you’re less breakable. Be patient, Bella.”
I tried to keep my voice firm and reasonable. “But that’s the problem. It won’t be the same when I’m less
breakable. I won’t be the same! I don’t know who I’ll be then.”
“You’ll still be Bella,” he promised.
I frowned. “If I’m so far gone that I’d want to kill Charlie — that I’d drink Jacob’s blood or Angela’s if I
got the chance — how can that be true?”
“It will pass. And I doubt you’ll want to drink the dog’s blood.” He pretended to shudder at the thought.
“Even as a newborn, you’ll have better taste than that.”
I ignored his attempt to sidetrack me. “But that will always be what I want most, won’t it?” I challenged.
“Blood, blood, and more blood!”
“The fact that you are still alive is proof that that is not true,” he pointed out.
“Over eighty years later,” I reminded him. “What I meant was physically, though. Intellectually, I know I’ll
be able to be myself . . . after a while. But just purely physically — I will always be thirsty, more than anything
else.”
He didn’t answer.
“So I will be different,” I concluded unopposed. “Because right now, physically, there’s nothing I want
more than you. More than food or water or oxygen. Intellectually, I have my priorities in a slightly more
sensible order. But physically . . .”
I twisted my head to kiss the palm of his hand.
He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady.
“Bella, I could kill you,” he whispered.
“I don’t think you could.”
Edward’s eyes tightened. He lifted his hand from my face and reached quickly behind himself for
something I couldn’t see. There was a muffled snapping sound, and the bed quivered beneath us.
Something dark was in his hand; he held it up for my curious examination. It was a metal flower, one of the
roses that adorned the wrought iron posts and canopy of his bed frame. His hand closed for a brief second,
his fingers contracting gently, and then it opened again.
Without a word, he offered me the crushed, uneven lump of black metal. It was a cast of the inside of his
hand, like a piece of play dough squeezed in a child’s fist. A half-second passed, and the shape crumbled into
black sand in his palm.
I glared. “That’s not what I meant. I already know how strong you are. You didn’t have to break the
furniture.”
“What did you mean then?” he asked in a dark voice, tossing the handful of iron sand to the corner of the
room; it hit the wall with a sound like rain.
His eyes were intent on my face as I struggled to explain.
“Obviously not that you aren’t physically able hurt me, if you wanted to . . . More that, you don’t want to
hurt me . . . so much so that I don’t think that you ever could.”
He started shaking his head before I was done.
“It might not work like that, Bella.”
“Might,” I scoffed. “You have no more idea what you’re talking about than I do.”
“Exactly. Do you imagine I would ever take that kind of risk with you?”
I stared into his eyes for a long minute. There was no sign of compromise, no hint of indecision in them.
“Please,” I finally whispered, hopeless. “It’s all I want. Please.” I closed my eyes in defeat, waiting for the
quick and final no.
But he didn’t answer immediately. I hesitated in disbelief, stunned to hear that his breathing was uneven
again.
I opened my eyes, and his face was torn.
“Please?” I whispered again, my heartbeat picking up speed. My words tumbled out as I rushed to take
advantage of the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. “You don’t have to make me any guarantees. If it doesn’t
work out right, well, then that’s that. Just let us try . . . only try. And I’ll give you what you want,” I promised
rashly. “I’ll marry you. I’ll let you pay for Dartmouth, and I won’t complain about the bribe to get me in. You
can even buy me a fast car if that makes you happy! Just . . . please.”
His icy arms tightened around me, and his lips were at my ear; his cool breath made me shiver. “Thisis
unbearable. So many things I’ve wanted to give you — and this is what you decide to demand. Do you have
any idea how painful it is, trying to refuse you when you plead with me this way?”
“Then don’t refuse,” I suggested breathlessly.
He didn’t respond.
“Please,” I tried again.
“Bella . . .” He shook his head slowly, but it didn’t feel like a denial as his face, his lips, moved back and
forth across my throat. It felt more like surrender. My heart, racing already, spluttered frantically.
Again, I took what advantage I could. When his face turned toward mine with the slow movement of his
indecision, I twisted quickly in his arms till my lips reached his. His hands seized my face, and I thought he was
going to push me away again.
