As always, I was electrically aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of my imagination.

My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.

The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think — which was the whole purpose of the exercise.

There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn’t risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings.

He was such a cheater. Now I was even more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica.

What if his family was there? I felt a wave of real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?

Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me — even before I was off the street — as soon as I heard his voice.

I can’t be sure — I don’t know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you’re trying to say goodbye when you’re saying something else.

Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you’ve been interfering with fate?