You guys blew me away with the love last chapter, so thank you! :') This little story was a special place for me during December.

I know some of you are waiting for TWIW to update, so I appreciate your patience! Thanks so much for reading :3

12 Years Later

I wake up to my husband kissing his way down my body.

"Merry Christmas," Edward murmurs.

I smile. "That's not for another three days."

"Okay, well… happy Saturday?" he asks, eyes bright and smile devilish.

He disappears under the blanket and pulls my underwear down. My legs fall open to give him easy access like the ho I still am for him.

It's been weeks, maybe even a month, since we've had the energy or time to do this. The second I feel his wet tongue and hot mouth on me, I cry out.

"Fuck," I moan. "Happy Saturday, indeed."

He does the thing he does so well, working me up into a frenzy, my body desperate for more.

Sliding two fingers inside of me, he murmurs against me with his dirty mouth, "Fuck, baby, you taste so good. You've been dying for this, huh?"

"I have," I gasp. "I need it."

I pull the blanket back to watch his head between my legs, and the sight alone makes me come undone. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I buck against his face.

"Fuck, so close," I breathe. "Right there, just like that."

"Momma!" we hear our youngest son wail from his room. "Daddy!"

My body tenses, but not in arousal.

Now I want to cry, too.

Edward doesn't stop, knowing our time is almost up. He licks faster, sucks harder. He curls his fingers to hit that spot inside of me.

"Ohhhhh," I cry out, then cover my mouth with my hand, so close. "Oh, God. Ohhhh."

"Mommy, are you okay?" The small voice is just outside the locked door, the knob jiggling. It's our four-year-old this time. "Did you hurted yourself?"

"Shit," Edward speaks against me. I'm desperate and aching for him to finish what he started, but the moment is now lost. "Mommy's okay. One second, buddy," he calls out, sitting up.

More knob jiggling.

"Why is the door locked?" our oldest son asks, and he must have helped our youngest escape from his crib because we hear all three kiddos at the door now.

I'd cry if I wasn't laughing… and used to these interruptions all the damn time.

Edward tosses me my underwear and I quickly pull them on while he adjusts himself in his sweatpants, his perfectly hard cock softening.

"Goodbye, old friend. I lost you before I even had you," I say sadly as I stare at his crotch.

He grins and slides a hoodie over his head, then grabs my face and kisses me long and hard on the mouth. His gaze is still dark and I can taste myself on him. It would be so erotically hot… if my kids weren't out there waiting.

"Later," he promises, then presses a quick kiss to my forehead.

Unfortunately, later no longer means the same day for us. Later could mean anywhere from tonight to next month.

I find my leggings on the floor and hurry to pull them on before he opens the door.

Standing in their pajamas are our three sons—Charlie, Liam, and Masen.

Or as Edward and I fondly refer to them sometimes when we're desperate for sexy alone time—cockblockers 1, 2, and 3.

Masen, our youngest, is all Edward with green eyes and thick, copper curls. Our oldest, Charlie, is all me with matching dark chestnut eyes and hair. And our middle baby, Liam, is the best of both of us with hazel eyes and a mop of cinnamon on his head.

All three of them were the best, unplanned surprises. They're seven, four, and two, and sometimes I think they were put on this earth strictly to annoy their three older nieces. But we honestly can't imagine our lives without them.

"Gang's all here, huh?" I say with a gentle smile, picking up Masen before he asks me to. "Y'all sleep okay?" I ask the boys, who chirp their agreement as the five of us head downstairs into the kitchen.

Kissing Masen's chubby cheek, I set him down and he immediately starts on a rampage pulling off all of the alphabet magnets on the fridge. Which is great because I was hoping to have a mess to clean up at seven in the morning.

While Edward tricks him into racing to see who can put them back on the fridge the fastest, I see what we have to eat.

"What should we make for breakfast?" I ask the crew.

"I already ate. I made cereal," Charlie says, like the independent kiddo he is.

Early on I knew I wanted to honor my dad by naming our first son after him, but what sealed the decision was that they share the same birthday.

It feels like my dad continues to do things to keep his memory alive and to let us know he's with us always. One of those examples is when my due date was delayed and my son arrived two weeks late, on my dad's birthday.