I was wrong.
His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips
moved. I locked my arms around his neck, and, to my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than
ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.
He didn’t stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did
not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel
powerful. Brave. My hands weren’t unsteady now; I got through with the buttons on his shirt this time easily,
and my fingers traced the perfect planes of his icy chest. He was too beautiful. What was the word he’d used
just now? Unbearable — that was it. His beauty was too much to bear. . . .
I pulled his mouth back to mine, and he seemed just as eager as I was. One of his hands still cupped my
face, his other arm was tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. It made it slightly more difficult as I
tried to reach the front of my shirt, but not impossible.
Cold iron fetters locked around my wrists, and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a
pillow.
His lips were at my ear again. “Bella,” he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. “Would you please stop
trying to take your clothes off?”
“Do you want to do that part?” I asked, confused.
“Not tonight,” he answered softly. His lips were slower now against my cheek and jaw, all the urgency
gone.
“Edward, don’t —，” I started to argue.
“I’m not saying no,” he reassured me. “I’m just saying not tonight.”
I thought about that while my breathing slowed.
“Give me one good reason why tonight is not as good as any other night.” I was still breathless; it made
the frustration in my voice less impressive.
“I wasn’t born yesterday.” He chuckled inmy ear. “Out of the two of us, which do you think is more
unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if
I give in tonight, what guarantee do I have that you won’t go running off to Carlisle in the morning? I am —
clearly — much less reluctant to give you what you want. Therefore . . . you first.”
I exhaled with a loud huff. “I have to marry you first?” I asked in disbelief.
“That’s the deal — take it or leave it. Compromise, remember?”
His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Too persuasive —
it was duress, coercion. I tried to keep a clear head . . . and failed quickly and absolutely.
“I think that’s a really bad idea,” I gasped when he let me breathe.
“I’m not surprised you feel that way.” He smirked. “You have a one-track mind.”
“How did this happen?” I grumbled. “I thought I was holding my own tonight — for once — and now, all
of a sudden —”
“You’re engaged,” he finished.
“Ew! Please don’t say that out loud.”
“Are you going back on your word?” he demanded. He pulled away to read my face. His expression was
entertained. He was having fun.
I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react.
“Are you?” he pressed.
“Ugh!” I groaned. “No. I’m not. Are you happy now?”
His smile was blinding. “Exceptionally.”
I groaned again.
“Aren’t you happy at all?”
He kissed me again before I could answer. Another too-persuasive kiss.
“A little bit,” I admitted when I could speak. “But not about getting married.”
He kissed me another time. “Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?” he laughed in my ear.
“Traditionally, shouldn’t you be arguing my side, and I yours?”
“There isn’t much that’s traditional about you and me.”
“True.”
He kissed me again, and kept going until my heart was racing and my skin was flushed.
“Look, Edward,” I murmured, my voice wheedling, when he paused to kiss the palm of my hand. “I said I
would marry you, and I will. I promise. I swear. If you want, I’ll sign a contract in my own blood.”
“Not funny,” he murmured against the inside of my wrist.
“What I’m saying is this — I’m not going to trick you or anything. You know me better than that. So
there’s really no reason to wait. We’re completely alone — how often does that happen? — and you’ve
provided this very large and comfortable bed. . . .”
“Not tonight,” he said again.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do.”
Using the hand that he was still kissing, I pulled his face back up to where I could see his expression.
“Then what’s the problem? It’s not like you didn’t know you were going to win in the end.” I frowned and
muttered, “You always win.”
“Just hedging my bets,” he said calmly.
“There’s something else,” I guessed, my eyes narrowing. There was a defensiveness about his face, a faint
hint of some secret motive he was trying to hide behind his casual manner. “Are you planning to go back on
your word?”
“No,” he promised solemnly. “I swear to you, we will try. After you marry me.”
I shook my head, and laughed glumly. “You make me feel like a villain in a melodrama — twirling my
mustache while I try to steal some poor girl’s virtue.”
