Twilight Tenth Anniversary Edition

by Stephenie Meyer

  “Welcome back,” he murmured, taking me into his arms.

  He rocked me for a while in silence, until I noticed that his clothes were changed, his hair smooth.

  “You left?” I accused, touching the collar of his fresh shirt.

  “I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in—what would the neighbors think?”

  I pouted.

  “You were very deeply asleep; I didn’t miss anything.” His eyes gleamed. “The talking came earlier.”

  I groaned. “What did you hear?”

  His gold eyes grew very soft. “You said you loved me.”

  “You knew that already,” I reminded him, ducking my head.

  “It was nice to hear, just the same.”

  I hid my face against his shoulder.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “You are my life now,” he answered simply.

  There was nothing more to say for the moment. He rocked us back and forth as the room grew lighter.

  “Breakfast time,” he said eventually, casually—to prove, I’m sure, that he remembered all my human frailties.

  So I clutched my throat with both hands and stared at him with wide eyes. Shock crossed his face.

  “Kidding!” I snickered. “And you said I couldn’t act!”

  He frowned in disgust. “That wasn’t funny.”

  “It was very funny, and you know it.” But I examined his gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was forgiven. Apparently, I was.

  “Shall I rephrase?” he asked. “Breakfast time for the human.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  He threw me over his stone shoulder, gently, but with a swiftness that left me breathless. I protested as he carried me easily down the stairs, but he ignored me. He sat me right side up on a chair.

  The kitchen was bright, happy, seeming to absorb my mood.

  “What’s for breakfast?” I asked pleasantly.

  That threw him for a minute.

  “Er, I’m not sure. What would you like?” His marble brow puckered.

  I grinned, hopping up.

  “That’s all right, I fend for myself pretty well. Watch me hunt.”

  I found a bowl and a box of cereal. I could feel his eyes on me as I poured the milk and grabbed a spoon. I sat my food on the table, and then paused.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked, not wanting to be rude.

  He rolled his eyes. “Just eat, Bella.”

  I sat at the table, watching him as I took a bite. He was gazing at me, studying my every movement. It made me self-conscious. I cleared my mouth to speak, to distract him.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked.

  “Hmmm…” I watched him frame his answer carefully. “What would you say to meeting my family?”

  I gulped.

  “Are you afraid now?” He sounded hopeful.

  “Yes,” I admitted; how could I deny it—he could see my eyes.

  “Don’t worry.” He smirked. “I’ll protect you.”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” I explained. “I’m afraid they won’t… like me. Won’t they be, well, surprised that you would bring someone… like me… home to meet them? Do they know that I know about them?”

  “Oh, they already know everything. They’d taken bets yesterday, you know”—he smiled, but his voice was harsh—“on whether I’d bring you back, though why anyone would bet against Alice, I can’t imagine. At any rate, we don’t have secrets in the family. It’s not really feasible, what with my mind reading and Alice seeing the future and all that.”

  “And Jasper making you feel all warm and fuzzy about spilling your guts, don’t forget that.”

  “You paid attention,” he smiled approvingly.

  “I’ve been known to do that every now and then.” I grimaced. “So did Alice see me coming?”

  His reaction was strange. “Something like that,” he said uncomfortably, turning away so I couldn’t see his eyes. I stared at him curiously.

  “Is that any good?” he asked, turning back to me abruptly and eyeing my breakfast with a teasing look on his face. “Honestly, it doesn’t look very appetizing.”

  “Well, it’s no irritable grizzly…,” I murmured, ignoring him when he glowered. I was still wondering why he responded that way when I mentioned Alice. I hurried through my cereal, speculating.

  He stood in the middle of the kitchen, the statue of Adonis again, staring abstractedly out the back windows.

  Then his eyes were back on me, and he smiled his heartbreaking smile.

  “And you should introduce me to your father, too, I think.”

  “He already knows you,” I reminded him.

