This is the final chapter. You guys are awesome.

I don't own Twilight.

Carlisle and Esme Cullen are nice. I keep repeating everything I know about them in my head to remind myself that they're not that nice, but it's not working. They're really very nice. They love their son a lot. You can just tell. Every time he scowls or snaps at them, his mother's eyes get big and sad. Her heart breaks. I know that look. I see it in my mother's eyes all the time.

Dinner is uncomfortable because Edward clearly does not see what I see. He thinks that they're judging him, telling him what to do, saying 'I told you so' with every word that comes from their mouths. I just see two people who want their kid to be happy. And tonight is all about celebrations, but Edward looks like he's going to be sick.

"Mr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen—" I start.

"Carlisle and Esme, dear," she corrects me with a hopeful smile. I smile back, because it's the polite thing to do, and because she has Edward's eyes.

"Carlisle and Esme... would you excuse me for a second?"

"Yeah, me too, I need a cigarette."

I turn to Edward and frown, but he ignores me. He leaves the table and walks out. I follow him.

"What the fuck? Why are we here if you're going to be a dick? They're being very nice."

"Bella, don't..."

"They're so excited. They're paying for your tuition, all your expenses. You're so—"

"Because I'm doing exactly what they wanted me to do, that's why."

"It's what you want to do," I remind him. "These past two months all I've heard is how you wanted to be a doctor, but your dad made you hate the profession. How you're interested in studying... I don't even know, these gross diseases, or going around the world and making sure people have the shit they need. You want to be a doctor. You just told them you're going to be a doctor. They're super excited. Let them be excited." I realize I'm shouting, so I lower my voice and make it soft. "And you know I love steak. Don't ruin that for me."

"I just... I hate that smug look he gave me when I said I was starting in the fall," he replies, lighting a cigarette. I snatch it from his hand and throw it to the ground. Oh boy, his nostrils do that scary thing. He's pissed. Good.

"There was no smug look!"

"You just don't see it." He's about to light another one, but looks at me and stops with a sigh. We're trying to smoke less. He has reached his limit for the day. "Go eat your steak, Bella."

"No." I shake my head. "Steak is meh if you're not happy."

"I'm happy."

"You keep scowling."

"I'll be happy back at the apartment. Let's go home."

"We have to finish dinner first. Listen, I don't want to be here either, but I want my steak, even if it's cold and gross now. And you. I want you. Please smile twice for me tonight? Just twice. Or maybe three times? Twice at your mom, once at your dad. For me?" I ask.

I rub my nose against his shoulder. He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer. I'm on the tips of my toes, my arms around his neck. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he lets it out it's warm against my cheek. Cigarettes and lots and lots of wine. "Yeah."

Dinner is still awkward, but Edward is nicer when we go back inside. I have a hard time finishing my steak because he won't let go of my hand under the table. I just eat the three small pieces I had cut before excusing myself, and pick at the potatoes until they take away our plates. I'm not annoyed. I could have let go at any time, but our hands together is my favorite thing. When we're outside waiting for cabs, I catch his mom staring at us. She smiles and I blush. Then I go back to watching our fingers. I don't care if she sees, or if she thinks I'm a stupid kid obsessed with her son and his fingers. I'm so in love. I repeat this in bed a thousand times and he's not sick of hearing it. In fact, there's nothing like the smile on his face when I tell him I'm in love with him, I love him, he's everything, love me, love, love, love. It's big and bright and innocent and I kiss it, and kiss it, and listen to his words back. I want to cry. It's that great.


Edward's new laptop is also my new laptop. When he's screaming at pundits, taking a nap on the couch, his head resting on my thighs, or when he's out, I take over and pretend it's mine. I love being a snoop. He watches porn on it when I'm at work, and it's fun to peek and see what he's into. He's so bored all the time, but apart from the three days a week he spends at the lab, he refuses to work. He wants to take advantage of his freedom before he starts medical school in, like, six months. But instead he sits here, and reads and watches porn. I call him out on it and he laughs. "It's just so boring without you," he whines. I suggest taking trips, visiting his family, friends, but he knows that I'm only lying when I say I think he should go. I don't want him to go anywhere that's not here. I will fake enthusiasm for any trips he decides to take because I know he's not actually going to take them. He likes this small apartment. He likes the tiny kitchen. He likes the bathroom we don't clean as often as we should. He loves our bed, even though he'd rather have sex everywhere else. He's lazy. The bedroom is always too far from the kitchen, or living room, or bathroom, or hallway. But then he's not lazy anymore, and he does everything right, and he does an excellent job.