His eyes were wary as they flashed across my face, then he quickly ducked down to press his lips against
my collarbone.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” The short laugh that escaped me was more shocked than amused. “You’re trying to
protect your virtue!” I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle the giggle that followed. The words were so .
. . old-fashioned.
“No, silly girl,” he muttered against my shoulder. “I’m trying to protect yours. And you’re making it
shockinglydifficult.”
“Of all the ridiculous —”
“Let me ask you something,” he interrupted quickly. “We’ve had this discussion before, but humor me.
How many people in this room have a soul? A shot at heaven, or whatever there is after this life?”
“Two,” I answered immediately, my voice fierce.
“All right. Maybe that’s true. Now, there’s a world full of dissension about this, but the vast majority seem
to think that there are some rules that have to be followed.”
“Vampire rules aren’t enough for you? You want to worry about the human ones too?”
“It couldn’t hurt.” He shrugged. “Just in case.”
I glared at him through narrowed eyes.
“Now, of course, it might be too late for me, even if you are right about my soul.”
“No, it isn’t,” I argued angrily.
“‘Thou shalt not kill’ is commonly accepted by most major belief systems. And I’ve killed a lot of people,
Bella.”
“Only the bad ones.”
He shrugged. “Maybe that counts, maybe it doesn’t. But you haven’t killed anyone —”
“That you know about,” I muttered.
He smiled, but otherwise ignored the interruption. “And I’m going to do my best to keep you out of
temptation’s way.”
“Okay. But we weren’t fighting over committing murder,” I reminded him.
“The same principle applies — the only difference is that this is the one area in which I’m just as spotless
as you are. Can’t I leave one rule unbroken?”
“One?”
“You know that I’ve stolen, I’ve lied, I’ve coveted . . . my virtue is all I have left.” He grinned crookedly.
“I lie all the time.”
“Yes, but you’re such a bad liar that it doesn’t really count. Nobody believes you.”
“I really hope you’re wrong about that — because otherwise Charlie is about to burst through the door
with a loaded gun.”
“Charlie is happier when he pretends to swallow your stories. He’d rather lie to himself than look too
closely.” He grinned at me.
“But what did you ever covet?” I asked doubtfully. “You have everything.”
“I coveted you.” His smile darkened. “I had no right to want you — but I reached out and took you
anyway. And now look what’s become of you! Trying to seduce a vampire.” He shook his head in mock
horror.
“You can covet what’s already yours,” I informed him. “Besides, I thought it was my virtue you were
worried about.”
“It is. If it’s too late for me . . . Well, I’ll be damned — no pun intended — if I’ll let them keep you out,
too.”
“You can’t make me go somewhere you won’t be,” I vowed. “That’s my definition of hell. Anyway, I
have an easy solution to all this: let’s never die, all right?”
“Sounds simple enough. Why didn’t I think of that?”
He smiled at me until I gave up with an angry humph. “So that’s it. You won’t sleep with me until we’re
married.”
“Technically, I can’t ever sleep with you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very mature, Edward.”
“But, other than that detail, yes, you’ve got it right.”
“I think you have an ulterior motive.”
His eyes widened innocently. “Another one?”
“You know this will speed things up,” I accused.
He tried not to smile. “There is only one thing I want to speed up, and the rest can wait forever . . . but for
that, it’s true, your impatient human hormones are my most powerful ally at this point.”
“I can’t believe I’m going along with this. When I think of Charlie . . . and Renée! Can you imagine what
Angela will think? Or Jessica? Ugh. I can hear the gossip now.”
He raised one eyebrow at me, and I knew why. What did it matter what they said about me when I
leaving soon and not coming back? Was I really so oversensitive that I couldn’t bear a few weeks of sidelong
glances and leading questions?
Maybe it wouldn’t bug me so much if I didn’t know that I would probably be gossiping just as
condescendingly as the rest of them if it was someone else getting married this summer.
Gah. Married this summer! I shuddered.
And then, maybe it wouldn’t bug me so much if I hadn’t been raised to shudder at the thought of marriage.
Edward interrupted my fretting. “It doesn’t have to be a big production. I don’t need any fanfare. You
won’t have to tell anyone or make any changes. We’ll go to Vegas — you can wear old jeans and we’ll go to
the chapel with the drive-through window. I just want it to be official — that you belong to me and no one
else.”
