The Twilight Saga Collection part 1(139)
“Why?” he repeated warily.
“Why you did it. Why didn’t you just let the venom spread? By now I would be just like you.”
Edward’s eyes seemed to turn flat black, and I remembered that this was something he’d never intended me to know. Alice must have been preoccupied by the things she’d learned about herself . . . or she’d been very careful with her thoughts around him — clearly, he’d had no idea that she’d filled me in on the mechanics of vampire conversions. He was surprised, and infuriated. His nostrils flared, his mouth looked as if it was chiseled from stone.
He wasn’t going to answer, that much was clear.
“I’ll be the first to admit that I have no experience with relationships,” I said. “But it just seems logical . . . a man and woman have to be somewhat equal . . . as in, one of them can’t always be swooping in and saving the other one. They have to save each other equally.”
He folded his arms on the side of my bed and rested his chin on his arms. His expression was smooth, the anger reined in. Evidently he’d decided he wasn’t angry with me. I hoped I’d get a chance to warn Alice before he caught up with her.
“You have saved me,” he said quietly.
“I can’t always be Lois Lane,” I insisted. “I want to be Superman, too.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice was soft; he stared intently at the edge of the pillowcase.
“I think I do.”
“Bella, you don’t know. I’ve had almost ninety years to think about this, and I’m still not sure.”
“Do you wish that Carlisle hadn’t saved you?”
“No, I don’t wish that.” He paused before continuing. “But my life was over. I wasn’t giving anything up.”
“You are my life. You’re the only thing it would hurt me to lose.” I was getting better at this. It was easy to admit how much I needed him.
He was very calm, though. Decided.
“I can’t do it, Bella. I won’t do that to you.”
“Why not?” My throat rasped and the words weren’t as loud as I’d meant them to be. “Don’t tell me it’s too hard! After today, or I guess it was a few days ago . . . anyway, after that, it should be nothing.”
He glared at me.
“And the pain?” he asked.
I blanched. I couldn’t help it. But I tried to keep my expression from showing how clearly I remembered the feeling . . . the fire in my veins.
“That’s my problem,” I said. “I can handle it.”
“It’s possible to take bravery to the point where it becomes insanity.”
“It’s not an issue. Three days. Big deal.”
Edward grimaced again as my words reminded him that I was more informed than he had ever intended me to be. I watched him repress the anger, watched as his eyes grew speculative.
“Charlie?” he asked curtly. “Renée?”
Minutes passed in silence as I struggled to answer his question. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I closed it again. He waited, and his expression became triumphant because he knew I had no true answer.
“Look, that’s not an issue either,” I finally muttered; my voice was as unconvincing as it always was when I lied. “Renée has always made the choices that work for her — she’d want me to do the same. And Charlie’s resilient, he’s used to being on his own. I can’t take care of them forever. I have my own life to live.”
“Exactly,” he snapped. “And I won’t end it for you.”
“If you’re waiting for me to be on my deathbed, I’ve got news for you! I was just there!”
“You’re going to recover,” he reminded me.
I took a deep breath to calm myself, ignoring the spasm of pain it triggered. I stared at him, and he stared back. There was no compromise in his face.
“No,” I said slowly. “I’m not.”
His forehead creased. “Of course you are. You may have a scar or two. . . .”
“You’re wrong,” I insisted. “I’m going to die.”
“Really, Bella.” He was anxious now. “You’ll be out of here in a few days. Two week at most.”
I glared at him. “I may not die now . . . but I’m going to die sometime. Every minute of the day, I get closer. And I’m going to get old.”
He frowned as what I was saying sunk in, pressing his long fingers to his temples and closing his eyes. “That’s how it’s supposed to happen. How it should happen. How it would have happened if I didn’t exist — and I shouldn’t exist.”