Dartmouth and Chicago?"

"I never lied to you. In Alaska, that is. Everything I said about Chicago was from my real human life. I did track. I played the piano. At the time, I really was going to Dartmouth in the fall as a freshman. Coming to Forks was never a part of my plan. If it was, I would have told you I was a high school junior on summer break."

"What changed?"

Edward braced himself. The next truth would separate them forever. Selfishly, he placed his hand back on the table. His heart sang as she mirrored him. Her knuckles barely grazed his.

"Jasper slipped in late August. He and Alice were forced to flee Connecticut."

"When you say slip, you mean...?"

"Exactly what you think I mean."

Bella closed her mouth and swallowed hard, yet her hand remained next to his.

"When things like that happen, it's important for the family to come together. Carlisle and Esme thought Forks was the perfect place for Jasper to reintegrate into society. Remote enough that he would have plenty of space, but populated with kind, down-to-earth people he couldn't justify hurting. I was resolved to spend decades in miserable isolation when I got the call…"

This troubled her more than any other part of his horror story. "Decades in isolation? Why?"

"I had just given up the love of my life," he reminded her.

"Oh," Bella breathed, reaching for her braid. She missed her hair. Her hand landed back on the table with a thud. "Right."

"There was nothing for me to do at that point but nod and play along. I would do anything to spare my family from the slightest pain. So, if my presence brought Jasper a sliver of peace, it was the least I could do. There were already established stories. Carlisle and his sister, Rosalie, moved to town with their spouses, Esme and Emmett. Rosalie had mentioned a nephew to several clients, so when I joined, it made sense for me to be that nephew. Carlisle is older than Rose, so he got 'custody' of me. When rumors spread that I was a troubled youth, we built our story around it. If Aunt Alice and Uncle Jasper were occasionally seen in town, upset and uncomfortable, it meant their unruly nephew was acting out, and Carlisle needed more hands on deck."

Bella's lovely features were soft with compassion.

"I never expected to see you again," he told her. "I didn't want to. I don't want you to be a part of any of this. I'm dangerous. A monster in the most literal sense. I pushed you away, and I'm sorry. I was cruel and angry and scared, and I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

Of course, she did. She said as much during their time in Alaska. She was his Jane Eyre, his Christine, his Elizabeth. She would take him handless, nose-less, and pompous.

"The reasons I did so stand true, Bella. They need to be considered," Edward closed the gap between them, leaning across the table. "I may feed from animals, but there is always a risk involved with being so close to me. I am in Forks because my brother experienced one second of weakness. The same could happen to any of us. Your silent mind wasn't the only thing that attracted me to you in Alaska. Your blood is the sweetest, most alluring temptation I have faced in my entire second life."

He scooched his hand closer, so his full knuckle pressed against hers. "I'm perfectly in control right now. I never want to hurt you. To do so would be my demise, my love."

She blinked slowly, processing the information. Her heartbeat flew like a hummingbird's wings. Edward knew his words for frightening, but Bella needed all the information before making her decision: the good and the evil.

"I'm attracted to you in the best and worst ways," he said, "I will always crave your blood as deeply as I crave your body."

Bella collapsed face-first into her dish.

"Sweetheart!"

Gasps popped like bottle rockets. Edward stood so quickly, that his chair collapsed behind him. He moved too fluidly for a human, but he would worry about that later. For now, all his attention was on the girl before him. He knelt, checking her pulse, her breath.

She fainted.

A waitress said something he didn't hear. He took the bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. He lifted his love from her chair with the utmost care, carefully guiding her head so it lay on his shoulder. He cradled her against his chest and tucked her head under his chin, so it wouldn't jostle. His precious cargo was safely buckled into her seat and on her way home in moments.

The quiet home of the police chief was known in town, nestled against the thick woods. Edward pulled into an empty driveway. Charlie was still at the festival. The exact whereabouts of Bella's truck were still unknown to him.

Bella had not stirred, but only ten minutes had passed since her swoon. He scooped her back into his arms. Walking through her dark bedroom, he thought of the many things he wished to do. Kiss her forehead. Press his nose into her hair. Let his fingers splay out along her delicate curve. He resisted them all, just as he resisted the desire to sink his teeth into her pale, elegant neck.

He placed her gently into her bed. When she woke, she might not wish to see him again. That knowledge couldn't be an excuse for him to linger. He should be grateful for what he had. He was already prepared to endure the rest of his existence without even a single embrace, yet he got to hold her. He got to take her out on a date. He got to see how lovely her face looked settled in sleep. Details he will cherish in decades of solitude.

She stirred, forcing him to flee out the window and down the side of the house. He landed lightly on the ground when she gasped. He held his breath, wondering whether she would scream in fear or call his name. Worse than screams, sweet, beautiful Bella immediately broke down in tears.

The rift between them, too large to cross with infinite strength and skill, had fully formed. They could not be together. Edward knew this, yet acceptance burned past the fire in his lungs and singed the broken pieces of his heart into ash.

He would respect her rejection with dignity. But first, he would leave her with a proper goodbye.