So when Edward is out, I sit on his laptop and apply to things and check to see if anyone has gotten back to me about jobs. Usually, I stare at a lot of rejections and try to fight off the urge to feel sorry for myself and cry, cry, cry. I guess tonight is going to be one of those nights. I've been rejected from the one job I thought I had a chance of getting. It's not a huge deal. Despite Edward constantly nagging me about quitting my job at Royce's uncle's firm, I decided that quitting would be a bad idea. I'm done with school now, and they were able to increase my hours. I can live on what I make at the firm and the store, but I really want a real job. I'm going to hate my life once Edward is in school. He'll have friends and he will be busy all the time. This reminds me to reply to Jane's most recent email about her show. I'm staring at the screen, staring at my words, when I hear keys and noise and Edward taking off his shoes. He's talking on the phone. "Okay" "Fine" "Whatever" "Dad". Ugh.


"I'm in the kitchen!"

I'll tell him about the job later. He's always in a bad mood after speaking with his parents. He's so stubborn. When his mom called asking me to convince him to fly to New York for their anniversary, I told her straight out, I'm never getting involved in any of this. She said I would have to, eventually, as a part of the family. She's wrong. No one is as important to me as Edward is, and while I want him to have a good relationship with his parents, I'm not going to start fights with him to make that happen. I told Edward about the party they wanted us to attend, and he shrugged. I mentioned it one more time the next day, and he gave me the look. No. Fine. His choice. His parents. I know that Chelsea would talk to his mom all the time and organize family brunches, which he hated. That's so not me. I'd never force him to do anything. And I don't think he wants to go back to New York. I know he had a miserable time when he was back home for Christmas. Chelsea tried to see him and his parents had invited her parents to something. Ugh. Idiots.

"My dad really wants us to go to their anniversary party," he announces, walking into the kitchen and throwing his keys onto the table. It's loud. I jump.

"Are you working on something?" he asks. "Sorry."

"No, just an email. What's up?"

He sits across the table from me and pouts. "Maybe we should just go. Get them off our backs."

"If that's what you want."

"Yeah... no."

I don't say it out loud, but I wonder if this is about Chelsea. It bothers me that he's still not ready to go back to New York and have a good time. Or maybe he just doesn't want to go with me.

"I don't have to go..."

"What? Why would I go without you?"

I shrug.

"I'm not going without you," he says.

"Fine. Let's just go. New York is fun..."

"Yeah, yeah it is."

I look at him and he half-smiles at me. I half-swoon and he sees, and he's a cocky asshole with a big grin and bad, bad eyes.

"Fine," he says.

"Awesome! Lemme look up flights."

"You wanted to go this entire time, huh?"

"I don't care about the party. I just want to go back to New York."

"We can go anytime you want."

"I bet you miss Demetri and your boys."

He nods. "Yeah."

"I love Demetri."

"He loves you, too."

"LA was fun with him and Maggie."

"Yeah," he agrees. "We should do that again."

He gets up and walks to the fridge, opens it, and I know he's going to complain about something in three... two...

"Did you eat all the cheese?"

"Yes?" I whisper.

"There's a small piece of brie... and I fucking hate brie."

"Fine. Let's go buy some cheese."

"I'm gonna have to eat the brie," he tells me.

"It's okay, I left that piece for you."

He rolls his eyes at me as he walks back to the table. Something about his face, the smile, his eyes. I know this moment. I've lived it. My heart is about to explode. I've seen this before. It's nothing, and it's stupid, and it's just a moment from a dream, but it's everything, and I'm excited and worried and anxious.



"Another uh... déjà vu moment?" he asks with a grin. I hate these conversations. I hate how he teases me. I hate how I never have the courage to explain it to him.

"That's not what they are."

"I know..."

"You lie. You just pretend to believe me because you like me."

"That's mostly true," he admits. "Otherwise, I'd be very freaked out."


"If my girlfriend's psychic, how will I get to flirt with cute nurses when I'm an intern or resident, without getting caught?"

"Well, you're going to have to watch yourself, buddy. I know everything," I tease.

He laughs and I want to sit on him, and smell him, and move my lips against his neck, and throat, and shoulder.

"Tell me everything."

