Welp. I said it wouldn't be five years, and here we are. Thank you patient readers. Hopefully this leaves you in a much happier place. This is unbetad, btw. All mistakes are mine. -Ginnie

PS: Mature content warning is STILL in effect. Surprise surprise, you shouldn't read this at work. (Sorry.)


Epilogue: Part 3

BPOV—

We step through our front door, onto our covered porch, just as the liftgate of the car in the driveway closes. Alice Brandon reappears on the driver's side a moment later with a wheelchair, and my heart—already racing—gives a strong lurch.

My breathing picks up as I move closer.

"Jasper," I whisper, as my husband's hand slides into mine. I look back over my shoulder at him. He gives me a tight but comforting smile, nodding as if to say he's not going anywhere.

I'm glad. I hadn't dared to imagine this moment. I'd never allowed myself to think about what it would be like to see this man again–a man who had sacrificed so much in the name of duty—who had lost so much because of his duty to me, specifically. It's just too much to process. Relief and joy. Regret and remorse.

When the driver's door opens though, all my emotions shift to confusion. Because the man behind the wheel steps out and stands next to the car. His hair is the right color to be Jasper's, maybe a little lighter than I remember, and he's approximately the right height, too.

It's just that he's standing. At least he is until Alice arrives with the chair.

He quickly swivels and then sits, and even with the door blocking our view, I can see him pick his legs up with his hands and place them on the footrests of the wheelchair. First one, then the other. Then he sits up, looking back and exchanging a word or two with Alice.

I small puff of laughter escapes me and my lips twitch. It is Jasper. And he's clearly more mobile than I'd been imagining all these years, which is amazing. Even if I have no idea how or why he's here, I'm supremely glad to see him.

"Come on," I say when they shut the car door and begin their journey across the gravel drive.

My husband squeezes my hand and follows me when I open the screen door and start down the porch steps.

Jasper pushes himself along the driveway while Alice walks behind him. Her ankle-length dress blows around her legs as a breeze kicks up from the valley behind them. Her dark hair brushes her collar bones, so much longer than I remember it, and purple in places. Jasper's hair is longer too and I see now the lighter hue is due to grey. He's tan though and looks strong. His arms pump hard as he wheels his way across the gravel, Alice only reaching out to assist through one of the thicker patches near the path that opens to our front lawn.

When they spot us coming toward them, they both smile. Alice waves again, face beaming beneath her dark sunglasses.

"They look happy to see us, at least," Masen comments, and I hum an agreement.

"I can't believe they're here," I whisper. "After all this time."

He scoffs. "Me either. Guess we should go see why they're here."

I give his hand a squeeze. "Be nice, okay?"

I can almost feel him roll his eyes as we step onto the sidewalk. The gate is open, but it's against my transplanted-Southern manners to just stand here and wait for them to come to us.

"Deputy Jasper Whitlock," I say, feet away now. Despite how happy I am to see him, nerves make my voice tight. I glance at Alice just as she slides her glasses up her face. "Deputy Brandon."

Her expression shifts from easy elation to worry at my formal tone. "Um, it's not actually 'deputy' anymore," she says offering a smile. "I retired a few years ago."

"Oh, wow," I say, having never imagined that.

"I hope it's not a bad time," she says, glancing from me to my husband and back again.

I shake my head. "No. It's actually one of the better times you could have popped in."

"Oh, that's good."

My eyes go to Jasper. "It's really good to see you." I smile, swallowing a rush of emotions.

"It's good to see you, too, kiddo." His grin widens as Masen releases my hand to slide his arm around my shoulder.

I lean into the embrace as I glance between Jasper to Alice. "So, not to be rude, but . . . we have to ask–"

"What are you two doing here?" Masen finishes for me.

Alice takes a breath as her eyes dart over each of us. "Well, we're on vacation in the area. We. . ." She pauses, looking at Jasper. "Well, he recently learned where you'd been relocated, and the Smoky Mountains are on our bucket list, so, here we are."

Jasper slides his sunglasses off, making eye contact. "It's not an official visit. We just came. I called it in early this morning and told your district it was in the interest of delivering an update on your case personally, but really it was just to make sure we wouldn't give you a heart attack."

"Too late," says Masen.

I squeeze his waist. "Yeah, they kinda didn't get the message passed. We had to call them."

"Well, shit," Jasper replies as Alice says, "Oh no."

"I'm sorry about that." Jasper glances between me and my husband. "Like I said, we're not really here in an official capacity. You don't need to worry."

A breath I didn't know I was holding escapes me. "So. . . you're not here to move us?"

"Nothing's happened? Nothing's changed?" Masen adds.

"Oh, God, no," Jasper replies. "Nothing like that."

Alice's smile warms with understanding. "No. We just didn't know if we would be welcome." Her eyes dart to the house behind us. "The baby?"

It takes me a moment to realize what she's talking about, and then I laugh. "Not a baby anymore. And not home right now either."

"So. . . I can hug you?" she asks, and though I'm surprised by the request, I find can't deny her.

"Sure," I say, a bashful smile taking hold as I step forward.

Her face is jubilant as she moves around Jasper to meet me. She raises her arms and wraps them around my shoulders, hugging me tight as I awkwardly lift my arms in return. As she rocks us back and forth, I'm shocked at the feeling of nostalgia that hits me. Her hug is familiar to me. Her arms are familiar. Her smell is familiar. And it's so odd and rare and precious for me to experience this kind of sensory memory, that I have to lock it down for fear the feeling will tear me apart.

"I missed you," she whispers. "I've thought about you so much."

Tears flood my eyes despite my efforts. "I missed you too."

She rubs my back. "I wish we could have kept in touch."

I find I can't speak. Because I'd wished that too. Many times. The first year without her had been hell.

Alice squeezes me tighter for a moment, and when she releases me, we're both wiping our eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say, smiling and sniffling.

She laughs, the same sweet laugh I remember. "Me too. I didn't mean to start the waterworks."

I step back and Masen places his hands on my shoulders, comforting and strong.

"Hey, you," Alice says to him, looking up.

"Hi, Alice," he says, and it sounds like he's smiling.

"How have you been?" she asks.

"I've been good." He squeezes me gently. "Happy here. You?"

She shrugs. "Can't complain."

Jasper pushes himself forward a little and she moves to make room for him, reaching for his shoulder. He wraps a hand behind her leg as her hand slides to his neck. The sight makes me smile.

"You two are still together," I comment.

They both smile, Alice nods and flashes her other hand at me, wiggling a wedding band back and forth. Simultaneously, Jasper lifts his and I spot his matching ring.

"You guys! Congratulations," I say. "That's amazing."

"To you as well," Jasper says. "Looks like you two are still goin' strong."

I grin and look up at my husband. "Yeah," he says. "We are."

"Almost ten years now," I add.

His lips lift, his eyes softening. "Almost exactly ten years. Our anniversary is in a couple weeks."

"Any big plans?" Alice asks.

Masen chuckles as my eyebrows raise, wanting the answer to that myself. "Yeah, but they're a secret," he says.

"And I hate secrets," I say. Then, looking back to Alice, "I'm planning on torturing him later, so he'll cave and tell me."

"Good plan. I think Jazz has some handcuffs somewhere in the trunk if you need them."

Her joke is perfectly timed and delivered, breaking any of my husband's lingering tension.

"Okay, Alice," he laughs. "You, I think I missed."

"I'm going to try not to be offended by that," Jasper says, quirking an eyebrow.

I catch his eyes as I move aside so Alice can hug my husband and give him a hard time.

"Don't worry, I missed you." My gaze falls to his wheelchair, despite myself. "I'm so sorry that everything happened the way that it did."

He smiles and shakes his head. "No worries, kiddo. No worries at all."

I press my lips together, trying not to get emotional again. "Still, I can't thank you enough for all you did for me."

"Well, in the end, it wasn't me who saved you. You did that yourself, for the both of you." His eyes fall on my husband, who slides seamlessly back to my side.