While Liam and Masen watch cartoons and Charlie plays on his tablet, Edward and I move around the kitchen to make breakfast.

"Are you going to work today?" I ask him. I know we talked about it briefly, but my brain is a mess with everything happening right now.

"Nope. Off till the 27th," he says, pouring juice into a sippy cup for Mase.

Unbeknownst to me, Edward was already looking for another job after I got fired from Swoosh. He had feelers out because he was so certain once I had my exit interview and the other employees came forward to out Jane, that they'd offer me a job.

And he was right.

They did.

I didn't even have to present all of my evidence in the interview because everyone else had kept their drunken word and already come forward to make complaints.

Jane was gone.

And I was verklempt.

Sue apologized and told me to take a few days and decide if I wanted to come back and write for Glow. It was the least they could do after such a wrongful termination.

Of course, it was all I wanted. But Edward was more important to me and I didn't want anything to jeopardize our new relationship. After being all over each other at the work Christmas party, it was obvious we were together.

I'd texted him to meet me at Starbucks and told him everything that happened in the exit interview… which somehow turned into a job interview. It was strange, being there a week after getting fired, and telling him how I now had an offer for my dream job. Or what I thought was my dream job, anyway.

"What's the hold-up? Why didn't you tell Sue yes?" he asked.

I hesitated. "Because of you. And me?"

"I've got one foot out the door. I have some interviews at other places next week," he said, like duh.

"Edward," I whispered, shaking my head. "The last thing I want for you to do is to leave so I can stay."

"It's my choice, Swan. You'll be great anywhere and you can do anything. But if you need to prove something to yourself or your dad by working at Glow, then who am I to stand in the way?" He reached across the table and took my hand in his. "I can write sports articles anywhere. Fuck, I'll work here if it means you get to do what you want."

I'd laughed breathlessly, loving him even more for how selfless and supportive he was.

"Don't be dramatic. You'd work at Starbucks?"

"I'd be a fucking great barista," he joked, and then he half-stood from his chair and leaned across the table to kiss me.

Later that day, I accepted the position at Glow. Three weeks after that, he was starting his first day with The Seattle Times.

He's still working there, but I left Glow to focus on other things right before Liam was born.

Edward pulls a bottle of champagne out of the fridge now and I hum in excitement.

"Celebrating something?" I ask coyly.

"Yes. You." He pops the cork, grinning. "Bella Cullen—New York Times Best-Selling author, podcaster, and recent screenwriter."

After a lot of back and forth and multiple people pushing me to do it, I decided to write a screenplay. It's autobiographical, based on the timeframe when Edward and I were first falling in love, and how he made the holidays so special that year. Add in the magic of The Moth and my father's last wish, it just felt like a story that needed to be told. Netflix agreed because I heard from my agent last week that they're going to turn it into a holiday rom-com.

"Not to mention," Edward adds, "an amazing wife, loving mother, and a really great lay."

I laugh as he fills two flutes. "Wow. Really great? That's all you got, Cullen?" I ask, poking his side.

His grin widens and he hands me a glass. "I didn't want to turn you on too much with my words," he says, voice low. "I know you love my dirty mouth. And the kids are right over there."

"Hmm." I give him a playful glare, then glance over at the boys sitting on the couch. "Fair enough. It's been too long, so I guess I'll just have to remind you later how much more than really great I am in bed."

"See? I knew my teasing would benefit me."

I smile. "Ahh. A man with a sexy, sexy plan."

"All joking aside…" He moves closer to me and dips his head for a sweet kiss. "I love you, Bell. And I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "I know you're gonna kill it tonight."

"Thank you," I say softly, my heart warming from his sincerity.

Tonight, my podcast is kicking off its first-ever live show at the Paramount Theater. The event is sold-out, and I'm fucking terrified, but I also have the most delicious nerves.

A month after my impromptu monologue at Moth, I started a podcast in my free time called "You're Not Alone." I had no idea what I was doing or what I wanted to achieve, I just knew speaking about grief and how it affected me was helpful that night on stage. Yeah, it was terrifying, but it was also cathartic in many ways.