"Well," I start, getting up to walk over to him, "we're going to go to New York, and you're going to behave yourself, and be nice, and friendly, and kiss your mom on the cheek, and give her a huge hug. You're going to take me out for some delicious pizza, and I'm going to thank you by doing bad things in our hotel room after we both brush our teeth and wash our hands."

"Do we really have to brush our teeth?"

"Yes." I nod. I love playing this game. He loves listening to me as I tell stories about us that I completely make up on the spot. "That's what happens. I'm not saying I want to brush my teeth, but I will. I've seen it all."

"You lie."

"Don't you want to do bad things?"

He bites down on my shoulder, and his fingers are so tight on my waist that I cry out and tell him to stop.

"I always get to do bad things," he tells me.

"This will be so, so bad," I whisper into his ear. He laughs, and I give him a little slap on the cheek. "I want a cigarette." He hands me one.

"In all seriousness, Bella, what have you seen?"

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow and challenge him to repeat his question. Usually, he'll just tell me to forget about it. Maybe I don't want him to forget about it. I want him to know, but I don't want him to think I'm crazy. And I don't like being teased or made fun of.

"Uh, yeah."

"Do I have to?" I whine.

"Come on."

"Fine. Um... it's weird. It's like, I've seen a few minutes here, a few minutes there," I explain. "Just us. In an apartment. It's weird, because what I've seen is never exactly the same as what happens. Like, when I moved into this apartment, I didn't actually recognize it. But then the other night, when I told you about my lunch with Jane, and we were sitting on the couch... I knew... like that one moment, sitting on the couch with you, I'd seen it maybe hundreds of times. I always thought we looked so sad and just... bad. I think it's just that we're older. We wear our glasses around the apartment. We never get enough sleep, so sometimes our eyes are tired. And the other night, it all came together. You kissed forehead. You told me you'd actually go to her show with me and I felt better, right? I smiled and I was lying on top of you..."

I give up on lighting the cigarette I'm holding in my hand, and place it on the table along with Edward's lighter. I move my face closer to his and kiss him once, and bite his upper lip, then kiss it in case it hurt. He rocks me back and forth and I sit, my cheek against his, my hands in his hair, and on his face, and then in his hair again.

"That's so... yeah."

"It's okay," I tell him. "It sounds crazy."

He laughs. "It does, but I believe you."

"No, you don't."

"Believe me, I don't want to believe you, but I see the way you react to certain things... I think I can tell when you've 'seen' something before."

"Am I that transparent?" I ask, making my eyes very big and looking into his.

"Yeah." His mouth is hot against my cheek.

"Okay. Well, let me tell you about tomorrow."

"Oh, please do."

"Tomorrow, we drive up to Forks, and you're the perfect boyfriend. You smile a lot, you open doors for me and my mom, you go fishing with my dad if he asks you to—but he probably won't because he knows you suck and he has more interesting people to go with. You sleep on the couch like a good boy, and when I come downstairs to fuck you, you stay super quiet, and you put your hand over my this... and—you can let go now—and you make sure I don't scream, but you have to do everything that normally makes me scream, and it's gonna be really awesome, and you will remember how we had sex on the couch in high school, and how we fell while you were coming. Oh my God, I actually remember that. Do you?"

"Shit. Yeah. I do remember that."

I kiss his chest a lot when he laughs. I love the vibrations and how it sounds, and I love putting my cheek against him, and listening, and feeling, and just being with him.

"I just made that up, by the way."

"No, I like that too much," he tells me. "You totally saw that in a dream, and we're going to make it happen."

"Oh yeah?"


"I love you."

"You're my favorite psychic."

"I'm not... ugh, stop making fun of me."

"I'd never do that," he says, chuckling against my shoulder.

"Lies, you're just here to mock me and tease me all day."

"No, I'm just here to make all your dreams come true."

God, he's beautiful. And sweet, and warm, and under me, and touching me, and his words are perfect, and his skin against my skin makes me burn and burn and fly and want more and more of him, just him.

"As long as they involve having sex on your parents' couch," he continues.

"You're gross. Pervert."

"You," kiss, "love," bite, "it."

So much. So I take my gross pervert and spend the night telling him stories, and he listens to every single one, and he loves me and loves me until he falls asleep. He snores and moves around too much, and keeps me up until I glance at the clock and see how late it is, and will myself to fall asleep.

