Midnight Sun

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…,” I whispered.
Her eyes were so open and accessible for one second, and then she flushed again and looked down. She steadied her breath for a moment, and her impish smile returned.
“What a stupid lamb,” she teased, stretching out the joke.
“What a sick, masochistic lion,” I countered.

“Isabella… Bella.” It was a pleasure just to say her name. It felt like a kind of avowal. This is the name to which I belong.

Would she think better or worse of us if she knew that Carlisle had required our attendance at their funerals? Not just these two, but every victim of our mistakes and lapses. Were we a tiny bit less damned because we had listened to those who knew them best describe their shortened lives? Because we bore witness to the tears and cries of pain? The monetary aid we’d anonymously provided to make sure there was no unnecessary physical suffering seemed crass in retrospect. Such a weak recompense.

Edward? Can it be?
My father was following close behind her now, catching up with his longer stride.
There was nothing but a desperate hope in his thoughts. No judgment. Not yet.
“Edward!” Esme shouted with an unmistakable ring of joy in her voice.
And then she was upon me, her arms wrapped tight around my neck, her lips kissing my cheek over and over again. Please don’t go away again.
Only a second later, Carlisle’s arms encircled us both.
Thank you, he thought, his mind fervent with sincerity. Thank you for coming back to us.
“Carlisle… Esme… I’m so sorry. I’m so—”
“Shush, now,” Esme whispered, tucking her head against my neck and breathing in my scent. My boy.

Relief followed by disgust. Loathing. Revulsion. All the emotions I’d feared to see in her eyes today multiplied by a hundred years and the sure knowledge that I deserved them and more. Monster, nightmare, destroyer of lives, mutilator of dreams—hers and mine both.

“Maybe it’s a bit too soon for your eyes,” I allowed.
A shrug. “Time to visit the optometrist.”

“Everything will be all right, Esme.” It was so easy for me to lie to her. I was the only one who could ever lie in this house.
Yes, it will be. She couldn’t be in better hands.
I laughed, again without humor. But I would try to prove my mother right.

“How late is it?” She looked at the dashboard clock as she asked.
I stared at the clouds—though they were thick, it was obvious where the sun must be behind them.
“It’s twilight,” I said. The time when vampires came out to play—when we never had to fear that a shifting cloud might cause us trouble—when we could enjoy the last remnants of light in the sky without worrying that we would be exposed.

Her smile was more subdued now. “I have a lot of questions. But I know—”
We spoke the words simultaneously.
“Today is my day.”
“Today is your day.”
Our laughs were synchronized now, too, and I thought how strangely easy it was to be with her this way.

Oops, Emmett thought.
I curled my hands into fists and concentrated on staying in my seat.
Sorry, I was trying not to think about that.
I glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes before I could punch him in the face.