“It couldn’t be any more official than it already is,” I grumbled. But his description didn’t sound that bad.
Only Alice would be disappointed.
“We’ll see about that.” He smiled complacently. “I suppose you don’t want your ring now?”
I had to swallow before I could speak. “You suppose correctly.”
He laughed at my expression. “That’s fine. I’ll get it on your finger soon enough.”
I glared at him. “You talk like you already have one.”
“I do,” he said, unashamed. “Ready to force upon you at the first sign of weakness.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Do you want to see it?” he asked. His liquid topaz eyes were suddenly shining with excitement.
“No!” I almost shouted, a reflex reaction. I regretted it at once. His face fell ever so slightly. “Unless you
really want to show it to me,” I amended. I gritted my teeth together to keep my illogical terror from showing.
“That’s all right,” he shrugged. “It can wait.”
I sighed. “Show me the damn ring, Edward.”
He shook his head. “No.”
I studied his expression for a long minute.
“Please?” I asked quietly, experimenting with my newly discovered weapon. I touched his face lightly with
the tips of my fingers. “Please can I see it?”
His eyes narrowed. “You are the most dangerous creature I’ve ever met,” he muttered. But he got up and
moved with unconscious grace to kneel next to the small bedside table. He was back on the bed with me in an
instant, sitting beside me with one arm around my shoulder. In his other hand was a little black box. He
balanced it on my left knee.
“Go ahead and look, then,” he said brusquely.
It was harder than it should have been to pick up the inoffensive little box, but I didn’t want to hurt him
again, so I tried to keep my hand from shaking. The surface was smooth with black satin. I brushed my fingers
over it, hesitating.
“You didn’t spend a lot of money, did you? Lie to me, if you did.”
“I didn’t spend anything,” he assured me. “It’s just another hand-me-down. This is the ring my father gave
to my mother.”
“Oh.” Surprise colored my voice. I pinched the lid between my thumb and forefinger, but didn’t open it.
“I supposed it’s a little outdated.” His tone was playfully apologetic. “Old-fashioned, just like me. I can get
you something more modern. Something from Tiffany’s?”
“I like old-fashioned things,” I mumbled as I hesitantly lifted the lid.
Nestled into the black satin, Elizabeth Masen’s ring sparkled in the dim light. The face was a long oval, set
with slanting rows of glittering round stones. The band was gold — delicate and narrow. The gold made a
fragile web around the diamonds. I’d never seen anything like it.
Unthinkingly, I stroked the shimmering gems.
“It’s so pretty,” I murmured to myself, surprised.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.” I shrugged, feigning a lack of interest. “What’s not to like?”
He chuckled. “See if it fits.”
My left hand clenched into a fist.
“Bella,” he sighed. “I’m not going to solder it to your finger. Just try it on so I can see if it needs to be
sized. Then you can take it right off.”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
I reached for the ring, but his long fingers beat me there. He took my left hand in his, and slid the ring into
place on my third finger. He held my hand out, and we both examined the oval sparkling against my skin. It
wasn’t quite as awful as I’d feared, having it there.
“A perfect fit,” he said indifferently. “That’s nice — saves me a trip to the jeweler’s.”
I could hear some strong emotion burning under the casual tone of his voice, and I stared up at his face. It
was there in his eyes, too, visible despite the careful nonchalance of his expression.
“You like that, don’t you?” I asked suspiciously, fluttering my fingers and thinking that it was really too bad
that I had not broken my left hand.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure,” he said, still casual. “It looks very nice on you.”
I stared into his eyes, trying to decipher the emotion that smoldered just under the surface. He gazed back,
and the casual pretense suddenly slipped away. He was glowing — his angel’s face brilliant with joy and
victory. He was so glorious that it knocked me breathless.
Before I could catch that breath, he was kissing me, his lips exultant. I was lightheaded when he moved his
mouth to whisper in my ear — but his breathing was just as ragged as mine.
“Yes, I like it. You have no idea.”
I laughed, gasping a little. “I believe you.”