He wakes me up with tickles, and bad breath, and scruffy cheeks against my chest. He asks me if he was in my dreams. I say 'always' and 'of course' and giggle and gasp because the scruff and fingers and teeth are too much. I don't tell him what I saw, what I've been seeing a lot lately. I don't tell him about older me, older him, and bright, colorful things scattered all over the floor of a bigger apartment or home we don't yet live in. Things he trips over and kicks away, but things that make him smile big, because they belong to his favorite people in the world.

He looks at me when my face gets hotter, and my smile gets stupider, and my heart beats faster. "Tell me" and "come on" and "don't be a tease". I'm lucky I can distract him with touches and a kiss, or two, or three, and then I drag him out of bed, and into the shower, then into the car, and we're off to visit my parents in Forks.


"He's so handsome! How can you stand it?"

"Mom, gross."

"He was a good-looking boy, but now... I'd never leave that apartment of yours either if—"


"Is he being nice to you? Does he treat you well? Are you being safe?"

"You asked me those same questions two weeks ago in Seattle," I remind her.

"Well, are you?"

"Of course!"

"I'm going to have the most beautiful grandbabies! Look at that face."

"I'm going to throw up."

"Aw, Bella, babies are the best! You're—"

"No, babies are awesome. You perving on my boyfriend, not so awesome."

"Sweetie, allow your mother to live vicariously through you. I'm an old woman now, and—"

"Mom, you're forty-four. You're like, insanely young. Go find a young guy who's into older ladies. In fact, I'm pretty sure Edward has friends who'd be way into that."

"Friends who aren't Edward..." She sighs.


"Bella! You know I'm only kidding. I love your father. He's my Edward."

"Yeah, remember that," I tell her. "The minute you're running off with a twenty-three-year-old, we're done."

We're having steak tonight, because apparently both Edward and I look unhealthy and too skinny. I'm helping make the salad, staring out the window. I continue watching Edward and my dad inspect the car. Edward looks annoyed, frustrated. My dad has a smug grin on his face as he tells Edward "I told you so", because something is wrong with something, and it made driving here a pain in the ass.

"He's got a temper," my mother observes.


"Is it bad?"

"Yeah. I mean, no worse than mine."

"That's pretty bad."

I shrug.

"Sometimes I try to make your father angry. I try to provoke him, but... you know your father. Always calm, always cool."

"Yeah. That's dad."

"Edward will calm down a bit. He's young."

"It's just who he is," I tell her. "I don't want him to change who he is."

"Oh, you will."


"Leave that poor cucumber alone, you've slaughtered it. Go make sure there's enough cold beer in the refrigerator."

"I just checked, we're good."

My dad says something to Edward, who is laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. Eyes closed, chin high, little boy face.

"So, have you been talking to Janey?" my mom asks.

"I had lunch with her last week."

"How did that go?"

"It was fine."

"I'm glad you two are finally speaking," she says.


"I hear she has a show coming up."

I nod. "Yeah, in, like, two weeks."



"Are you going to the opening?"

"I think so."

"What about him?" she asks, looking out the window with me.

"He said he'd go."


I don't see what the big deal is anymore. Jane and I are talking, so why ask about her all the time? I know my parents want us to be super close again, but this is as good as it's going to get. We have lunch sometimes, send some emails back and forth, she calls me once in a while. The two times she came over to hang out with Edward and me were uncomfortable and awkward. They just don't like each other. She thinks Edward is the male version of me. Which should mean he's awesome, because I'm awesome and Jane loves me, but I'm pretty sure Jane is talking about all of my negative qualities. It's fine. They don't have to love each other. As long as Edward is polite when she's around, and Jane doesn't talk shit about my boyfriend, we're cool. I miss her sometimes, but it's not like she's completely gone. And there's less pressure now. She doesn't constantly ask questions, judge all of my decisions, or try to make decisions for me. We're just friends. We laugh, we roll our eyes at each other, we see movies together that Edward refuses to see with me. It's comfortable and nice. I hope she feels the same way I do.

"I'll be right back."

I grab my jacket from where it's been hanging off the back of a chair and head outside, making sure I have a lighter in my pocket.

"Bella, not on my property."

"Really, dad?"

"I just told Edward the same thing."

"He did," Edward confirms.

"Fine, Edward, let's go far away and smoke a lot. While we're at it, where's all the cocaine we procured on our way over here? Oh, and the weed. The ecstasy. The hooker we picked up on the side of the road..."


