It was hard to let him go and wake up. This dream did not want to be shoved away into the vault of dreams I refused to revisit. I struggled with it as my mind became more alert, focusing on reality. I couldn't remember what day of the week it was, but I was sure Jacob or school or work or something was waiting for me. I inhaled deeply, wondering how to face another day.
Something cold touched my forehead with the softest pressure.
I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still dreaming, it seemed, and it felt abnormally real. I was so close to waking . . . any second now, and it would be gone.
But I realized that it felt too real, too real to be good for me. The stone arms I imagined wrapped around me were far too substantial. If I let this go any further, I'd be sorry for it later. With a resigned sigh, I wrenched back my eyelids to dispel the illusion.
"Oh!" I gasped, and threw my fists over my eyes.
Well, clearly, I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination get so out of hand. Okay, so "let" was the wrong word. I'd forced it to get out of hand-pretty much stalked my hallucinations-and now my mind had snapped.
It took less than half a second for me to realize that, as long as I was truly insane now, I might as well enjoy the delusions while they were pleasant.
I opened my eyes again-and Edward was still there, his perfect face just inches away from mine.
"Did I frighten you?" His low voice was anxious.
This was very good, as delusions went. The face, the voice, the scent, everything-it was so much better than drowning. The beautiful figment of my imagination watched my changing expressions with alarm. His irises were pitch-black, with bruise-like shadows under them. This surprised me; my hallucinatory Edwards were usually better fed.
I blinked twice, desperately trying to remember the last thing that I was sure was real. Alice was part of my dream, and I wondered if she had really come back at all, or if that was just the preamble. I thought she'd returned the day I'd nearly drowned . . .
"Oh, crap," I croaked. My throat was thick with sleeping.
"What's wrong, Bella?"
I frowned at him unhappily. His face was even more anxious than before.
"I'm dead, right?" I moaned. "I did drown. Crap, crap, crap! This is gonna kill Charlie."
Edward frowned, too. "You're not dead."
"Then why am I not waking up?" I challenged, raising my eyebrows.
"You are awake, Bella."
I shook my head. "Sure, sure. That's what you want me to think. And then it will be worse when I do wake up. If I wake up, which I won't, because I'm dead. This is awful. Poor Charlie. And Renée and Jake . . ." I trailed off in horror at what I had done.
"I can see where you might confuse me with a nightmare." His short-lived smile was grim. "But I can't imagine what you could have done to wind up in hell. Did you commit many murders while I was away?"
I grimaced. "Obviously not. If I was in hell, you wouldn't be with me."
He sighed.
My head was getting clearer. My eyes flickered away from his face-unwillingly-for one second, to the dark, open window, and then back to him. I started to remember details . . . and I felt a faint, unfamiliar blush warm the skin over my cheekbones as I slowly realized that Edward was really, truly here with me, and I was wasting time being an idiot.
"Did all of that really happen, then?" It was almost impossible to reassign my dream as reality. I couldn't wrap my head around the concept.
"That depends." Edward's smile was still hard. "If you're referring to us nearly being massacred in Italy, then, yes."
"How strange," I mused. "I really went to Italy. Did you know I'd never been farther east than Albuquerque?"
He rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to sleep. You're not coherent."
"I'm not tired anymore." It was all coming clear now. "What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?"
"It's just after one in the morning. So, about fourteen hours."
I stretched as he spoke. I was so stiff.
"Charlie?" I asked.
Edward frowned. "Sleeping. You should probably know that I'm breaking the rules right now. Well, not technically, since he said I was never to walk through his door again, and I came in the window . . . But, still, the intent was clear."
"Charlie banned you from the house?" I asked, disbelief quickly melting into fury.
His eyes were sad. "Did you expect anything else?"
My eyes were mad. I was going to have a few words with my father-perhaps it would be a good time to remind him that I was over the legal age of adulthood. It didn't matter so much, of course, except in principle. All too soon there would be no reason for the prohibition. I turned my thoughts to less painful avenues.