It was the first real day of Summer. The sun was shining, the temperature had skyrocketed to 80 degrees and Charlie had suggested that I celebrate with a bowl of ice cream. I suspected this was more envy than encouragement, since he would be stuck at the police station until after dark.
Instead of giving into temptation and going to La Push to enjoy the decent weather, I was being a good girlfriend. Edward had enticed me into coming to his house and admittedly, I didn't need much enticing.
We were currently curled up on his couch with our shoes off. I was nestled into the space between Edward's legs, my back against his chest and a photo album open on my lap.
"What on earth is that?"
"A wiglet," he identified the hairpiece. "It was the 60's and Alice got tired of her hair. She wanted a fancy updo for prom and the closest we could manage was one of those things."
"So you got her a toupee for prom," I laughed. "I never thought she was the type."
"Not now," Alice said from the doorway, "but I learned my lesson."
"Yes," Edward recalled. "She and Jasper were walking to the car and that thing got caught on a low-hanging branch. Alice didn't notice until halfway to the school that she had left half of her hairdo in a tree back home."
"I thought this was the summer when we were going to get Bella to like us," Alice protested.
"I like you a lot," I rejoined. "Seeing embarrassing pictures just helps a little."
In fact, I thought it was a brilliant idea. If I could see the Cullens in slightly-less-than-perfect states, it might help me feel more at home.
The next picture in the album didn't help one bit.
"That picture is amazing," I said, running one hand over the glossy print of Alice and Rosalie. "Who took it?"
"Some photographer from Vogue," Alice replied casually.
So much for less-than-perfect. I nearly dropped the album. "You've been in Vogue?!"
Alice grinned broadly. "Not quite," she corrected. "Rose and I were on spring break in Italy and we were talking to two nice Italian men when someone took that picture."
I squinted at the picture, trying to identify what kind of nice Italian man would end up in a fashion magazine. "Who exactly..."
"Armani's the one on my left," she said plainly. "Rosalie's the one talking to his boyfriend."
If I recognized the name, he was important. I was one of those types who couldn't remember how to say Dolce and Gabbana, much less spell it.
"I convinced Rosalie to go to the show in '75," she explained. "He'd started his own line in '74, but he didn't design for women until a year later. Rose didn't want to go in the first place, but she finally saw sense. We just happened to meet Sergio at the party afterwards."
That sounded exactly like something that would happen to them. One had to wonder who else they'd just happened to meet.
"And you just happened to be in Vogue," I reiterated.
Alice grinned. "No, no, no," she corrected. "They ended up using a different picture entirely. Giorgio sent this along with Esme's dress by way of apology."
My first instinct was to say something brilliant along the lines of "I don't believe this," but there was no reason not to.
Edward's arms reached around my waist and closed the album. "Enough for now," he suggested. "After this, there are pictures of me in bell bottoms."
"Hey," Alice objected. "You have to be embarrassed, too."
"My room, my rules," he rejoined.
"Fine," she sniffed. "In that case, I'll tell her why we ended up at an Armani show in the first place."
He laughed quietly as he kissed the spot behind my ear and pulled me closer. "Be my guest," he invited.
"Well," Alice said with a grin, "I Saw into Edward's future and when I saw his wedding, he was wearing an Armani suit. I thought I should take a look at what he was getting himself into."
I didn't think that I could look more shell-shocked, but Alice was apparently trying to see how far she could push me before I snapped.
"And now?" Edward asked.
She grinned and turned to go, calling her answer over her shoulder: "Same suit. Now I just know who's wearing the Vera Wang."