When I woke up, there was no disorientation. I opened my eyes-finally dry-and met his anxious gaze.
"Hey," I said. My voice was hoarse. I cleared my throat.
He didn't answer. He watched me, waiting for it to start.
"No, I'm fine," I promised. "That won't happen again."
His eyes tightened at my words.
"I'm sorry that you had to see that," I said. "That wasn't fair to you."
He put his hands on either side of my face.
"Bella . . . are you sure? Did you make the right choice? I've never seen you in so much pain-" His voice broke on the last word.
But I had known worse pain.
I touched his lips. "Yes."
"I don't know . . ." His brow creased. "If it hurts you so much, how can it possibly be the right thing for you?"
"Edward, I know who I can't live without."
"But . . ."
I shook my head. "You don't understand. You may be brave enough or strong enough to live without me, if that's what's best. But I could never be that self-sacrificing. I have to be with you. It's the only way I can live."
He still looked dubious. I should never have let him stay with me last night. But I had needed him so much . . .
"Hand me that book, will you?" I asked, pointing over his shoulder.
His eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but he gave it to me quickly.
"This again?" he asked.
"I just wanted to find this one part I remembered . . . to see how she said it . . ." I flipped through the book, finding the page I wanted easily. The corner was dog-eared from the many times I'd stopped here. "Cathy's a monster, but there were a few things she got right," I muttered. I read the lines quietly, mostly to myself. "'If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.'" I nodded, again to myself. "I know exactly what she means. And I know who I can't live without."
Edward took the book from my hands and flipped it across the room-it landed with a light thud on my desk. He wrapped his arms around my waist.
A small smile lit his perfect face, though worry still lined his forehead. "Heathcliff had his moments, too," he said. He didn't need the book to get it word perfect. He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear, "'I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'"
"Yes," I said quietly. "That's my point."
"Bella, I can't stand for you to be miserable. Maybe . . ."
"No, Edward. I've made a real mess of things, and I'm going to have to live with that. But I know what I want and what I need . . . and what I'm going to do now."
"What are we going to do now?"
I smiled just a bit at his correction, and then I sighed. "We are going to go see Alice."
Alice was on the bottom porch step, too hyper to wait for us inside. She looked about to break into a celebration dance, so excited was she about the news she knew I was there to deliver.
"Thank you, Bella!" she sang as we got out of the truck.
"Hold it, Alice," I warned her, lifting a hand up to halt her glee. "I've got a few limitations for you."
"I know, I know, I know. I only have until August thirteenth at the latest, you have veto power on the guest list, and if I go overboard on anything, you'll never speak to me again."
"Oh, okay. Well, yeah. You know the rules, then."
"Don't worry, Bella, it will be perfect. Do you want to see your dress?"
I had to take a few deep breaths. Whatever makes her happy, I said to myself.
"Sure."
Alice's smile was smug.
"Um, Alice," I said, keeping the casual, unruffled tone in my voice. "When did you get me a dress?"
It probably wasn't much of a show. Edward squeezed my hand.
Alice led the way inside, heading for the stairs. "These things take time, Bella," Alice explained. Her tone seemed . . . evasive. "I mean, I wasn't sure things were going to turn out this way, but there was a distinct possibility . . ."
"When?" I asked again.
"Perrine Bruyere has a waiting list, you know," she said, defensive now. "Fabric masterpieces don't happen overnight. If I hadn't thought ahead, you'd be wearing something off the rack!"
It didn't look like I was going to get a straight answer. "Per-who?"
"He's not a major designer, Bella, so there's no need to throw a hissy fit. He's got promise, though, and he specializes in what I needed."
"I'm not throwing a fit."
"No, you're not." She eyed my calm face suspiciously. Then, as we walked into her room, she turned on Edward.