"Dad, chill. It's just a cigarette."

"I recall warning Edward here about the day my little girl comes home smelling like cigarettes."

"Your little girl picked up this habit in college," I remind him. "Leave Edward alone."

"It's okay, Bella," Edward says.

"See? It's all good. I just enjoy giving him a hard time." My dad smiles at Edward, who is going to be whining and moaning about my parents from the minute we get into the car to drive back to Seattle, until I have him back at the apartment, sitting on the couch, or lying on the bed.

"Daddy, we want to head back early tomorrow. We want to head over to the beach for a little bit after breakfast, so pancakes at eight?"

"Sounds good."

"Edward likes eggs. Scrambled."

"Bella, it's okay. Chief Swan, I—"

"Scrambled eggs it is."

"Anyway, dinner's almost ready." I turn to Edward, "Your hands are gross, dude, wash them."

He can't flip me off or say anything rude in front of my dad, so I wave him away with a sweet, evil smile.

"Be nice to the kid," my dad says after Edward has gone inside.

"I'm nice to him."

"He's a good man. You know, first time you two came to visit last month, he came to me and started talking nonsense, explaining why he's staying with you in Seattle. He apologized and…" my dad starts chuckling softly. "He said he only had the best intentions. Couldn't stop laughing after he left."

"Nice, dad."

"This is everything you've wanted."


"Remember, there's more to life."

"Dad, I know."

"As long as you keep that in mind, and you're happy, that's all that matters," he tells me.

I nod.

"And you're happy?" he asks.

"The happiest."

"Alright, then. Let's go back inside, I'm hungry."

I love my dad. Sometimes, I want to be a kid again, because my best memories are of us, hanging out, playing, reading, having the most ridiculous conversations before bedtime. He taught me everything worth knowing. He held me when I cried and cried, and he never once made me feel bad when I ignored him, ignored my mom, didn't call or come home for months. And he's the one who told me to always have hope, as awful as hope can be sometimes, he told me to wait, be patient, be positive. He always told me my dreams would come true. And I want to thank him right now, I want to tell him they're all coming true, and there are more dreams, and I know those will come true too, but I don't know... I can't tell him that. He gets all weird when I get all weird. So I just smile and lightly punch him in the arm.

Dinner is nice. We meet up with Emmett and have a few drinks afterwards, and then quietly sneak into the house because my parents are already asleep. I go up the stairs and get ready for bed. I try to sleep, but I can't, so I get up and try not to run downstairs, because that would wake everyone up. I move quietly, and there's Edward, on the couch, eyes closed, always the first to fall asleep. Who cares? He can sleep later. I climb on top of him and lie down, waking him up in the process.

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Uh huh. Sure."

"Take off your t-shirt."

"That's probably a bad idea," I whisper. "It's all I'm wearing."


I move and move and touch and kiss. My hand goes under the blanket, and under his shorts, and I touch him and make him make sounds that I have to stop with my other hand over his mouth. Then I'm under the blanket, I kiss it once, he pulls me up and I know he wants it now.

"Don't let me scream," I tell him.

He laughs and his fingers do things that make my eyes open big, and then close, and now who's the one making those stupid noises? I want it, too. His hands are on my hips, and this is my favorite part of everything—until I'm coming and then that's my favorite—and shit, he feels so good against me, almost in me, almost...


"I swear to God, he's the devil."

"We can be really quiet," Edward says.

"He's up and walking around. No."


"Relax, he'll go back to sleep soon."

"He won't come downstairs, come on."

"Fine, whatever."

No one comes downstairs; Edward's so smart. We have sex and fall asleep, and when the sun comes out I bury my face in his shirt and refuse to wake up. This works until someone is in the kitchen, making way too much noise, and I want to be like, "dad, don't worry, we know you're down here, no one's going to do anything gross while you're a few feet away, just give us some peace and quiet." I get up and draw the blinds because it's too bright in here, and Edward can sleep for a few more minutes while I shower and pack our things, as well as some of my things that I'd left behind when I left Forks. When I'm back downstairs, I find Edward on the couch, half-awake and thirsty.

"Why didn't you go grab something to drink from the kitchen?"

"Your dad's in there."


"So... I don't know."

"Are you feeling guilty about defiling his couch last night?"

"And his kid."

"Yeah, well."

"Come with me," he says.


