Every minute,

I remembered parts of this—twisting my fingers in his hair, tracing the planes of his chest—but other
parts were so new. He was new. It was an entirely different experience with Edward kissing me so
fearlessly, so forcefully. I responded to his intensity, and then suddenly we were falling.

"Oops," I said, and he laughed underneath me. "I didn't mean to tackle you like that. Are you okay?"

He stroked my face. "Slightly better than okay" And then a perplexed expression crossed his face.
"Renesmee?" he asked uncertainly, trying to ascertain what I wanted most in this moment. A very difficult
question to answer, because I wanted so many things at the same time.

I could tell that he wasn't exactly averse to procrastinating our return trip, and it was hard to think about
much besides his skin on mine—there really wasn't that much left of the dress. But my memory of
Renesmee, before and after her birth, was becoming more and more dreamlike to me. More unlikely. All
my memories of her were human memories; an aura of artificiality clung to them. Nothing seemed real
that I hadn't seen with these eyes, touched with these hands.

Every minute, the reality of that little stranger slipped further away.

"Renesmee," I agreed, rueful, and I whipped back up onto my feet, pulling him with me.

22. PROMISED

Thinking of Renesmee brought her to that center-stage place in my strange, new, and roomy but
distractible mind. So many questions.

"Tell me about her," i insisted as he took my hand. Being linked barely slowed us.

"She's like nothing else in the world," he told me, and the sound of an almost religious devotion was there
again in his voice.

I felt a sharp pang of jealousy over this stranger. He knew her and I did not. It wasn't fair.

"How much is she like you? How much like me? Or like I was, anyway."