Jasper offers his hand to him. "I really hope we're not intruding."

Masen eyes him for a second, then politely shakes hands. "No, welcome to our home."

"Thank you," Jasper says as they size each other up. My husband is clearly trying to decide if he can trust the good Deputy, but Jasper doesn't seem phased. "It's beautiful. Quite the view you guys have."

"Yeah," Masen says, relaxing some. "We're fond of it."

I slide my arm from his waist to his back. "Uh, well. Would you guys like to come inside?"

"That'd be lovely," Alice answers, placing her hand on Jasper's shoulder

I take a deep breath and smile as Masen steps back and takes my hand.

"Do you need a hand?" he asks as Alice moves behind Jasper once again. "The path isn't very accessible, I'm afraid."

Jasper shrugs. "We can usually manage, but if you want to spot me on the stairs, that'd be great."

"I'm not sure how accessible the house is either," I confess as I consider it. Not only are there three stairs to get to the porch, but the doorway has a raised frame as well. I've tripped over it a time of two.

"Don't worry about it," Alice says, "Most residences in the country are like this. Ours was the same when we first bought it. Jazz can actually stand and walk short distances, even take a few stairs, but uneven surfaces like the gravel driveway or this path are a bitch."

"I bet," I say, and the words I'm sorry are on the tip of my tongue, wishing I could convey my remorse for the way Jasper's life was changed by the events in Washington.

Instead, I ask, "So how long have you two been married?"

Alice laughs. "Well, that's a long story. One version of which, is that we were married when you met us. But"—she stops to watch Masen help Jasper over a larger gap between the flagstones—"long-story short, we got engaged a few months after the accident. Then we had a big, formal wedding with all our families and friends, what?" She looks down at him. "Three years to the day?"

Jasper glances up and nods, smiling. "Yep. It would have been sooner, too, but. . . it was my goal to be able to stand for the entire ceremony."

He stops when we make it to the bottom of the steps, then glances at Masen. "I'll just turn around, and we'll go up backwards. Cool?"

"Perfect," Masen says.

He then glances up at Alice again. "Grab the stabilizers?"

She nods and leans down to pull two little supports off the bottom of his wheelchair. I climb the porch stairs and pull open the screen door.

"Where should I be?" Masen asks.

"Just step up one step, then turn around and place the foot of one leg on the ground between my wheels once I get situated," Jasper says.

Alice moves out of the way, pulling what I can only assume is her bag off the back of his chair at the same time.

Masen does as he was instructed then says, "Ready whenever you are."

"Can I do anything?" I ask.

"They're good," Alice says looking up at me with an easy smile.

I hold the door wide and watch Jasper coach my husband on exactly what to do. It doesn't seem to phase them at all. Both Alice and Jasper are calm and cool about it.

Jasper was always cool though. Controlled and collected. He's aged since I knew him of course, and his legs are thinner while his arms are more muscular. But he's still patient and knows exactly the right things to say. He's still very much the Jasper Whitlock I remember.

My throat is tight when I move out of the way so they can make the final step. Alice distracts me by complimenting the potted plants we have on stands on either side of the stairs. I thank her and soon she's at my side, looping her arm through mine and complimenting the rest of the porch.

"I love the swinging bench," she says. "The distressed look really works here."

"Thanks," I reply, clearing my throat. "I have my husband to thank for that. I found the plans on Pinterest, but he made it happen. He's really handy."

"Yeah?" she asks and I nod as I show her through the front door, which Masen and Jasper have already managed.

"Yeah. I got lucky."

Her gaze is warm and kind. "I'm glad. You deserved a little luck."

"Thanks."

She nods and squeezes my arm, then moves to join the men.

Once she has Jasper's wheelchair ready to go again, we move into the kitchen. A few minutes later, coffee is brewing and we've popped some cinnamon rolls from the freezer into the oven. Alice and Jasper are seated in the breakfast nook, across the table from me while I cut some oranges into wedges. Masen keeps himself busy, filling mugs with cream and rounding up plates, napkins, and cutlery while he waits for the coffee to finish.

"So, I'm sorry, I believe you were telling us a story," I say to Jasper.

"Oh, right. 'Bout Ali and me." He glances at Alice and starts chuckling before turning back to me. "So. . . I was in rehab, and they were on me about picking a goal. So one day, I was sittin' there kinda pissed off, thinkin' I had no reason to bother, and in walks Alice—this incredible woman who's stood by my side the entire time, through the worst of the worse—and I thought. . . there's something I want. I want to marry this girl for real."

"Which we'll have to explain," Alice interjects.

"So. . . " Jasper says, ignoring her. "I proposed. The next day in the middle of physical therapy, I asked her to be my wife, and I told her, 'I'm going to stand next to you when we take vows, and then'—"

Alice chimes in, saying the words with him. "'We're gonna live happily-the-hell-ever after.' "

I smile wide, laughing. "That's great."

"It was amazing," Alice confesses.

"But you were already married?" Masen prods, filling another mug. I nod along because I'm a little confused too.

"Right. See, we knew each other years before we both ended up in Phoenix," Alice says. "We met at academy and had friends in common, and. . . "

Jasper rolls his eyes. "We got really, really drunk in Cabo after graduation and woke up with matching tin rings."

"And a pretty sketchy wedding certificate in Spanish," Alice says, jumping back in. "It wasn't legally binding in the States, obviously, and. . . we both thought it was a drunken mistake."

"At first," Jasper states. "But then we kept ending up working on the same assignments."

"And you fell in love," I say, wondering if I'd been present during this time.

"Well, we really just kept falling into bed together," Alice says, winking at me.

Jasper turns kind of red. "That wasn't how it happened."

"Well, it's sort of how it happened, and either way, we weren't supposed to be fraternizing." She turns to him and kisses his cheek. "So we kept it a secret."

Masen appears with two mugs. He puts them down and then grips my shoulder. "A secret, huh?"

When I look up, he's staring at me. "Interesting coincidence," I say.

"Yes, it is," Jasper says, looking between us.

I laugh as Masen coughs lightly and turns around. "Cream or sugar anyone?"

As soon as we all have coffee and the cinnamon rolls are on the table, we work through all the bits and pieces of the last ten years. How our life has been and what we think of North Carolina. We ask them about Colorado and find out about Alice's new job.

She left the U.S. Marshal Service shortly after Jasper was able to get back to work, not in the field obviously, but at the district office in Denver. She couldn't get a transfer from Phoenix and had used all her leave traveling back and forth to Colorado during Jasper's recovery, so she resigned and went back to school instead. Got working on her Ph.D. in Criminology. Now she's an instructor.

They ask us all about Charlie and the house, and whether the District office here takes good care of us. We eventually come full circle, with Jasper admitting he was confused as hell after his accident.

"I mean. . . I was out cold in a hospital for days, and when I come to, Alice says you're safe, but that it had been a close call and Emmett Cullen's older brother was in critical care. And then she leaves for weeks, and the next time I see her, she tells me you've been placed into protection with your new husband. After which, she drops the bombshell that said husband was the previously mentioned older brother, Edward."

I bite my lip and shrug. "Um. . . The heart wants what it wants?"

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," Masen adds. We're both smiling and slightly pink-cheeked.

"Ah, no. No." Jasper says while Alice laughs. "Seriously, I have to ask. What the fuck? I mean, I saw the chemistry, I'll admit. But no matter how many times Alice has tried to explain, I can't figure it out. At least I can't in a way that didn't use to make me want to punch someone"—he looks at Masen—"in the face."

Alice gives me an apologetic look and I can see there's curiosity there too, so I take a deep breath and meet my husband's eyes. "Well. . . "

He's rubbing the back of his very red neck. "Um."

"I guess, it's partly your fault," I tell Jasper.

