Prologue: The Very Bad day

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight

A/N: This story is dedicated to my loyal, online buddy, April Klein, who 'picked up' on the FB banner immediately. This one's for you, kid.

Six weeks—six lousy weeks, that's all I had to work my magic. I was grasping at straws here. Apparently my charm wasn't enough. Yeah, well, I joked that I was irresistible, when in reality, Bella didn't see me that way … sort of beautiful, sure, but irresistible? Phft ... If I was so irresistible, she'd be in my arms right now, instead of planning her freakin' wedding to her undead groom to be. Correction, saying yes to each little detail the damn pixie placed before her. If she was so hot to marry her pale prince then why was she allowing Alice to plan every stupid step of the way? Cakes, gown, guest list, food, decorations, invitations—you name it.

Now if Bella would marry me, we'd do it up at the beach. She could be barefoot and in a simple white cotton dress or maybe a Quileute traditional wedding garment if she wanted. We'd have a barbeque, and a dance, and run off afterwards to a cabin somewhere. Jeez, all this dreaming was just that … dreaming. I sighed in defeat. My heart hurt just thinking about it.

I was hoping that by some miracle she would change her mind and choose me, but how could that happen, when I barely got to see her anymore? That filthy bloodsucker wouldn't let Bella out of his sight. He was scared, I just knew it. That kiss on the mountain proved to him that the girl felt so much more than friendship toward me, so he was keeping her away from La Push and yours truly, worried that she would change her mind. And it would happen too, if only I could see her and talk some sense into her.

The next two weeks flew by, and I was starting to panic. My father had been talking to Charlie several times a week, and even Bella's dad said it would make him happy if she'd forget about the whole thing. He never did understand the attraction to the freaky pale face, but I did. It was his vampy mojo manipulating her, bending her will to his way of thinking—the jerk. So what if he had perfect manners, spouted Shakespeare, and had all the money in the world; he was still a manipulative jerk in my mind. I tried to point that out to her more times than I can remember, but she wouldn't listen. So much wasted breath ...

I hadn't spoken to her since our last phone conversation a few days ago, and it didn't go well:

I plunked down onto a kitchen chair. "I really miss you, honey. The Taj is empty without you in it.

"Do you. It doesn't seem like it, or you'd be here instead of talking to me on the phone. Why can't you come over and see me?

Letting out an exasperated huff, I told her, "Well, is he gonna run your life like this after you marry him?

"No, I don't wanna argue. Bells … Bells … stop! I just want you to really think about this. It's an important step and you don't sound ready to take that step. Why are you letting him push you into a corner?"

I stood up, knocking the chair so that it hit the wall. Great, Dad was gonna go ballistic over the hole it gouged in the drywall. "Yes, he is. Everyone around here can see that. Even Charlie says …

"I am not making that up. Well then, why don't you go ask him, or are you afraid of what he might say?"

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I said, "You don't havta shout. Wolf hearing, remember?

"I may be rude, crude and to the point, but I'd never lie to you. Now … Bells?" Crap, she hung up on me. I hated to end the conversation on that sour note, but it seemed like that's all we ever did anymore. And the point of contention was always the lousy bloodsucker.

I tried to call back, but just got the answering machine. The stubborn girl wouldn't pick up, so I offered my apologies to the stupid machine. It was ridiculous. Jeez, I was apologizing for telling her the truth, but apparently she couldn't handle it.

The following week, I patrolled around her house every night just to hear her voice or catch a glimpse of her. I was becoming as obsessed as the freakin' parasite. I wasn't sleeping well, or eating either. No joke, I was practically a leech myself except that I didn't drink any of those thick, nasty, red cocktails.

I lived in fear of the day Bella and her vampire lover would walk down the aisle, and then one day the dreaded invitation arrived in the mail. I went bat-sh** crazy and phased, running off to nowhere to ease the pain of losing her forever. My conscience got the better of me though, and I returned to Forks just to see her as my Bella, maybe for the very last time. We even shared a dance, and that's when everything went to hell.