  “As your boyfriend, I mean.”

  I stared at him with suspicion. “Why?”

  “Isn’t that customary?” he asked innocently.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. My dating history gave me few reference points to work with. Not that any normal rules of dating applied here. “That’s not necessary, you know. I don’t expect you to… I mean, you don’t have to pretend for me.”

  His smile was patient. “I’m not pretending.”

  I pushed the remains of my cereal around the edges of the bowl, biting my lip.

  “Are you going to tell Charlie I’m your boyfriend or not?” he demanded.

  “Is that what you are?” I suppressed my internal cringing at the thought of Edward and Charlie and the word boyfriend all in the same room at the same time.

  “It’s a loose interpretation of the word ‘boy,’ I’ll admit.”

  “I was under the impression that you were something more, actually,” I confessed, looking at the table.

  “Well, I don’t know if we need to give him all the gory details.” He reached across the table to lift my chin with a cold, gentle finger. “But he will need some explanation for why I’m around here so much. I don’t want Chief Swan getting a restraining order put on me.”

  “Will you be?” I asked, suddenly anxious. “Will you really be here?”

  “As long as you want me,” he assured me.

  “I’ll always want you,” I warned him. “Forever.”

  He walked slowly around the table, and, pausing a few feet away, he reached out to touch his fingertips to my cheek. His expression was unfathomable.

  “Does that make you sad?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. He stared into my eyes for an immeasurable period of time.

  “Are you finished?” he finally asked.

  I jumped up. “Yes.”

  “Get dressed—I’ll wait here.”

  It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any etiquette books detailing how to dress when your vampire sweetheart takes you home to meet his vampire family. It was a relief to think the word to myself. I knew I shied away from it intentionally.

  I ended up in my only skirt—long, khaki-colored, still casual. I put on the dark blue blouse he’d once complimented. A quick glance in the mirror told me my hair was entirely impossible, so I pulled it back into a ponytail.

  “Okay.” I bounced down the stairs. “I’m decent.”

  He was waiting at the foot of the stairs, closer than I’d thought, and I bounded right into him. He steadied me, holding me a careful distance away for a few seconds before suddenly pulling me closer.

  “Wrong again,” he murmured in my ear. “You are utterly indecent—no one should look so tempting, it’s not fair.”

  “Tempting how?” I asked. “I can change…”

  He sighed, shaking his head. “You are so absurd.” He pressed his cool lips delicately to my forehead, and the room spun. The smell of his breath made it impossible to think.

  “Shall I explain how you are tempting me?” he said. It was clearly a rhetorical question. His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were limp on his chest, and I felt lightheaded again. He tilted his head slowly and touched his cool lips to mine for the second time,
very carefully, parting them slightly.

  And then I collapsed.

  “Bella?” His voice was alarmed as he caught me and held me up.

  “You… made… me… faint,” I accused him dizzily.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he groaned in exasperation. “Yesterday I kiss you, and you attack me! Today you pass out on me!”

  I laughed weakly, letting his arms support me while my head spun.

  “So much for being good at everything,” he sighed.

  “That’s the problem.” I was still dizzy. “You’re too good. Far, far too good.”

  “Do you feel sick?” he asked; he’d seen me like this before.

  “No—that wasn’t the same kind of fainting at all. I don’t know what happened.” I shook my head apologetically. “I think I forgot to breathe.”

  “I can’t take you anywhere like this.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Your family is going to think I’m insane anyway, what’s the difference?”

  He measured my expression for a moment. “I’m very partial to that color with your skin,” he offered unexpectedly. I flushed with pleasure, and looked away.

  “Look, I’m trying really hard not to think about what I’m about to do, so can we go already?” I asked.

  “And you’re worried, not because you’re headed to meet a houseful of vampires, but because you think those vampires won’t approve of you, correct?”

  “That’s right,” I answered immediately, hiding my surprise at his casual use of the word.

