The thing about that young man, my employee Edward Cullen, sometimes he can look a mess. A real mess with that wild hair. And you think…he's not so much. He's over-rated. Over-blown. And then, in the same sixty minutes that you thought that he turns to say something, makes a joke usually, and he's laughing, and it's all so…so engrossing you end up losing your train of thought and looking like a…dimwit.

I wait for him to fail me. I think if he does, I can get free of this…not obsession really…this interest. This heightened interest that…not chokes really…but strangles me a bit. Broccoli in his teeth or something. Explosive vomiting or…yes I'll say it…diarrhea perhaps. Something to make him human, so human, it will break the spell, but even that would only inspire mercy…and more commitment on my part to…to…like him…very much.

I'm too old for this for one thing. I'm too…sensible and dependable. I'm too, too, too down-to-earth and predictable. And engaged. I am very, very engaged.

Anyway, people want me to be what they think I am. Particularly my fiancé Jacob. And rightfully so.

I should say I own a little men's clothing shop. And we tailor. It's quite a special place, stuffy, as in small. Not…stuffy as in…stiffling.

And it's survived in this city…in spite of all of the competition. Let me tell you what happened with men's suits—imports. Cheap imports. You don't have to worry if you outgrow your jacket or your pants, there's another shiny twofer sale around the corner. Throw out one and buy two!

I can't stand the throw-away aspect of our society. It makes me—well Edward says it's one of my many eccentricities, and I shouldn't apologize for it.

My aunt says to watch him. The charmers are only after one thing. Your money.

It doesn't occur to Aunt Sue that he could be hopeful for more than that. I am, after all, a female…inside. I mean, I wear men's suits…suits I make myself. So it's masculine…perhaps.

I took over Dad's shop straight out of college. Thank goodness for that degree in Social Work.

That was sarcasm. And I'm not sarcastic as a rule. Edward says…oh for Pete's sake, there I go again.

It doesn't matter anyway. He's thinking of moving and well, he's looked into that job…in California. Near his family. Imagine that…he has a family. I suppose they will take up all of his time, probably. One of the things I love most about him is how…available he is for…overtime. Or being the third wheel at anything pretty much. Him and his lovely little bottles of cheap wine. He's so darling to bring them to…everything.

Jacob makes fun of him, but Jacob has that short-sightedness about Edward like he sees through a force-field of jealousy. I never realized such a complication was in Jacob's make-up until Edward entered the picture. For pity sakes, I have professed a different kind of love for Jacob a million times in the last year. I'm on strike now. Jacob can believe I love him…as my fiancé…and him only in that capacity or he can…chew on a shoe. I'm not having that conversation again. I do not laugh more loudly at Edward's jokes or smile like I'm stuck on that button when Edward is around. I am reserved by nature. Everyone says so, but Jacob makes me sound like Corky the Clown when Edward's about.

I know inside I have a little struggle and it's mine to get over and I handle it very…very well.

Honor before indulgence. Duty before…pleasure. I will honor my engagement and always put my duty as a good…almost wife over any silly attraction. I'm engaged, not dead. But I'm living like I'm dead. I mean engaged.

I am so not confused.

I have to go now. Edward is due to arrive for work and I wanted to have a moment to…unpack the Cashmere before…others…come in and steal his…attention. To the work. Don't read a bunch of stuff into this that I am not saying.

PM: Hello Readers! My book, Deep in the Heart of Me is now available on Amazon. Writing as Diane Munier. Thanks.