He balks, but then I tell them the whole story, even some parts I never told Alice. From beginning to end. And, interestingly, it's the first time I've ever told anyone the full story of how I met and fell in love with my husband. It's both exhilarating and odd. And harder than I imagined it would be. I was so lost back then.

"But we made it. We survived," I say.

"And thrived, all things considered," Masen adds, kissing my temple.

"The trial was the hardest part," I continue, taking a breath. "It sucked. I mean, Alice was there. I'm sure she told you. I had to testify at seven and a half months pregnant. We tried to get approval to do video testimony, so I wouldn't need to be physically in the same room with my father's murderer, but it didn't work out. We felt, well I especially, felt really exposed after that. I didn't want anyone associated with Stefan Vladimir to know I was going to have a child. I'd already lost so much. I didn't want her at risk."

Masen rubs my shoulder and covers my hand where it rests on his leg. "You were a trooper though. You were so brave."

I nod. "I had a lot of help from people that loved me. I still do."

He kisses my cheek and Alice clears her throat. "You two are. . . beautiful to watch. I'm really glad everything worked out."

My eyes sting and my throat gets tight as I lean into my husband. "We are too."

Jasper taps the table a few times. "I think. . . I guess I need to admit something here."

"What?" Masen asks, his voice wary, protective.

"Uh. . . well, first I just want to ask. Are you guys happy? Bel—sorry, Leia, are you happy? Here?"

"Yeah," I say, frowning.

"We're very happy," my husband says.

Jasper nods, exchanging a look with Alice. "That's good. That makes me feel a lot better about the ways we failed you back then. No matter how outside of our control the situation may have been, it's never the outcome we want, having to permanently relocate someone."

"I know."

"What is all this leading up to?" Masen asks, giving voice to both our suspicions. Where are they going with this?

"Well, we didn't get into it earlier, but my job with the Marshal Service, since the accident anyway, has been on the cyber-security side of things. Monitoring our witnesses' information, managing access to that information, and performing risk assessments. You name it, I took care of it. And, after everything that went wrong in your case, I became very passionate about it. As time and technology have advanced, so have I. I've recently been promoted, in fact."

"That's great. Congrats."

"Thanks," Jasper says, nodding and reaching for his coffee, taking a quick sip. When he sets it down, he looks from me to Masen and back again.

"So, here's the thing. . . every year Witness Security does risk assessments for its long-term witnesses, and in my new role, I get a list of these assessments to review every quarter. It's my job to ensure that they're being done right, that nothing's been missed, and that no new information has surfaced between the time the cases went up for assessment and the time they are recommended for a change in status."

I nod along, trying to follow.

After a beat of silence, Masen clears his throat and removes his arm from the back of my chair, sliding his fingers through mine where they rest on the table.

"Are you trying to say that our case, or rather, my wife's case is coming up for assessment?"

"I am," Jasper answers. "Well no. . . what I'm saying is that it already went through the process, and I've reviewed it."

"But, you said this was just a personal visit," I say, confused. Just from his grip on my hand, I can tell my husband is thinking the same thing.

Jasper takes a deep breath, and Alice sets her mug down.

"We said it wasn't an official visit," she says, "and it isn't. We're here today because WitSec reviewed your case, and when it came across Jasper's desk, he was able to confirm you're eligible for a change in status, which. . . meant we could both come see you without him losing his job."

Jasper jumps back in. "We talked it over, and I wanted to be the one to tell you about this. And it just so happened we had vacation time now, so here we are."

"I don't get it," I say. "Why didn't I get an official notice of review? Why didn't our district call us in?"

"They will," Jasper said.

Alice slides a hand across the table. "Don't you remember how slow the government works, Bella?"

"I. . . it's Leia," I say, but I'm not even sure why.

"I'm sorry. I know you're right. It's just. . . that's how I remember you."

"Look, that's really sweet, and I don't mean to be rude, but can we get back to this change in status you mentioned?" Masen asks, gesturing to Jasper.

"Yes, please," I say. "I'm still confused."

Jasper nods. "All right. Basically, your risk evaluation came back so clean, you're no longer considered to be under active threat."

My heart gives an extra hard beat. "What?" I whisper.

He smiles softly, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "You're being downgraded, kiddo. The factors that led to you being permanently relocated and monitored by WitSec have changed or been eliminated. For instance, the Vladimir family is bankrupt. They're out of business, here and overseas. Interpol nabbed key figures for conspiracy, treason, and attempted murder in Italy and Romania. Most of them are in prison for the rest of their lives with no chance of parole. And, what was left of their organization was swallowed up by competitors who could give a damn about Vladimir rotting in an American prison.

"So, between that, and having every algorithm we've got in our arsenal come back clean? We can be pretty damn certain nobody's looking for you anymore. In fact, no one's searched the Internet for either of you in the past five years. Barring Edward's family, that is."

"What?" he asks, sitting up as all my breath leaves me.

Jasper shrugs as Alice smiles sympathetically. "Can you blame them? Google is very tempting."

I glance at my husband, and my heart races as I try to make sense of everything. "Jasper, what exactly are you telling us?"

"I'm telling you that you're safe. As safe as you can be where WitSec is concerned. Your life, and the lives of your family, are no longer at any greater risk than any other citizen in this country. If you wanted, you could leave the program entirely."

My mouth falls half-open.

"So. . . "my husband breathes, "you're saying we could. . . what? Come out of hiding?"

The tremor of his voice finally breaks my stupor, and heart racing, I turn to him. Over the years, I've seen shock take many forms, but at this precise moment, my husband's face is twisted with disbelief so severe, it's reached the point of pain.

He's reeling. And while I am too, I know it's different for him.

He gave up on the idea of seeing his family again years ago. Just like he gave up on having more children when I couldn't handle the thought of bringing another helpless innocent into a world fraught with danger and uncertainty. Oh sure, there had been a period of time when we both held on to the hope that maybe someday things might work out, and we wouldn't always have to live like this, but eventually, that time passed. And unlike the possibility of deciding to have more children, the situation with his family was never going to change. He'd accepted that. I'd accepted it.

But if we were able to come out of hiding?

"The option will be presented to you," Jasper says, startling me and reminding me to breathe. "You'll get an official request for a meeting soon, and they'll go over everything with you at that time. I can answer some of your questions now if you like, or I can try to anyway. But you'll also have access to a whole host of people, identity experts, social workers, psychologists and the like when it's made official."

"When?"

"Like I said, probably a week or two."

"I can't believe this," I say.

"What. . . " Masen shakes his head. "What about James Wiles?" he asks, his hand finding mine and covering it protectively. "He met the terms of his plea deal and walked free, right? How is that not a risk to us?"

Jasper sighs, nodding as if he expected this. "Well, you know Ali and I both provided testimony against him, too. You probably also know I fought the plea deal. We," he says, sharing a look with Alice, "wanted attempted homicide charges brought for the accident he caused us, in addition to trying to kill both of you. That said, because of the seriousness of his crimes, and the fact he's a former FBI agent who's put dozens, if not hundreds, of dangerous criminals behind bars, he's not likely to stray far from home."

"But it would be possible."

Jasper tilts his head, pursing his lips. "Technically. But he didn't exactly get a clean slate when he was released and relocated. His new identity still has a felony record. He has a parole officer and has to check in monthly, just like any other felon. He's not allowed to leave his state of residence yet. He's not allowed to own a computer, a gun, or purchase any components to assemble a gun. Same for knives. He's supposed to give an account for any time he spends on the Internet. He has to turn his phone in regularly for checks. The list continues."

I sigh. "But what prevents him from just taking off? And what about his psychological state? Would he be out for revenge at some point? Could he be biding his time?"

Masen's nodding along, his thumb stroking mine over and over.

"We can try to find out," Jasper says. "Those are good questions to ask, and personally, I get it. We're completely exposed ourselves. If he wanted to find us, he probably could. But, at the same time, I'm not losing sleep over it."