“Do you mind if I do something?” he murmured, his arms tightening around me.
“Anything you want.”
But he let me go and slid away.
“Anything but that,” I complained.
He ignored me, taking my hand and pulling me off the bed, too. He stood in front of me, hands on my
shoulders, face serious.
“Now, I want to do this right. Please, please, keep in mind that you’ve already agreed to this, and don’t
ruin it for me.”
“Oh, no,” I gasped as he slid down onto one knee.
“Be nice,” he muttered.
I took a deep breath.
“Isabella Swan?” He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but,
somehow, still scorching. “I promise to love you forever — every single day of forever. Will you marry me?”
There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey
and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I
whispered, “Yes.”
“Thank you,” he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my fingertips before he kissed the
ring that was now mine.
21. TRAILS
I HATED TO WASTE ANY PART OF THE NIGHT IN SLEEP, but that was inevitable. The sun was bright outside the
window-wall when I woke, with small clouds scuttling too quickly across the sky. The wind rocked the
treetops till the whole forest looked as if it was going to shake apart.
He left me alone to get dressed, and I appreciated the chance to think. Somehow, my plan for last night
had gone horribly awry, and I needed come to grips with the consequences. Though I’d given back the hand-
me-down ring as soon as I could do it without hurting his feelings, my left hand felt heavier, like it was still in
place, just invisible.
This shouldn’t bother me, I reasoned. It was no big thing — a road trip to Vegas. I would go one better
than old jeans — I would wear old sweats. The ceremony certainly couldn’t take very long; no more than
fifteen minutes at the most, right? So I could handle that.
And then, when it was over, he’d have to fulfill his side of the bargain. I would concentrate on that, and
forget the rest.
He said I didn’t have to tell anyone, and I was planning to hold him to that. Of course, it was very stupid
of me not to think of Alice.
The Cullens got home around noon. There was a new, businesslike feel to the atmosphere around them,
and it pulled me back into the enormity of what was coming.
Alice seemed to be in an unusually bad mood. I chalked it up to her frustration with feeling normal,
because her first words to Edward were a complaint about working with the wolves.
“I think” — she made a face as she used the uncertain word — “that you’re going to want to pack for
cold weather, Edward. I can’t see where you are exactly, because you’re taking off with that dog this
afternoon. But the storm that’s coming seems particularly bad in that general area.”
Edward nodded.
“It’s going to snow on the mountains,” she warned him.
“Ew, snow,” I muttered to myself. It was June, for crying out loud.
“Wear a jacket,” Alice told me. Her voice was unfriendly, and that surprised me. I tried to read her face,
but she turned away.
I looked at Edward, and he was smiling; whatever was bugging Alice amused him.
Edward had more than enough camping gear to choose from — props in the human charade; the Cullens
were good customers at the Newton’s store. He grabbed a down sleeping bag, a small tent, and several
packets of dehydrated food — grinning when I made a face at them — and stuffed them all in a backpack.
Alice wandered into the garage while we were there, watching Edward’s preparations without a word. He
ignored her.
When he was done packing, Edward handed me his phone. “Why don’t you call Jacob and tell him we’ll
be ready for him in an hour or so. He knows where to meet us.”
Jacob wasn’t home, but Billy promised to call around until he could find an available werewolf to pass the
news to.
“Don’t you worry about Charlie, Bella,” Billy said. “I’ve got my part of this under control.”
“Yeah, I know Charlie’ll be fine.” I didn’t feel so confident about his son’s safety, but I didn’t add that.
“I wish I could be with the rest of them tomorrow.” Billy chuckled regretfully. “Being an old man is a
hardship, Bella.”
The urge to fight must be a defining characteristic of the Y chromosome. They were all the same.
“Have fun with Charlie.”
“Good luck, Bella,” he answered. “And . . . pass that along to the, er, Cullens for me.”
“I will,” I promised, surprised by the gesture.
As I gave the phone back to Edward, I saw that he and Alice were having some kind of silent discussion.
She was staring at him, pleading in her eyes. He was frowning back, unhappy with whatever she wanted.
“Billy said to tell you ‘good luck.’”
