“Sixteen days before the wedding.” I’d done the mental math thoroughly enough just before to be able to answer with certainty.
“How do you feel?”
“Weird,” I told him, and my voice broke. Another trickle of tears dribbled down my cheeks. “This is going to sound crazy—look, I know it’s way too early for any of this. Maybe I am crazy. But I’m having bizarre dreams and eating all the time and crying and throwing up and… and… I swear something moved inside me just now.”
Edward’s head snapped up.
I sighed in relief.
Edward held his hand out for the phone, his face white and hard.
“Um, I think Edward wants to talk to you.”
“Put him on,” Carlisle said in a strained voice.
Not entirely sure that Edward could talk, I put the phone in his outstretched hand.
He pressed it to his ear. “Is it possible?” he whispered.
He listened for a long time, staring blankly at nothing.
“And Bella?” he asked. His arm wrapped around me as he spoke, pulling me close into his side.
He listened for what seemed like a long time and then said, “Yes. Yes, I will.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the “end” button. Right away, he dialed a new number.
“What did Carlisle say?” I asked impatiently.
Edward answered in a lifeless voice. “He thinks you’re pregnant.”
The words sent a warm shiver down my spine. The little nudger fluttered inside me.
“Who are you calling now?” I asked as he put the phone back to his ear.
“The airport. We’re going home.”
Edward was on the phone for more than an hour without a break. I guessed that he was arranging our flight home, but I couldn’t be sure because he wasn’t speaking English. It sounded like he was arguing; he spoke through his teeth a lot.
While he argued, he packed. He whirled around the room like an angry tornado, leaving order rather than destruction in his path. He threw a set of my clothes on the bed without looking at them, so I assumed it was time for me to get dressed. He continued with his argument while I changed, gesturing with sudden, agitated movements.
When I could no longer bear the violent energy radiating out of him, I quietly left the room. His manic concentration made me sick to my stomach—not like the morning sickness, just uncomfortable. I would wait somewhere else for his mood to pass. I couldn’t talk to this icy, focused Edward who honestly frightened me a little.
Once again, I ended up in the kitchen. There was a bag of pretzels in the cupboard. I started chewing on them absently, staring out the window at the sand and rocks and trees and ocean, everything glittering in the sun.
Someone nudged me.
“I know,” I said. “I don’t want to go, either.”
I stared out the window for a moment, but the nudger didn’t respond.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “What is wrong here?”
Surprising, absolutely. Astonishing, even. But wrong?
No.
So why was Edward so furious? He was the one who had actually wished out loud for a shotgun wedding.
I tried to reason through it.
Maybe it wasn’t so confusing that Edward wanted us to go home right away. He’d want Carlisle to check me out, make sure my assumption was right—though there was absolutely no doubt in my head at this point. Probably they’d want to figure out why I was already so pregnant, with the bump and the nudging and all of that. That wasn’t normal.
Once I thought of this, I was sure I had it. He must be so worried about the baby. I hadn’t gotten around to freaking out yet. My brain worked slower than his—it was still stuck marveling over the picture it had conjured up before: the tiny child with Edward’s eyes—green, as his had been when he was human—lying fair and beautiful in my arms. I hoped he would have Edward’s face exactly, with no interference from mine.
It was funny how abruptly and entirely necessary this vision had become. From that first little touch, the whole world had shifted. Where before there was just one thing I could not live without, now there were two. There was no division—my love was not split between them now; it wasn’t like that. It was more like my heart had grown, swollen up to twice its size in that moment. All that extra space, already filled. The increase was almost dizzying.
I’d never really understood Rosalie’s pain and resentment before. I’d never imagined myself a mother, never wanted that. It had been a piece of cake to promise Edward that I didn’t care about giving up children for him, because I truly didn’t. Children, in the abstract, had never appealed to me. They seemed to be loud creatures, often dripping some form of goo. I’d never had much to do with them. When I’d dreamed of Renée providing me with a brother, I’d always imagined an older brother. Someone to take care of me, rather than the other way around.
This child, Edward’s child, was a whole different story.
I wanted him like I wanted air to breathe. Not a choice—a necessity.
Maybe I just had a really bad imagination. Maybe that was why I’d been unable to imagine that I would like being married until after I already was—unable to see that I would want a baby until after one was already coming.…
As I put my hand on my stomach, waiting for the next nudge, tears streaked down my cheeks again.
“Bella?”
I turned, made wary by the tone of his voice. It was too cold, too careful. His face matched his voice, empty and hard.
And then he saw that I was crying.
“Bella!” He crossed the room in a flash and put his hands on my face. “Are you in pain?”
“No, no—”
He pulled me against his chest. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll be home in sixteen hours. You’ll be fine. Carlisle will be ready when we get there. We’ll take care of this, and you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”
“Take care of this? What do you mean?”
He leaned away and looked me in the eye. “We’re going to get that thing out before it can hurt any part of you. Don’t be scared. I won’t let it hurt you.”
“That thing?” I gasped.
He looked sharply away from me, toward the front door. “Dammit! I forgot Gustavo was due today. I’ll get rid of him and be right back.” He darted out of the room.
I clutched the counter for support. My knees were wobbly.
Edward had just called my little nudger a thing. He said Carlisle would get it out.
“No,” I whispered.
I’d gotten it wrong before. He didn’t care about the baby at all. He wanted to hurt him. The beautiful picture in my head shifted abruptly, changed into something dark. My pretty baby crying, my weak arms not enough to protect him.…
What could I do? Would I be able to reason with them? What if I couldn’t? Did this explain Alice’s strange silence on the phone? Is that what she’d seen? Edward and Carlisle killing that pale, perfect child before he could live?
“No,” I whispered again, my voice stronger. That could not be. I would not allow it.
I heard Edward speaking Portuguese again. Arguing again. His voice got closer, and I heard him grunt in exasperation. Then I heard another voice, low and timid. A woman’s voice.
He came into the kitchen ahead of her and went straight to me. He wiped the tears from my cheeks and murmured in my ear through the thin, hard line of his lips.
“She’s insisting on leaving the food she brought—she made us dinner.” If he had been less tense, less furious, I knew he would have rolled his eyes. “It’s an excuse—she wants to make sure I haven’t killed you yet.” His voice went ice cold at the end.
Kaure edged nervously around the corner with a covered dish in her hands. I wished I could speak Portuguese, or that my Spanish was less rudimentary, so that I could try to thank this woman who had dared to anger a vampire just to check on me.