Alice chimes in. "We went to his hearing; before they released him. And while we were there to object to it, I didn't get the impression he was anything but sincere when he stated he just wanted to move on and not look back. He was beaten down. Completely changed from the asshole he was when they arrested him. So we don't let it concern us. He's not really free, anyway."

Jasper leans forward, his eyes intent. "Our people watch good guys like you, and bad guys like him every day. We don't ever confuse the two. Even if he did disappear, it wouldn't go unnoticed. I promise you."

I nod, my foot now shaking under the table.

"Listen," Jasper says, sighing, "I know this is unexpected."

"Unexpected," Masen snorts.

I over our clasped hands and take a turn soothing him. "Yeah, that's putting it mildly."

"I know it's a lot to think about. But there's a lot to be gained. And I wouldn't be here if I thought it would endanger you guys."

Alice smiles softly. "There are some perks to all this," she says, leaning back to reach behind her chair. "Jasper and I took the liberty of bringing these with us." She produces a large manila envelope from her bag. "It's um, it's a few pictures of your family and some other information you might want."

Masen's head snaps up. "What?"

"I figured you might not want to wait for official word to start thinking about things. We also realized you might not know where to start, or even feel comfortable reaching out after all this time. This way, you don't have to. At least not right away. You can take some time."

Masen's hand is squeezing the hell out of mine, his eyes intent on the envelope.

Alice shifts in her chair, and slowly lifts the prongs securing the envelope closed. "Um, you should know that Emmett and I kept in touch over the years. We're somewhat close, to be honest. He was at our wedding, and we attended his. These are pictures from then."

My head spins a little. There are four photos. Beautiful, soft-edged wedding photos.

The first one is a shot of Emmett Cullen, dimples and bright blue eyes and all, with his arms around a gorgeous blonde in an utterly gorgeous white gown. They look like something out of a fairytale. Literally. They're standing on a sweeping green lawn with an ornate fountain and what looks to be a castle in the background.

On the table beside that, Alice places another shot. It's the happy couple with a little boy who looks to be about Charlie's age now, maybe a little younger in a grey suit that matches Emmett's. He's clearly related to the bride, but he's on the groom's shoulders, the two of them laughing as she gazes up at them.

Masen's head tilts to the side, and he inhales a long, deep breath.

"Her name is Rosalie," Alice offers. "The boy's name is Henry. Emmett's pretty much the only father he's ever had."

She places a third photo on the table, and I get a glimpse of hair just a shade redder than my daughter's before the fourth picture appears and eclipses it.

"Oh," I say, my hand going to my mouth as Masen reaches for it and grabs it off the table. His other hand goes to my thigh, holding tight.

"It's all of them," he says, and the words are barely audible. The photo shakes a little in his grasp. He breathes in and out, in and out. Then clears his throat. "When was this?" he asks.

I wonder the same. Esme Cullen looks just as I remember her, maybe a little smaller somehow, although her figure also appears fuller than I remember standing near the statuesque bride and Victoria's long, lean frame. Tori's hair is the only thing different about her, it's short and severe, and very businesslike. It's Dr. Cullen who seems the most changed. He's older. Crinkle lines are visible around his eyes and his hair has greyed.

"About six years ago," Alice answers. "Henry's fifteen now. Learning to drive and driving your brother and Rosalie nuts. They've had two boys of their own since then, though. And, if I saw what I think I did on Facebook the other day, they're expecting a third now. So, really they have no one to blame but themselves."

Jasper chuckles beside her, but I'm struggling to take it all in. My husband traces the edge of the photo, silent.

Alice picks up the envelope again. "I have some printouts of them. The kids. And a couple more of your parents, and Tori. She's a junior partner at her firm now. She's still a workaholic, of course, but she and her wife, oh! They got married, too. Tori and her girlfriend Jaime? And they spoil your brother's kids like craz—"

"I'm sorry," Masen says abruptly, "but can you stop. Please."

Alice withdraws her hand and looks up, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"I know," he says, his hand on my thigh still squeezing tight. "I know, but… I don't want to do this now. I can't. I'm sorry." He shakes his head and looks over her shoulder, scooting his chair back.

My heart aches for him as he stands from the table. "Baby."

He looks at me, eyes tortured, and gives me a small shake of his head. I understand. As much as it hurts, I try not to take it personally as he turns to leave.

"Excuse me, please," he says.

My gaze drops to my lap and I stare at my hands while he takes the stairs two at a time.

"I'm sorry," Alice says softly. "I thought he'd want to see them."

I sigh. "I'm sure he does. I think maybe. . . you guys should just give us a few minutes." I start to scoot my chair back.

"No, we'll go," Jasper says.

"You don't have to."

"It's all right," he says. "We caught you off guard. We knew this was a possibility."

I shake my head, swallowing as I look at him. "What was?"

"Some people get angry. Or don't want to hear it, or talk about it."

Alice stretches her hand across the table, touching the edge of the photo of Emmett and Tori with Henry and Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. "It's a lot on a person to adjust to a new life and identity. These kinds of changes aren't always welcome news. We hoped in your case, it would be, but. . . "

"It's a lot," Jasper says.

Alice slides the photos back into the envelope. "I'll leave these with you. If you like. I didn't mean to overstep."

"I think that's probably best. It needs to be his choice, I guess. His way."

"Of course," Alice says. "Again, I'm sorry."

Jasper clears his throat. "Are you at least relieved?"

I frown, opening and closing my mouth twice before finding the words.

"I don't know. I didn't think this would ever be a possibility for us. The only way we've been able to move forward is to put the past to rest. To make peace. The girl I was died. We were both declared legally dead, in fact. We've had years of therapy. Had to accept there were things about us we could never tell our child." I look at both of them, shaking my head and fighting the threat of tears. "Now, you're calling 'take-backs'. "

"I know."

Alice sighs. "I'm sorry if we shouldn't have come."

Jasper takes her hand. "I wanted us to be the one to tell you. It's not often we get a chance in a case like yours. Not that we've had any cases quite like yours, before or since."

I laugh bitterly. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. And, I guess I'm glad you came. It's good to see you. And it's good, right, that I'm supposedly 'safe' now?"

"It is good," Jasper says.

"It's just complicated," Alice concludes.

"You have no idea," I say wiping my eyes. "We have a lot going for us here. And a lot of changes coming up already. This wasn't even remotely a part of our plan."

Alice smiles a watery smile. "I know. I hope you can forgive us."

"If you decide you want to talk again, or have any questions," Jasper says. "We'll be in the area for a week."

"I wrote our phone numbers down, along with. . . " Alice looks at the table. "Emmett's number is in there, too. And your in-laws. Just in case you want to reach out."

My eyes close, tears threatening once again. I nod. "Are we allowed to just. . . do that?"

"I don't see any reason why not," Jasper says.

I just keep nodding. I need to get to my husband.

"I know you're in shock," Alice says, "but I'd love it if we could stay in touch. Maybe that's asking a lot right now, but. . . just know, we're here if you ever need anything."

"I appreciate that," I say.

"Call us if you want to talk again. Seriously," Jasper adds.

I thank them again and then show them out. I feel a small pang of regret as they drive away, but only for a second before I'm bolting up the stairs.

-o-0-o-

The days that follow Alice and Jasper's unexpected visit are difficult. It's like we're experiencing emotional whiplash.

To go from the blissful, top-of-the-world high we were on Friday night, to the shell-shocked place we're in now is devastating. This news should be a good thing. It should be the best thing. To learn we could come out of hiding? That he could talk to my husband's family, see them again? It's a miracle. But for reasons I can't understand, it's also left us both shaken and unsure.

I can barely sleep. I feel like a liar in front of my child. I expend most of my energy putting up a normal, happy façade for her, and I know the same is true for the man lying beside me. He's been laser-focused on Charlie all weekend. But as for what he's thinking or feeling, he's not said a word.

To me, he's been distant and moody. He went for a drive almost as soon as Jasper and Alice left, taking the manila envelope with him, and then he didn't want to talk when he got home.