“That was generous of him,” Edward said, breaking away from her.
“Bella, could I please speak to you alone?” Alice asked swiftly.
“You’re about to make my life harder than it needs to be, Alice,” Edward warned her through his teeth.
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“This isn’t about you, Edward,” she shot back.
He laughed. Something about her response was funny to him.
“It’s not,” Alice insisted. “This is a female thing.”
He frowned.
“Let her talk to me,” I told him. I was curious.
“You asked for it,” he muttered. He laughed again — half angry, half amused — and strode out of the
garage.
I turned to Alice, worried now, but she didn’t look at me. Her bad mood hadn’t passed yet.
She went to sit on the hood of her Porsche, her face dejected. I followed, and leaned against the bumper
beside her.
“Bella?” Alice asked in a sad voice, shifting over and curling up against my side. Her voice sounded so
miserable that I wrapped my arms around her shoulders in comfort.
“What’s wrong, Alice?”
“Don’t you love me?” she asked in that same sad tone.
“Of course I do. You know that.”
“Then why do I see you sneaking off to Vegas to get married without inviting me?”
“Oh,” I muttered, my cheeks turning pink. I could see that I had seriously hurt her feelings, and I hurried to
defend myself. “You know how I hate to make a big deal out of things. It was Edward’s idea, anyway.”
“I don’t care whose idea it was. How could you do this to me? I expect that kind of thing from Edward,
but not from you. I love you like you were my own sister.”
“To me, Alice, you are my sister.”
“Words!” she growled.
“Fine, you can come. There won’t be much to see.”
She was still grimacing.
“What?” I demanded.
“How much do you love me, Bella?”
“Why?”
She stared at me with pleading eyes, her long black eyebrows slanting up in the middle and pulling
together, her lips trembling at the corners. It was a heart-breaking expression.
“Please, please, please,” she whispered. “Please, Bella, please — if you really love me . . . Please let me
do your wedding.”
“Aw, Alice!” I groaned, pulling away and standing up. “No! Don’t do this to me.”
“If you really, truly love me, Bella.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “That is so unfair. And Edward kind of already used that one on me.”
“I’ll bet Edward would like it better if you did this traditionally, though he’d never tell you that. And Esme
— think what it would mean to her!”
I groaned. “I’d rather face the newborns alone.”
“I’ll owe you for a decade.”
“You’d owe me for a century!”
Her eyes glowed. “Is that a yes?”
“No! I don’t want to do this!”
“You won’t have to do anything but walk a few yards and then repeat after the minister.”
“Ugh! Ugh, ugh!”
“Please?” She started bouncing in place. “Please, please, please, please, please?”
“I’ll never, never ever forgive you for this, Alice.”
“Yay!” she squealed, clapping her hands together.
“That’s not a yes!”
“But it will be,” she sang.
“Edward!” I yelled, stalking out of the garage. “I know you’re listening. Get over here.” Alice was right
behind me, still clapping.
“Thanks so much, Alice,” Edward said acidly, coming from behind me. I turned to let him have it, but his
expression was so worried and upset that I couldn’t speak my complaints. I threw my arms around him
instead, hiding my face, just in case the angry moisture in my eyes made it look like I was crying.
“Vegas,” Edward promised in my ear.
“Not a chance,” Alice gloated. “Bella would never do that to me. You know, Edward, as a brother, you
are sometimes a disappointment.”
“Don’t be mean,” I grumbled at her. “He’s trying to make me happy, unlike you.”
“I’m trying to make you happy, too, Bella. It’s just that I know better what will make you happy . . . in the
long run. You’ll thank me for this. Maybe not for fifty years, but definitely someday.”
“I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be willing to take a bet against you, Alice, but it has arrived.”
She laughed her silvery laugh. “So, are you going to show me the ring?”
I grimaced in horror as she grabbed my left hand and then dropped it just as quickly.
“Huh. I saw him put it on you. . . . Did I miss something?” she asked. She concentrated for half a second,
furrowing her brow, before she answered her own questions. “No. Wedding’s still on.”
“Bella has issues with jewelry,” Edward explained.
