Breaking Dawn   ::   Meyer Stephenie

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“You’re not… mad? You don’t think I’m making a humongous mistake?”

“Well,sure, I wish you’d wait a few more years. I mean, do I look old enough to be a mother-in-law to you? Don’t answer that. But this isn’t about me. This is about you. Are you happy?”

“I don’t know. I’m having an out-of-body experience right now.”

Renée had chuckled. “Does he make you happy, Bella?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you ever going to want anyone else?”

“No, but—”

“But what?”

“But aren’t you going to say that I sound exactly like every other infatuated teenager since the dawn of time?”

“You’ve never been a teenager, sweetie. You know what’s best for you .”

For the last few weeks, Renée had unexpectedly immersed herself in wedding plans. She’d spent hours every day on the phone with Edward’s mother, Esme—no worries about the in-laws getting along. Renée adored Esme, but then, I doubted anyone could help responding that way to my lovable almost-mother-in-law.

It let me right off the hook. Edward’s family and my family were taking care of the nuptials together without my having to do or know or think too hard about any of it.

Charlie was furious, of course, but the sweet part was that he wasn’t furious at me . Renée was the traitor. He’d counted on her to play the heavy. What could he do now, when his ultimate threat—telling Mom—had turned out to be utterly empty? He had nothing, and he knew it. So he moped around the house, muttering things about not being able to trust anyone in this world. . . .

“Dad?” I called as I pushed open the front door. “I’m home.”

“Hold on, Bells, stay right there.”

“Huh?” I asked, pausing automatically.

“Gimme a second. Ouch, you got me, Alice.”

Alice?

“Sorry, Charlie,” Alice’s trilling voice responded. “How’s that?”

“I’m bleeding on it.”

“You’re fine. Didn’t break the skin—trust me.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded, hesitating in the doorway.

“Thirty seconds, please, Bella,” Alice told me. “Your patience will be rewarded.”

“Humph,” Charlie added.

I tapped my foot, counting each beat. Before I got to thirty, Alice said, “Okay, Bella, come in!”

Moving with caution, I rounded the little corner into our living room.

“Oh,” I huffed. “Aw. Dad. Don’t you look—”

“Silly?” Charlie interrupted.

“I was thinking more like debonair. ”

Charlie blushed.

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