I understand, to a degree. This news is a lot like having a previously healed wound ripped open again. The edges are raw, the old hurts rise to the surface, and it's obvious he doesn't want me to see him struggle. Nor does he want Charlie to see.

I only wish he'd let me in. I want to hold him and comfort him. I want to feel the warmth of his arms around me and curl up beneath his chin and tell him everything's going to be all right. That I can't? That he won't let me? We haven't had an argument in months, not a real one anyway, but at this point, I'm about to blow.

I've been trying to be brave, to wait for him to open up to me, but as I lie staring at a wall and fighting back tears for the third night in a row, I'm just not sure I can.

"Are you awake?"

His whispered words startle me. I inhale quietly and try not to sniffle too loudly. "Yeah."

He rolls over on his side. "Have you been awake?"

"Yeah."

He breathes in and, after holding it a beat, lets it out. "Thinking?" he asks.

I shift onto my back and stare at the ceiling. "I guess."

His sigh is deep and it's another very long moment before his fingers graze my forearm. My eyes slide shut. "You're upset with me," he says.

"What?" I say, eyes snapping back open. I turn to look at him. "No."

He lifts his hand to my face. "Aren't you?"

"No. I'm just going crazy here."

"Yeah, me too."

A moment passes. He doesn't say anything more.

My throat grows tight as I try to decide where to begin. "You ran off," I whisper at length. "You're avoiding me."

"I'm not," he says, frowning.

"Yes, you are. You've been distant, and snappish. And you won't talk to me."

His frown deepens, his eyes going from worried and confused to pissed in a second. "I. . . Jesus," he whispers, and even as I try to turn away, not wanting to fight with him, he pulls me into him. Sliding his arms around me, he says, "I am such an idiot."

The first of my tears fall as I clutch him tight in return, tucking my face against his neck.

"I'm sorry," he says, rubbing my back. "Please don't cry, baby. I'm so sorry."

My bottom lip trembles as he lifts up on his elbow and slides his arm under my pillow. "Come here. I'm sorry," he whispers again, meeting my gaze and holding it.

"Me too."

"For what?" he asks. "You've been so strong. I've been a mess. I'm just. . . " His fingers move my hair aside as I scoot closer. "I'm. . . I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not."

He tucks me against him and lies down, resting his chin on top of my head. I feel one of his hands ball into a fist before relaxing again.

"You're not," I insist. "Just talk to me."

"Fuck," he says, taking a huge breath. "I don't know what to say. I know should be ecstatic about the news, about getting those pictures. But I'm not. I'm confused and frustrated, and just. . . angry. So fucking angry."

My heart sinks. "At me?"

"No! Christ, no. Baby,"—his arms tighten around me as he rolls us so he can see my face—"why would think that?"

I shrug. "You've hardly spoken to me. You didn't come to bed Saturday night. You spent all day Sunday watching television with Charlie while generally ignoring me. And it's not like I expected it, but. . . we haven't. . . you just haven't touched me since you left me sitting with Jasper and Alice at our kitchen table." I stop, breathing hard and struggling to stop the lump in my throat from rising.

"Shit." He raises a hand and wipes beneath my eyes. "I am an idiot, okay?" He kisses the freshly spilled tears away. "I'm sorry," he says, following them down to my cheeks. "I'm sorry." He reaches my lips. "I didn't mean to do that."

I grip the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing firmly into his next kiss. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and then open to him, inviting him inside. My heart gives a relieved lurch when he dives in, moaning.

"I love you," I whisper into his mouth when we're both breathless.

He pulls back, stroking my cheek with his thumb as he cradles my head in his arms. "I love you. I just didn't know what to say."

"I didn't either."

"I'm. . . confused." He blinks. Then shakes his head. "I don't understand why I can hardly look at those photos. Why I'm angry at Alice for bringing them. For knowing things. Having phone numbers. For getting to go to my brother's wedding, when we couldn't."

I nod, press my lips to his palm, catching it and holding it to my cheek. "I know. To me, that makes perfect sense."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's one of us, at least."

I turn and burrow under his chin again. Pressing my lips to his neck, I work my arms around him. "You're in shock. And, if I'm guessing right, you're scared," I say. "And that makes you angry."

He sighs, his arms adjusting around me. "Maybe. I don't know about the scared part. Shouldn't we feel the opposite of scared if what Jasper said was true?"

I move my lips to a new spot, just under his Adam's apple. "It's not that kind of fear we're dealing with now. It's fear of change. Or the unknown. Or. . ." I inhale and squeeze him tight. "Fill in the blank. There's lots of things."

He breathes deeply, then whispers, "I don't want to do this again."

"Me either."

"I don't want to confuse our daughter."

"I know," I say, feeling the prick of tears despite my eyes being closed.

"I don't want to move back to Forks."

"Okay," I whisper.

He stops, swallows loudly. "I don't want to go back at all. Isn't that awful? I don't want to not see my parents, but. . . even though it was my home, it's not now. And it never was for you. Still, shouldn't I want to go back? At least a little bit?"

I kiss the spot between his collarbones. "I don't think there's a 'should' in this situation." I tilt my head up and run my nose along his jaw. "You feel what you feel. That's okay. You do want to see your parents again, though? Right?"

"Of course, I do. I should have called them already. By now, or written a letter, or gotten on a plane, or something."

"Don't," I say, shaking my head. "Please don't do that to yourself. Even if Jasper and Alice had brought our official 'risk assessment' whatever-it-was with them—even if we had all the details aboutour options—there's still no 'should'."

"Would you have waited even a day? If it was you?"

I know why he's asking, and that he's too busy beating himself up to realize that his words hurt. Tears fill my eyes as I try to shrug off their bite.

"I don't know. I won't ever know. But. . . " I take a deep breath. "I do know that it's been drilled into us, so hard and for so long, to avoid any and all communication with people from our past that, well. . . I think you're terrified to even attempt it."

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. God, I just keep fucking up."

"Stop that," I say, sliding my foot along his calf. "I knew what you meant."

He sighs, squeezing me tight. "It was still thoughtless. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, okay? Now please tell me what's really bothering you. Because we don't have to move anywhere to see your family. Or to get to know them again. Or to have Charlie know them."

He sighs, swallows. Then he's quiet a long time. "What if they don't. . . ?"

"What?" I ask when he doesn't continue. He takes several large breaths, struggling. I'm starting to nod off when he finally stops rubbing my back and says, "What if just seeing us once in a while isn't enough?

"Or. . . what if they've moved on? I mean. . . they may not want to hear from me. It might hurt them worse."

Oh, my love. I push against him with my knees and shoulders and hands, until I'm on my side where I can see him.

"You're their son," I say, my voice thick and my throat tight. "Of course, they'll want to hear from you."

He stares at the mattress between our bodies. "What if they don't? Or if they can't forgive me?"

That stings. I can't help but admit I've spent a lot of time wondering whether forgiveness would be an issue after all these years. I just assumed any resentment would be directed at me. I never considered that they may hold some resentment for him, too. Never thought he'd worry about that either.

"Just. . . think if it were Charlie," I say at last, "and that was us. Would you want to see her?"

It's a quiet thing, but he inhales deeply, and with his next exhale, covers his face and begins crying.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Pushing against his chest, hard because he won't let me go, I get him to roll onto his back and rise over him. He keeps one arm thrown over his face, but I lean over him, slipping my fingers into his hair. His soft, nearly silent sobs wreck me, and it takes all I have to hold myself together and comfort him.

"It's okay, baby. It's going to be all right." I kiss away his tears. Kiss his neck. I hold him tight, and soon I'm crying, because honestly, this is all I've wanted to do since the moment he walked away from me. "It's going to be all right," I whisper.

I repeat it as many times as he needs to hear it. Telling my sweet, loving, once-orphaned husband that his parents would never stop loving him. No matter how much time or distance came between them.

