Once I was done shopping ('Alice would be proud' kind of shopping) in Port Angeles, we sat down at a restuarant, La Bella Italia, a name that seemed vaguely familiar. I shook my head; I definetly had lost it.
* * *
Once we were done, we paid and left. I liked driving fast, something I had NOT inherited from my mom.
The سیکنڈ we got home, Alice was there. She whisked me and my purchases out of the car, and before I knew it, she had everything laid out on the bed, and was looking at everything critically.
"Renesmee, آپ make me so proud," she said, looking ready to hug me until I died.
"You did everything you're mom never would have!" Alice squealed.
We were اگلے faced with the daunting challenge of fitting it all in my closet, which Alice had "remodelled to look like a boutique".
Never fear, Aunt Alice is here, I thought dryly as I watched her fit everything in neatly. She paused with a pair of black strappy heels, and said, "I love آپ for this, Renesmee."
Alice was easy to make happy.