  He shook his head. “You’re incredible.”

  I realized, as he drove my truck out of the main part of town, that I had no idea where he lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past us growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the other houses altogether, driving through misty forest. I was trying to decide whether to ask or be patient, when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpentlike, around the ancient trees.

  And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn’t relent, though, for there were six primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first story.

  I don’t know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration. My truck was the only car in sight. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

  “Wow.”

  “You like it?” He smiled.

  “It… has a certain charm.”

  He pulled the end of my ponytail and chuckled.

  “Ready?” he asked, opening my door.

  “Not even a little bit—let’s go.” I tried to laugh, but it seemed to get stuck in my throat. I smoothed my hair nervously.

  “You look lovely.” He took my hand easily, without thinking about it.

  We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew he could feel my tension; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand.

  He opened the door for me.

  The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

  Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Edward’s parents.

  I’d seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn’t help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I’d never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me of the ingenues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less angular, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome, but made no move to approach us. Trying not to frighten me, I guessed.

  “Carlisle, Esme,” Edward’s voice broke the short silence, “this is Bella.”

  “You’re very welcome, Bella.” Carlisle’s step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to shake hands with him.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen.”

  “Please, call me Carlisle.”

  “Carlisle.” I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. I could feel Edward’s relief at my side.

  Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I expected.

  “It’s very nice to know you,” she said sincerely.

  “Thank you. I’m glad to meet you, too.” And I was. It was like meeting a fairy tale—Snow White, in the flesh.

  “Where are Alice and Jasper?” Edward asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.

  “Hey, Edward!” Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but I liked it. It was natural—for her, anyway.

  “Hi, Bella!” Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in my eyes, too, but I was also very pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely. I was startled to feel Edward stiffen at my side. I glanced at his face, but his expression was unreadable.

  “You do smell nice, I never noticed before,” she commented, to my extreme embarrassment.

  No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there—tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable despite where I was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do.

  “Hello, Bella,” Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.

  “Hello, Jasper.” I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. “It’s nice to meet you all—you have a very beautiful home,” I added conventionally.

  “Thank you,” Esme said. “We’re so glad that you came.” She spoke with feeling, and I realized that she thought I was brave.

  I also realized that Rosalie and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Edward’s too-innocent denial when I’d asked him if the others didn’t like me.

  Carlisle’s expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward nod once.

  I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn’t really good—she only played for herself on our secondhand upright—but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed—she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then, someone outside the “mom” persona I took for granted. She’d put me through lesso
ns, of course, but like most kids, I whined until she let me quit.

  Esme noticed my preoccupation.

  “Do you play?” she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

  I shook my head. “Not at all. But it’s so beautiful. Is it yours?”

  “No,” she laughed. “Edward didn’t tell you he was musical?”

  “No.” I glared at his suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. “I should have known, I guess.”

  Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.

  “Edward can do everything, right?” I explained.

  Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a reproving look.

  “I hope you haven’t been showing off—it’s rude,” she scolded.

  “Just a bit,” he laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that I didn’t understand, though Esme’s face seemed almost smug.

  “He’s been too modest, actually,” I corrected.

  “Well, play for her,” Esme encouraged.

  “You just said showing off was rude,” he objected.

  “There are exceptions to every rule,” she replied.

  “I’d like to hear you play,” I volunteered.

  “It’s settled then.” Esme pushed him toward the piano. He pulled me along, sitting me on the bench beside him.

  He gave me a long, exasperated look before he turned to the keys.

  And then his fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, and the room was filled with a composition so complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played. I felt my chin drop, my mouth open in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind me at my reaction.

  Edward looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a break, and winked. “Do you like it?”

  “You wrote this?” I gasped, understanding.

  He nodded. “It’s Esme’s favorite.”

  I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m feeling extremely insignificant.”

  The music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to my surprise I detected the melody of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.

  “You inspired this one,” he said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.