After a moment, I fiercely told myself that he was playing a cruel prank on me. Though that didn't explain the general oddness of that morning… I snatched the phone up again before I could poke holes in my resolve.

"Bella?" Edward was asking. "What happened?"

"Sorry, I- I dropped the phone," I said.

"Always the klutz," he joked. Again I could hear the hurt in his voice. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm bringing Simon over."

"Simon?" I asked confused.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Your son. I'm bringing him over."

"My son?" I yelped.

"Yeah, Bella," he said, sounding strange. "Have you been drinking?"

"No," I answered quickly. At least, I don't think I have… With a growing sense of fear, I frantically searched the kitchen while gripping the phone between my shoulder and ear. I couldn't find a trace of alcohol in the house, but the dishes seemed different than I remembered. Something very weird was going on, and an elaborate prank involving inventing a son and pretending I was married to Jacob Black did not seem like something Edward would do.

"Edward," I said, interrupting him midway through a speech about how if I was drunk he would take Simon off my hands. "I'm not drunk. It's just… does it sound weird if I say I don't know who Simon is?"

"Bella," he said strongly, sounding hurt and angry, "don't joke. Don't try to escape this. He's been waiting to see you all week."

"Right! Simon!" I replied, sounding strained. "Oh, you know how I can't think straight until I have my coffee. Oh, of course I know who Simon is! I'm so excited to see him!" Whatever was going on, it was probably best to just play along until I had all the details.

"Are you sure?" he said suspiciously.

"Totally!" I false-laughed. "I love my son. Simon, Simon, Simon. I can't wait 'til he gets here."

He still thought I was lying- about not being drunk, too. "Bella, what's Simon's middle name?" Crap, what's his middle name? If I had a son, what would his middle name be?

"It's Gordon," I answered, trying not to make it sound like a question. He was quiet.

"I guess you're finally awake now," he sighed. "Okay, we're almost there." He hung up with a click. I blinked in confusion and surprise, then set the phone back in the cradle.

Why was I so afraid of not knowing Simon's middle name when this was obviously a prank? Or… a dream. "Wake up!" I muttered to myself, swinging my hand towards my face. It stopped a few inches away. I groaned- I couldn't even slap myself. "Sissy." I scrambled through the silverware drawer (that, of all things, had remained the same) and extricated a long-tined fork. I held it firmly above my outstretched forearm before driving it straight into my skin. "HOLY-"

"Bella?" said Edward concernedly. He was standing in the doorway, his hand on the shoulder of what looked like a seven-year-old replica of him.

"-ghost," I improvised, adding to my exclamation and quickly crossing myself.

"You shout when you pray?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"That way God can hear me," I said slowly.

"Why are you bleeding?" I saw him chewing on his lip and wondered how much the blood was bothering him.

"Huge horsefly just bit me… and flew out the window," I lied inventively. I knew I was a terrible liar, but he seemed to be buying it, or at least not pressing for the truth. "That's why I was praying."

"Over a fly?"

"Simon!" I ignored him and crouched down in front of the boy.

"Hi, Mom," he mumbled to the floor.

"Well," said Edward, "Goodbye, Simon. I love you." He smiled warmly and then looked back up at me. His warm look disintegrated. "See you next week, Bella." I grimaced and watched him leave before looking back at Simon. He looked just like Edward, but with my eyes, and he had the cutest gap between his two front teeth.

"Okay, Simon, we're going to play a game," I said, lifting him up and setting him on the counter. "You're going to tell me everything you know about … Mommy, 'kay?" He nodded.

"You have pretty hair," he said.

"Sweetie, I have a mirror. I meant, what do you know about Mommy's life?"

"Um… you don't like Daddy."

"That's not true," I frowned. "I love your father."

"Oh." He looked confused. Suddenly, he hopped off the counter and walked towards the back of the house.

"Simon, where are you going?" I called.

"Bathroom!" he said. I sighed and banged my head against the wall. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't a dream. Some way or another, in one night Edward Cullen had gone from being my husband to being my baby daddy.