And we began where my dream had left off.

I stayed very still when I woke up in the morning and tried to keep my breathing even. I was afraid to open my eyes.

I was lying across Edward’s chest, but he was very still and his arms were not wrapped around me. That was a bad sign. I was afraid to admit I was awake and face his anger—no matter whom it was directed at today.

Carefully, I peeked through my eyelashes. He was staring up at the dark ceiling, his arms behind his head. I pulled myself up on my elbow so that I could see his face better. It was smooth, expressionless.

“How much trouble am I in?” I asked in a small voice.

“Heaps,” he said, but turned his head and smirked at me.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “I am sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean… Well, I don’t know exactly what that was last night.” I shook my head at the memory of the irrational tears, the crushing grief.

“You never did tell me what your dream was about.”

“I guess I didn’t—but I sort of showed you what it was about.” I laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he said. His eyes widened, and then he blinked. “Interesting.”

“It was a very good dream,” I murmured. He didn’t comment, so a few seconds later I asked, “Am I forgiven?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

I sat up, planning to examine myself—there didn’t seem to be any feathers, at least. But as I moved, an odd wave of vertigo hit. I swayed and fell back against the pillows.

“Whoa… head rush.”

His arms were around me then. “You slept for a long time. Twelve hours.”

“Twelve?” How strange.

I gave myself a quick once-over while I spoke, trying to be inconspicuous about it. I looked fine. The bruises on my arms were still a week old, yellowing. I stretched experimentally. I felt fine, too. Well, better than fine, actually.

“Is the inventory complete?”

I nodded sheepishly. “The pillows all appear to have survived.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for your, er, nightgown.” He nodded toward the foot of the bed, where several scraps of black lace were strewn across the silk sheets.

“That’s too bad,” I said. “I liked that one.”

“I did, too.”

“Were there any other casualties?” I asked timidly.

“I’ll have to buy Esme a new bed frame,” he confessed, glancing over his shoulder. I followed his gaze and was shocked to see that large chunks of wood had apparently been gouged from the left side of the headboard.

“Hmm.” I frowned. “You’d think I would have heard that.”

“You seem to be extraordinarily unobservant when your attention is otherwise involved.”

“I was a bit absorbed,” I admitted, blushing a deep red.

He touched my burning cheek and sighed. “I’m really going to miss that.”

I stared at his face, searching for any signs of the anger or remorse I feared. He gazed back at me evenly, his expression calm but otherwise unreadable.

“How are you feeling?”

He laughed.

“What?” I demanded.

“You look so guilty—like you’ve committed a crime.”

“I feel guilty,” I muttered.

“So you seduced your all-too-willing husband. That’s not a capital offense.”

He seemed to be teasing.

My cheeks got hotter. “The word seduced implies a certain amount of premeditation.”

“Maybe that was the wrong word,” he allowed.

“You’re not angry?”

He smiled ruefully. “I’m not angry.”

“Why not?”

“Well . . .” He paused. “I didn’t hurt you, for one thing. It was easier this time, to control myself, to channel the excesses.” His eyes flickered to the damaged frame again. “Maybe because I had a better idea of what to expect.”

A hopeful smile started to spread across my face. “I told you that it was all about practice.”

He rolled his eyes.

My stomach growled, and he laughed. “Breakfast time for the human?” he asked.

“Please,” I said, hopping out of bed. I moved too quickly, though, and had to stagger drunkenly to regain my balance. He caught me before I could stumble into the dresser.

“Are you all right?”

“If I don’t have a better sense of equilibrium in my next life, I’m demanding a refund.”

I cooked this morning, frying up some eggs—too hungry to do anything more elaborate. Impatient, I flipped them onto a plate after just a few minutes.

“Since when do you eat eggs sunny-side up?” he asked.

“Since now.”

“Do you know how many eggs you’ve gone through in the last week?” He pulled the trash bin out from under the sink—it was full of empty blue cartons.

“Weird,” I said after swallowing a scorching bite. “This place is messing with my appetite.” And my dreams, and my already dubious balance. “But I like it here. We’ll probably have to leave soon, though, won’t we, to make it to Dartmouth in time? Wow, I guess we need to find a place to live and stuff, too.”

He sat down next to me. “You can give up the college pretense now—you’ve gotten what you wanted. And we didn’t agree to a deal, so there are no strings attached.”

I snorted. “It wasn’t a pretense, Edward. I don’t spend my free time plotting like some people do. What can we do to wear Bella out today?” I said in a poor impression of his voice. He laughed, unashamed. “I really do want a little more time being human.” I leaned over to run my hand across his bare chest. “I have not had enough.”

He gave me a dubious look. “For this?” he asked, catching my hand as it moved down his stomach. “Sex was the key all along?” He rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he muttered sarcastically. “I could have saved myself a lot of arguments.”

I laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

“You are so human,” he said again.

“I know.”

A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “We’re going to Dartmouth? Really?”

“I’ll probably fail out in one semester.”

“I’ll tutor you.” The smile was wide now. “You’re going to love college.”

“Do you think we can find an apartment this late?”

He grimaced, looking guilty. “Well, we sort of already have a house there. You know, just in case.”

“You bought a house?”

“Real estate is a good investment.”

I raised one eyebrow and then let it go. “So we’re ready, then.”

“I’ll have to see if we can keep your ‘before’ car for a little longer. . . .”

“Yes, heaven forbid I not be protected from tanks.”

He grinned.

“How much longer can we stay?” I asked.

“We’re fine on time. A few more weeks, if you want. And then we can visit Charlie before we go to New Hampshire. We could spend Christmas with Renee. . . .”

His words painted a very happy immediate future, one free of pain for everyone involved. The Jacob-drawer, all but forgotten, rattled, and I amended the thought—for almost everyone.

This wasn’t getting any easier. Now that I’d discovered exactly how good being human could be, it was tempting to let my plans drift. Eighteen or nineteen, nineteen or twenty… Did it really matter? I wouldn’t change so much in a year. And being human with Edward… The choice got trickier every day.

“A few weeks,” I agreed. And then, because there never seemed to be enough time, I added, “So I was thinking—you know what I was saying about practice before?”

He laughed. “Can you hold on to that thought? I hear a boat. The cleaning crew must be here.”

He wanted me to hold on to that thought. So did that mean he was not going to give me any more trouble about practicing? I smiled.

“Let me explain the mess in the white room to Gustavo, and then we can go out. There’s a place in the jungle on the south—”

“I don’t want to go out. I am not hiking all over the island today. I want to stay here and watch a movie.”

He pursed his lips, trying not to laugh at my disgruntled tone. “All right, whatever you’d like. Why don’t you pick one out while I get the door?”