I briefly contemplated my issues with words like fiancé, wedding, husband, etc. I just couldn’t put it together in my head. On the one hand, I had been raised to cringe at the very thought of poofy white dresses and bouquets. But more than that, I just couldn’t reconcile a staid, respectable, dull concept like husband with my concept of Edward. It was like casting an archangel as an accountant; I couldn’t visualize him in any commonplace role.
“I figured I’d died, but I tried to open my eyes anyway. And then I saw herand I knew I was dead. I didn’t even mind the pain. I fought to keep my eyes open - I didn’t want to miss one second of the angel’s face.”
This child, Edward’s child, was a whole different story.
I wanted him like I wanted air to breathe. Not a choice—a necessity.
Maybe I just had a really bad imagination. Maybe that was why I’d been unable to
imagine that I would like being married until after I already was—unable to see
that I would want a baby until after one was already coming.…
As I put my hand on my stomach, waiting for the next nudge, tears streaked
down my cheeks again.