When he grows quiet, when I finally exhaust my own tears, we hold each other and drift.

Hours pass, and sleep comes and goes several times.

"Baby?" he whispers around three a.m.

I run my fingers over his chest, where I've been lying, listening to his heart. "Yes."

He sighs. His fingers curl in my hair. "I love you. So much."

"I love you, too."

"I'm sorry I shut down. I'm sorry I didn't stop to ask you how you're feeling. If you're okay."

I lift my head, my eyes going to his. The intensity there knocks the breath from me.

"You've worked so hard," he continues, "and I know it hasn't been easy. This has to be harder for you than me."

My throat grows tight again, but I smile for him. "I don't know about that."

"How are you taking it?"

I chuff a laugh. "No idea. Honestly, I've been too worried about you."

He strokes my hair, my cheek. "Just me?"

My smile fades. "No, of course I'm worried about what we tell Charlie. How it will affect her."

He nods. "Yeah."

"I really don't want to deal with it right now," I admit.

"Me either," he says, and he kisses me. "I love you, though. I am sorry."

"Stop apologizing," I tell him, pressing my lips back to his.

We kiss for a while, hands weaving together, fingers entwining, followed by legs.

"I want it to be true," he whispers. "I want you safe. I need you safe. Because the way I feel about you and Charlie?" He pulls back and holds my gaze. "It gets stronger. Every day. It borders on pain sometimes."

"Baby. . . " I breathe. "Edward." It's barely audible, little more than a vesper, the whisper from my heart as it aches with love and loss and the memory of how he became a part of me.

He hears it, and his lips lift into a bittersweet, crooked smile as he presses his forehead to mine. "Bellissima. You're still my Bella. My wife and my family. I love you so much."

"Me too." I slide my hand along his chest, resting my palm over his heart. "You're everything. You're my home. Where ever we go. Whatever happens."

I kiss him then, pulling myself on top of him, and as he opens his mouth to me and grips my waist, it's all I can do not to smother him with my efforts to get as close to him as possible. I can feel his body beneath me, responding and urging me on.

He surprises me by pulling away.

"So. . . 'Where ever we go'?"

Oh. I think back on my words and smile. "Yes. Wherever you are, I'm there. With you."

"So, here, or in Forks?"

"Are you planning to be in Forks?" I ask, eyebrow rising.

His lips curve into a crooked half-smile. "Doubtful. The whole town thinks we're dead. Besides, we have a good life here," he says.

I smile, and he lets me kiss him this time. "We do. And we've fought hard for it."

"We have," he says and kisses me back.

"This house alone is worth staying for," I say, teasing his lips, feeling a weight lift from both of us.

His grin widens. "Indeed."

"Your successful, growing business too. And our friends."

"Yeah, everything's pretty great," he says.

I smile. "And Charlie's happy."

"She is," he says, lowering his voice. "We brought her home here. To this bedroom."

"Yeah," I say, adjusting my knees as he shifts under me, eyes intent.

"I want to bring the new baby home here."

"Me too," I answer, looking at the partly open door, toward the two doors across the hall. One of them Charlie's, and the other the door to our ever-evolving extra bedroom. It's been an office, a music room, a playroom-slash-craft room.

Sitting up, Masen kisses me quick, then grips my backside to move me aside. He crosses the room in three long strides and carefully closes our bedroom door. The lock clicks quietly as he turns around.

I cock an eyebrow at him. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm apologizing properly," he says, returning to bed and climbing back under the covers. "For being an idiot."

I let out a small sigh, as he shoves all the pillows out of the way and sits up. "You're not an idiot."

"No, but I did a good impression of one," he says, urging me up. I happily climb over him until we're settled chest to chest, cheek to cheek, my legs on either side of his.

He stretches his hands wide across my back and exhales. "There, that's better."

I hum in contentment.

He nuzzles me with his nose. "Will you look at those pictures with me?"

"Of course. But, right now?" I ask.

He chuckles. "Well, not now. But will you look at them with me?"

"I'd love to," I say, stroking his spine and the hair at the nape of his neck. "You haven't gone through them yet?"

"No."

"All right. We'll do it together."

He sits back and smiles, slow and sweet, before pressing our lips together. I moan and sigh all at once, melting into him.

His hands are gentle on my body, but purposeful. His fingers slide over and around my hips close to where they meet his. "Our life's about to get a whole lot bigger. Isn't it?"

"Maybe. Probably," I say, kissing his shoulder.

"It's a hell of a time to be thrown a curve ball."

I nod, breathing him in. "Yeah. . . but I guess life is like that. For everybody. We try to plan, but we don't have a lot of control."

He lifts his chin, turning his face to drag his nose along mine, then covers my mouth with his. He breaks away to trail his lips along my jaw and down my neck, moving my hair aside with his nose to gain better access.

"When. . . " he says, resting his cheek on my shoulder and curling his hands around me so that his thumbs stroke my pubic bones. "When do you think we'll know?"

"Another week or so," I say, shivering at his touch and the feel of him beneath me, rising to the occasion. "Maybe less. I can check my app."

"You have an app for that?" he says, raising his head, his expression an interesting mix of amusement and desire.

I blush. "Yes."

"Kinky."

I giggle. "More like handy."

"Can I see?"

"Um, sure. Now?"

"Oh, yeah."

I give him a speculative look, but lean across him, letting him hold my waist while I reach toward my nightstand. Grabbing my phone, I pull it off the charger. He waits patiently while I unlock it and open my feminine health app. He takes it from me after a cursory introduction and starts poking at it.

"So why is today not a color?"

"Because I'm not in my fertile window, but I don't have my period yet."

"The pink one is your period?"

"Yes," I answer, laughing lightly at his face.

"What are these dots?"

I laugh again. "What do you think?"

He squints and moves the phone closer to his face.

"I'll give you hint," I say. "There are no dots the past three days, but there are dots on all the days before that, starting with the day I kidnapped you from work."

"Oh," he says, "That's when we've had sex."

"Yep."

He turns his head and grins. "That's a lot of dots."

I giggle. "Yes, it is."

He turns my screen off and hands me the phone. I dump it on the nightstand.

"Did you always keep track of the dots?" he asks, hands roaming.

I shake my head. "Not until I had my IUD removed."

His lips drop to my shoulder again. "And when did you do that?"

"Ah, a month or so ago. It was time for it to be replaced and well. . . " I shiver as he parts his mouth, his tongue darting out. "Actually, I think some things should remain a mystery."

"Oh?" he says and starts pushing my top up.

I nod. "Yes."

"So. . . we have a week left until your period?" he asks, fingers stroking my skin, his hips pressing up.

I laugh even as my stomach clenches. It feels really good after the heaviness of the night and the previous two days. "Approximately."

He slides my camisole the rest of the way off.

"Would you like to add a dot to my calendar, Mr. Collins?" I ask, thrilled at his reverent exploration of my skin.

He longingly traces a finger over the curve of my breast. "I would, yes. If you're not too tired."

"I'm exhausted. But I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he says, "Will you let me make it up to you?"

"I think I can do that," I whisper.

"Yeah?"

I nod, gasping as his tongue trails over my breast. "Oh, yeah. Yes. . . "

My body is tired, and my eyes are heavy from fatigue and tears, but it's easy to let desire take hold. My eyes slide closed as Masen's mouth and hands ignite a fire deep inside. There's a desperation beneath his touch that sends the feeling spreading from my belly to my limbs. I am awash with the need to reconnect, to reassure, and to rekindle the passion of these past two weeks.

After surviving years of ups and downs—of intermittent grief, depression, and anxiety—we deserve some pleasure. We've earned a second honeymoon phase: Stolen kisses, secret lunch meetings, and long minutes of sleepy bliss in the dead of night. Hell, we've probably earned much more than that, but right now, this—my husband's urgent kisses and slow, rocking hips—are enough.

"I need you," I whisper. "Always. Just like this."

