“Okay. You kids have fun tonight.” It was clearly a dismissal. Charlie was already edging toward the living room and the TV.
Edward smiled, triumphant, and took my hand to pull me from the kitchen.
When we got to the truck, he opened the passenger door for me again, and this time I didn’t argue. I still had a hard time finding the obscure turnoff to his house in the dark.
Edward drove north through Forks, visibly chafing at the speed limit enforced by my prehistoric Chevy. The engine groaned even louder than usual as he pushed it over fifty.
“Take it easy,” I warned him.
“You know what you would love? A nice little Audi coupe. Very quiet, lots of power . . .”
“There’s nothing wrong with my truck. And speaking of expensive nonessentials, if you know what’s good for you, you didn’t spend any money on birthday presents.”
“Not a dime,” he said virtuously.
“Good.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“That depends on what it is.”
He sighed, his lovely face serious. “Bella, the last real birthday any of us had was Emmett in 1935. Cut us a little slack, and don’t be too difficult tonight. They’re all very excited.”
It always startled me a little when he brought up things like that. “Fine, I’ll behave.”
“I probably should warn you . . .”
“Please do.”
“When I say they’re all excited...I do mean all of them.”
“Everyone?” I choked. “I thought Emmett and Rosalie were in Africa.” The rest of Forks was under the impression that the older Cullens had gone off to college this year, to Dartmouth, but I knew better.
“Emmett wanted to be here.”
“But...Rosalie?”
“I know, Bella. Don’t worry, she’ll be on her best behavior.”
I didn’t answer. Like I could just not worry, that easy. Unlike Alice, Edward’s other “adopted” sister, the golden blond and exquisite Rosalie, didn’t like me much. Actually, the feeling was a little bit stronger than just dislike. As far as Rosalie was concerned, I was an unwelcome intruder into her family’s secret life.
I felt horribly guilty about the present situation, guessing that Rosalie and Emmett’s prolonged absence was my fault, even as I furtively enjoyed not having to see her. Emmett, Edward’s playful bear of a brother, I did miss. He was in many ways just like the big brother I’d always wanted...only much, much more terrifying.
Edward decided to change the subject. “So, if you won’t let me get you the Audi, isn’t there anything that you’d like for your birthday?”
The words came out in a whisper. “You know what I want.”
A deep frown carved creases into his marble forehead. He obviously wished he’d stuck to the subject of Rosalie.
It felt like we’d had this argument a lot today.
“Not tonight, Bella. Please.”
“Well, maybe Alice will give me what I want.”
Edward growled—a deep, menacing sound. “This isn’t going to be your last birthday, Bella,” he vowed.
“That’s not fair!”
I thought I heard his teeth clench together.
We were pulling up to the house now. Bright light shined from every window on the first two floors. A long line of glowing Japanese lanterns hung from the porch eaves, reflecting a soft radiance on the huge cedars that surrounded the house. Big bowls of flowers—pink roses—lined the wide stairs up to the front doors.
I moaned.
Edward took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “This is a party,” he reminded me. “Try to be a good sport.”
“Sure,” I muttered.
He came around to get my door, and offered me his hand.
“I have a question.”
He waited warily.
“If I develop this film,” I said, toying with the camera in my hands, “will you show up in the picture?”
Edward started laughing. He helped me out of the car, pulled me up the stairs, and was still laughing as he opened the door for me.
They were all waiting in the huge white living room; when I walked through the door, they greeted me with a loud chorus of “Happy birthday, Bella!” while I blushed and looked down. Alice, I assumed, had covered every flat surface with pink candles and dozens of crystal bowls filled with hundreds of roses. There was a table with a white cloth draped over it next to Edward’s grand piano, holding a pink birthday cake, more roses, a stack of glass plates, and a small pile of silver-wrapped presents.
It was a hundred times worse than I’d imagined.
Edward, sensing my distress, wrapped an encouraging arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head.
Edward’s parents, Carlisle and Esme—impossibly youthful and lovely as ever—were the closest to the door. Esme hugged me carefully, her soft, caramel-colored hair brushing against my cheek as she kissed my forehead, and then Carlisle put his arm around my shoulders.