Here in his arms, it was so easy to fantasize that he wanted me. I didn’t want to think about his motivations now — about whether he acted this way to keep me calm while we were still in danger, or if he just felt guilty for where we were and relieved that he wasn’t responsible for my death. Maybe the time apart had been enough that I didn’t bore him for the moment. But it didn’t matter. I was so much happier pretending.
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 22, p.490