At first, the podcast began with just me talking about my book, 'The Short Goodbye,' which was in the publishing process, and sharing my experience with grief. Slowly, I started incorporating guests into the mix for them to remember a loved one they'd lost. It turned more into me casually interviewing them, and since everyone experiences grief differently, every guest brought a new perspective.

Edward was my first guest. Then Alice, my mom. Esme even joined me for an episode, and Emmett, too.

The podcast was turning into something special, and I slowly started to find my groove and figure out exactly what I wanted to do with it.

It wasn't all doom and gloom, though. That was the best part—finding humor and light moments to hold onto. I'd never left a podcast episode feeling heavier. If anything, it was uplifting in a way. The reviews said as much—that my super-power ability to talk about the usually oppressive topic with vulnerability and humor helped it feel less heavy.

After three years of being consistent with content on the podcast, iHeartMedia picked me up and I joined their network because they were in the market for adding grief content with a pinch of humor to their platform.

The podcast is no longer a side hustle, but my main source of income. I have a studio in iHeartMedia's downtown Seattle office, a loyal following, and a multitude of guests—celebrities, authors, stand-up comedians, influencers—because grief touches all and doesn't discriminate.

"Cheers to you, baby," Edward says now, clinking my glass with his.

We lock eyes, taking a sip.

"I couldn't do any of this without you," I say honestly. "You've been so fucking supportive. So thank you."

His gaze softens. "I have a surprise for you tonight," he says. "After the show."

I smile. "Is it in your pants?"

He laughs, eyeing me up and down. "I mean… that could be part of it."

"I don't want just part," I scoff. "I want it all. The whole thing. Wait, does this surprise have anything to do with Alice's text last night?"

"What text?" he asks, taking another drink.

"She said, Merry Christmas, you're getting dicked tomorrow night," I say, making sure the boys don't overhear. Edward chokes on his champagne and puts the glass down. "I saw it before I went to bed and didn't have the energy to ask her what she was talking about."

"I told that punk ass not to tell you," Edward mumbles.

"What?" I laugh in confusion. "You coordinated with my sister a… dicking session for us?"

He looks mortified. "No. At least, that wasn't how I presented it to her. After the show tonight, she and Jasper are coming back here to relieve the babysitter, and they're gonna stay the night with the boys. You and I are gonna get a late dinner and stay in a hotel downtown."

"Aww." My chest squeezes with affection for this romantic man. "I love that. And I'll definitely be hungry after the show… for dick," I say, teasing but also not.

"Insatiable," he laughs, eyes crinkling.

"Excuse you, I was never satiated!" I insist. "Not today at least."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure all of your needs are met later," he insists like the selfless lover he is. "I'm kinda pissed at your sister, though. It was supposed to be a surprise."

I set my glass on the counter and move closer to wrap my arms around his torso.

"I'm still surprised. Thank you," I murmur, tipping my chin up to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you," he echoes, hugging me tightly.

With their attention diverted, the boys mosey their way into the kitchen and we break apart.

"Y'all wanna help us make breakfast?" I ask. "French toast or pancakes?"

"Want pantakes," Masen says in his little raspy toddler voice.

"Pancakes it is," Edward says, grabbing the flour out of the cabinet.

Liam carries his stool over to the counter and says, "We can have pancakes, but Mommy said she's hungry for dick."

I want to die.

"Momma want dick," Masen repeats because, of course, he does.

Edward starts to laugh, but stifles it with a cough, catching himself.

Masen giggles when he sees that Edward thinks it's funny, so he repeats it. Nearly chanting it. Loudly.

"What's dick?" Charlie asks, confused.

I fight a smile, my cheeks burning, trying not to bring too much attention to this.

"It's… nothing. I actually said I was hungry but felt sick," I say, trying to stay serious and hoping like hell this blows over. "But I feel better now so I'll eat pancakes with you guys."

"Alexa, play Christmas music," Edward says aloud, and "Jingle Bell Rock" fills the space.

"Thank you," I murmur to him, and he pecks my cheek, his gaze delightfully bright conveying that his promise of later will definitely happen tonight.