We eat breakfast, and hug, and kiss, and Edward wants to drive, so I let him. He doesn't know what he's doing as he's pulling out of the driveway, so he drives over some of my mom's flowers. My dad is shaking his head and I wave goodbye, blushing and shaking my head too, just a little embarrassed for Edward.

"You killed the flowers."

"Whatever. You drive next time."

"Dude!" I exclaim. "You totally said that to me once and I knew I'd seen it before, and I guess this is what I'd seen."

"Not now, Bella."

So grouchy.

"You look so hot when you're driving," I tell him.


"No, really. Like, your fingers on the wheel, and your face is like super serious and really, really hot."

I know he likes hearing it, but he's still annoyed, and I bet he saw me looking embarrassed as we drove off. So I take his hand and hold it, and kiss it, until he looks more relaxed, and I whisper the directions to the beach, and I'm soft and sweet to him, and he's smiling and talking by the time we're walking around, looking for something to sit on, the wind strong, and loud, and wet.

"So, your dad was asking me about your job search."

"He's too scared to ask me."

"Yeah, you're really scary."

"I know." I laugh. "So, what was he asking?"

"What you're looking for, if you've got any leads."

"Tell him I want to be a stripper, and that you think I've got what it takes."

"Be serious for a sec," Edward says.


"Rose told me you wanted to apply to her old program and volunteer this summer."

"Yeah... that was before you moved here."

"You should still apply," he tells me.

I shrug, and don't say anything.

"Is that something you're really interested in? You know my uncle can help out. He's been working for various NGOs for years—he can find something for you. I'll ask my dad, or you can ask Rose. He's a great guy."

"So why didn't Rose stay with him?" I ask.

"She didn't want to leave the country. She wanted to graduate high school here."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Yeah, anyway, you should apply, and when you're back, we'll figure—"

"I don't..."

"But Jane said—" I stop him.

"Jane loves making fun of me for wanting to help people. I know that's not a career, but I think it would be fun to do what Rose did and volunteer somewhere, maybe teach English, or something."

"Yeah. Yeah..."

It's cold. He warms me up by moving closer to me, and holding me, and rubbing my hands between his.

"I'll apply, too."


"We'll go together," he explains.

"Yeah, okay."

"We'll find a way to go together. People do it all the time. Three months, right? Then we'll come back and I'll start school, and—"

"And I'll have no job to come back to."

"We'll figure it out. Come on."

"You don't have to do this," I tell him. "You don't have to do something you don't want to do. Like, I know you'd prefer to hang out and have fun before you go back to school."

"I don't want to go on an adventure with you? You're kidding, right?"

I look down and stare at our feet next to each other. Huge and small (but big for a girl). I kick the side of his sneaker and he kicks back. He nudges my leg with his and I nudge back.

"Let's go home and do this," he says.

"Okay. Yeah."

I've never had any dreams of us together in foreign countries, teaching or helping build things, or getting really dark because the sun is so bright. Maybe we'll get to go, maybe we won't, but I have a feeling about this, and it's going to be good. I'm excited about something that's not completely Edward-related for the first time in a long, long time. It feels good. I skip around a lot on our way to the car, he takes stupid pictures, I make sure I'm cute in them. We stop in front of the car and he doesn't let me go in. I'm in his arms, standing as close as you can stand to someone, looking up at his face, and there's a little bit of sun out, and he's handsome and happy, but I swear, I'm even happier.

"This," he says, "this, is perfect."

"Yeah, one sec."

I push him away and grab my bag from the back seat. I fumble through it until I find something Edward gave me years ago. He catches me when I almost trip over his feet as I'm getting out of the car. Standing in front of him, I pull him down towards me and place what I had found earlier in my room and decided to pack and bring back to Seattle with us on his head.

"What? You kept this?" he asks.

I nod and kiss him, and my calves hurt because he's tall, and I'm not, and I'm always standing on my toes to reach his mouth.

"Now, it's perfect."

Ciaobella27, Lillybellis, and Spargelkun read this for me and gave some great feedback. Writeontime is my awesome beta. I'd like to thank all of them for putting up with me since I started this story. Also, Niki, Belle, the lovely ladies over at the gazebo, everyone who recc'd, pimped, made banners, tweeted updates, reviewed. All of you. Thanks so much.

I will be posting a bunch of EPOVs soon, so put me on alert if you are interested.

I had a great time writing this, and I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to hear your final thoughts.

You guys are the very best.