“You sound like my mom,” I laughed, surprised. She laughed, too. “Well, I do think of them as my children in most ways. I never could get over my mothering instincts—did Edward tell you I had lost a child?” “No,” I murmured, stunned, scrambling to understand what lifetime she was remembering. “Yes, my first and only baby. He died just a few days after he was born, the poor tiny thing,” she sighed. “It broke my heart—that’s why I jumped off the cliff, you know,” she added matter-of-factly. “Edward just said you f-fell,” I stammered. “Always the gentleman.” She smiled.