"You have no idea," he answers, trailing his lips over my sternum. "I love you so much."

I moan and slide my fingers through his hair, cradling him against my heart. He nuzzles against me for a moment before shifting to my other breast and sucking it into his mouth. His name spills from my lips as I arch into him, gasping. He worships me, rocks us together, and holds me tight. I run my hands down his back and begin pushing at the waistband of his pajama pants. With a groan, he shifts me back, and, in a move that stuns and excites me, lays me flat on my back with my head at the foot of the bed. His body stretches on top of mine, his lips trailing up, up, up as I fumble with his waistband.

He kisses me hard, his hand sliding from my ass to my breast and back again, before sitting back and removing his bottoms. Then he takes care of mine.

I reach for him as he parts my legs and bends, kissing his way up my thighs, inhaling deeply when he reaches the apex.

"So good," he says, his breath washing over my center.

His fingers grip my hips, lifting me to his mouth. I gasp and grip the edge of the bed, holding on as his tongue circles round and round, sending me soaring. In little more than a minute, every muscle is tensed and ready. I'm right there, on the brink of exploding, but I want all of him inside me… I want him to come with me.

"Please. Please," I beg, pulling at him, grabbing him by the hair.

His groan rumbles through me as he lifts his eyes to mine and shakes his head no, never stopping. I gasp, open my mouth, and try to tell him to wait, it's too much, but he grins and closes his eyes, sliding his thumb to the very base of my slit and pressing, entering me achingly slowly. His tongue speeds and he hums, making me shout and shake as his thumb discovers a spot I never knew was there.

He's hitting my clit just so, his thumb sliding back and forth, back and forth, mimicking what I really want from him and yet not giving it to me. Yet, it's so good. Beyond good, and I am suddenly catapulting over the edge, coming hard, my body jerking and my hands squeezing the shit out of the mattress and Masen's hair. Waves of ecstasy pulse through me, but he doesn't stop, even when I'm nearly suffocating him, my legs snapping closed. He pulls another shocking wave of pleasure from me. And another.

I'm whimpering by the time he pulls my hand from his hair and climbs up my body. His arms fall on either side of my head as he braces himself above me, gripping my face by my jaw and turning my head to kiss me. He licks his lips first, then covers my mouth with his, moving his hips into position so I can't even care I'm tasting myself on his tongue. I widen my legs, lifting them as I feel his hard, hot length slide along my entrance. It jumps, pulsing slightly, making him groan and remove his mouth from mine.

He presses his forehead to my shoulder. "Shit, gonna come already."

I hold still, shaking still, but rubbing his back gently and trying not to be selfish and take him inside me before he's ready.

"What do you want?" I whisper. "How can I help?"

He chuckles darkly, then lifts his face to meet my eyes. "Just hold onto something."

I barely have a second to react before he slides home in one solid, sure movement. I cry out, my body bowing as every inch of him stretches and claims me.

He's hard—so hard—and demanding. He nips at my bottom lip as he starts thrusting, going progressively deeper with each pass. It's been a few days and I'm swollen from my orgasm, so it hurts a little, but when I hiss, he backs off and kisses me tenderly, whispering apologies. I shake my head, telling him I liked it.

He presses our foreheads together, his eyes holding mine as he tests out a gentler rhythm. It's still good, but I liked the roughness and rawness of his passion and want more of that.

"I'm okay," I whisper against his lips. "Just go. Take me. Take what you want."

He watches me for another few moments, still moving slowly, pulling almost all the way out before pressing back again, then repeating the motion until he feels, as I do, when I soften around him and everything becomes slicker, easier. He groans, then nods and speeds up. I slide my hands over his back to his waist, gripping him to encourage him. His muscles flex beneath my fingers as he begins to lose himself to the roll of his hips, going harder, then harder still. When I'm bouncing slightly with each thrust, I moan in approval and tighten my legs around him.

Reaching behind him with one hand, he helps pull them higher on his hips. My body instantly tightens. Pure pleasure shoots through my veins as I throw my arms over my head to grip the end of the mattress, arching my back and causing him to hit me in just the right spot.

"Yeesss," he groans, feeling it right away. "Oh, yes. Fuck."

My mouth falls open in a silent cry, my body shaking as I climb higher, literally, and figuratively. His free arm slides above my head and he clasps my wrists tight, long fingers wrapping around them to keep me from sliding off the bed.

"I've got you," he says, even as my head tilts over the edge of the mattress.

He lowers his lips to my neck and sucks as he continues to make my body bounce with each thrust. When he's close to sending us both sliding to the floor, he pulls back, pulls nearly all the way out, and then slides in deep. Slowing himself as he gathers me to him, keeping me from falling.

He releases my leg and presses up on one arm, still holding my wrists to the bed with the other. The angle changes the way he's hitting me and we both groan. He presses in so deep, barely pulling out each time he push, push, pushes forward, using his knees to dig in and keep us both in place.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers.

"Don't stop," I cry, "Please, don't stop."

I'm panting and begging. Please, God, please, please, please don't stop.

He doesn't. He's unleashed again. Hips rolling now, fast and hard, he goes and goes, until my head is hanging off the bed again and his lips are on my breasts, nearly biting as he groans and shakes.

"Fuck!" he cries, nearly collapsing.

The sound makes my body tighten and pulse around his, and before I know it, he shudders, burying his face in the mattress near my shoulder and grunting, loud and long, as he lets go. His length kicks inside me and, as he explodes, I'm soaring with him, trembling, and gripping his body in answer over and over.

I'm breathless, my back arched, my breasts tight, pulsing as he empties into me in streams I can actually feel. My orgasm continues for what feels like minutes. I shake with love for him, with utter bliss and ecstasy. I never want it to end.

"Oh, God," he says, dropping his weight onto me at last. I realize idly that though he's clearly spent, he's still pushing his hips weakly into mine.

"I know," I say, wrapping my arms around him now, sliding my fingers through his sweaty hair, and over the expanse of his back, to his waist. He hums and pushes into me once more, his fading hardness sending phantom shivers through me before he goes still. I sigh and try to hold him there. He helps by grabbing one of my legs and hitching it over his hips, holding it there for me with his arm.

"I think my heart may have just stopped," he mumbles.

I almost laugh, but don't. I can feel our hearts pounding against each other like they're in competition for something. Despite that, and the continued aftershocks of our pleasure, his heart is slowing. His breathing is steadying. Mine on the other hand is getting harder to catch thanks to my head hanging off the bed.

I rub my husband's back, struggling to lift my head and fill my lungs with air. He continues to shake on top of me, but lifts his head and slips from my body, releasing my leg and rolling to the side as he helps pull me back onto the mattress. I turn my face and sigh, pressing my lips to his shoulder.

"Wow," he whispers, still breathless.

I smile and throw my arm over his chest. "Are you all right?"

He chuckles, and the sound is low and well-pleased. "I think I'm a little high."

"Me too," I say, rolling onto my side to curl myself against him.

"I'm sorry I crushed you."

I run my palm over his chest, feeling his heart slow. "It's okay. Crush me like that anytime."

He laughs again and then sighs, humming contentedly and wrapping me in his arms. "That was incredible. Are you sure I wasn't too rough?"

"Not at all," I say closing my eyes. "I wanna do that again."

He snorts, amused. "Right now?"

I giggle, opening one eye. "Obviously not."

He grins my favorite crooked grin. "Raincheck, then."

"Definitely."

When at last we've gathered the strength to move and shifted to lying the right way in the bed, I can barely keep conscious long enough to whisper, "I love you."

"I love you too," Masen says, fingers grazing my spine lazily. "Am I forgiven?"

Smiling, I press my lips to his skin. "You are very, very forgiven."

-o-o-o-

Morning comes far too early, of course. We're short on sleep and moving slow when it's time to rise, but there are smiles and soft touches, and Masen pulls the manila envelope out of his dresser drawer and puts it with his wallet and keys before getting in the shower.

"Can you do lunch today?" he asks when he emerges, towel around his waist.

"Um, I think so," I say, looking everywhere for the matching earring to the set I wanted to wear today. "I can confirm when I get to the office, is that all right?"

"Of course."

"And you have Charlie?" I ask.

"I've got her. Relax. You're beautiful. What are you looking for?" he asks, moving behind me.

I show him my earring, and like magic, he finds it in less than three seconds, right where I was just looking.

"God, I love you," I tell him, kissing him quickly as I throw it on. "You have no idea."

He grins, and the light is back in his eyes. His cheeks turn softly pink. "I think I have a small inkling."

I wish I had time to make remarks about our late night, but I really don't. I have to say goodbye and hurry out of the house, barely stopping to greet my daughter.

"Have fun today at camp, firecracker."

As I kiss her I run a mental checklist. Keys, phone, purse, and. . . I'm forgetting something, so I spin a few circles in the kitchen until I remember. Right, my laptop, which I brought home yesterday because I was useless for anything.

When I've got it, I return to the kitchen table where my baby puckers up and gives me an overly dramatic goodbye kiss. "Mmmwhah!"

"Mmwhah!" I say back. "I love you. Be good. I'll see you tonight."

She waves me off and I go. I make it to work on time, only just, but fortunately, once I'm there, I can slow down and breathe.

I have tons to catch up on from the past couple days, so before I know it, slow-moving as I am, I'm also in the zone. By mid-morning, I figure out a way to shuffle some things to open my schedule up for the afternoon. I'll have to pop back into the office for a conference call at three, but I'll have extra time to dedicate to my husband—a fact that makes me very happy.

Everything feels better today, even though there's so much still to think about and discuss. This change in our lives, and that stupid manila envelope, are going to continue to be a distraction until we deal with them. But we will deal with them, and we'll do it together.

By noon, I'm starving anyway, so I shoot Masen a text and let him know I'm on my way. He answers to meet me in Studio One, rather than his office.

I arrive within fifteen minutes, with food and drink, and butterflies in my stomach that have nothing to do with how nice he looks today.

"So. . . I caved and ordered Panera," I tell him. "I had coupons, and they had coffee."

He chuckles, taking the drink tray from me. "That's perfect. Thank you, baby."

I lean up to kiss him. "What? No lecture about not supporting other local business owners?"

He hums and smiles, letting me go. "Not after two hours of sleep, hell no."

I laugh as he closes the door behind us, locking it as well.

"How was your morning?" he asks.

"Very productive, actually. Much better than yesterday."

He moves some things aside on the coffee table in the center of the outer room and plops them into the work chair he just vacated. There is a small couch against the wall by the door, across from the soundboard. The window into the recording studio is black, telling me he wasn't recently recording anything.

"Good," he says. "Same here. Well, sort of. I'm not sure how productive I've been, but I didn't bite anyone's head off either, so that's something."

I start removing our food from the bag. "Did you talk to Liam?"

He sighs, sitting on the sofa. "A little. I apologized."

"For what?"

"The aforementioned biting off of heads."

I make a face. "Really?"

He shrugs. "It's fine now. We can explain it to him and Siobhan both when we decide what the hell we're doing, I guess."

I nod and sit next to him, sliding his sandwich over. He hands me my iced tea, mostly decaf, before pulling his dark-roast coffee from the drink tray. I'm only a little jealous.

When we've finished eating and made out a little—not necessarily in that order—we toss our trash back into the bag and move it to the floor.

"Shall we?" he asks, wiping his hands with a napkin.

I nod, and he stands, leaning over the coffee table to a shelf where one of his binders rests, the oversized manila envelope peeking out. He grabs it and sits down again, tapping it against the table a few times.

I put my hand on his knee and kiss his cheek. He smiles, and with a deep breath, opens it wide, turns it upside down, and allows everything inside to spill out on the tabletop.

"Whoa," I say, catching a few photos that slide close to the edge.

"Here goes nothing," he says, turning them over, beginning with the wedding photos which we recognize, and sorting the rest into a neat pile.

I stay quiet, letting Masen lead. There's a lot to process.

Photos of Emmett's wedding, and some of his new family, his wife—huge and pregnant–and the boy, Henry. There's Carlisle and Esme dressed up for Halloween. All of Emmett's family dressed similarly in another shot. There's Tori and her girlfriend, Jaime, both dressed in white on what looks like a cruise ship. My husband's parents, on a smaller boat over turquoise waters. Another of them at their home, Emmett and Tori standing behind them in the large dining room. Then another showing a pair of proud grandparents, looking a little tired, one holding a baby and the other a toddler.

That one hurts a little to see, but we spread them all out. Moving them into what seems like close-to-chronological order, as best we can tell. It's a cobbled-together story of a decade. A glimpse of them, without us.

"My dad's hair is almost white," he says of the most recent one.

"I noticed that, too," I said.

"Do you think. . . does he look like he's been sick?"

He is a little thinner maybe, but he's pretty tan too. "I don't know. He could be one of those men who gets to keep all his hair, just. . . white."

"Hmm," Masen says, picking up the Halloween picture of Emmett's family, all dressed as DC characters. He traces his finger over the front steps and then taps the number under the porch light.

"That's my house." There's a pause then he scoffs. "Sonofabitch stole my house."

I smile, amused. "I never saw your house. Was it nice?"

"It was okay. Kind of big for just me, but I guess it makes sense for Emmett to have kept it. All those kids."

I pick up the photo of the Cullens at the dining table where a certain math teacher had first tutored me.

"Your parents' house was big, too."

"Made sense for them as well, at the time they bought it. Two teenage boys, and then later my sister."

I shake my head and turn the photo toward him. "You've been saying it, and I thought so too, but I really can't believe how much Charlie looks like Tori."

He smiles softly and sighs. "I don't know now. . . now that she's a little older, I see more of you in her. Just the hair is Tori's. And that chin, poor girls. They both got my chin."

I laugh softly. "Hey, don't hate on the chin. It's beautiful, like you. And so are they."

He wrinkles his nose and looks back at the photos, exchanging the Halloween photo for another. "Emmett's kids are cute. Look at all that blond hair."

"I wonder what their names are. How old they are?"

He flips the photos over. "Doesn't say."

"We can call Alice later. She probably knows."

He sighs again, putting the photo down and wrapping his arm around me. "I might just call Emmett instead," he says, resting his chin on my head.

My heart kicks a little faster. "Yeah?"

He nods. "I think it's about time I just get it over with."

"Get it over with?"

He shrugs again. "You know what I mean. It's just. . . "

I run my hand up his back into his hair and then kiss his temple. "You're nervous?"

"Ridiculously so. I have no idea what to say."

"We'll figure it out."

His knee bounces as he sighs again. "Do you think maybe we ought to wait until we get the official notice of all this?"

I keep moving my fingers over his short hair, taking a breath to consider it. "I'm sure Alice wouldn't have given us all this if it was going to be a problem, but it can't hurt to ask them. Jasper said to call with any questions."

"Well, that's good. I have a shit-ton of questions. And my folks will have questions."

I slide my hand onto his leg, squeezing gently and running my thumb along his inseam for comfort. "Why don't we call Alice and Jasper and ask them to meet us for dinner or something? They wanted to see us again if we were up for it anyway."

His hand covers mine, and then he's still, just breathing for a moment, staring at the photos. My thumb keeps moving, back and forth.

"You're right," he says and grabs my hand. "I made an ass out of myself the other day. It would be good to have them over. Try again."

"I'll set it up. Do you want me to call now?"

"In a minute. There's something else I want to ask you about."

"What?" I ask.

"Well, it's been a few years, but I know my mom well enough to realize she'll want to know when she can see us. I just wonder if you've thought about that at all."

"I have. I tried not to guess what you would want to do, but. . . did you notice this?"

Biting my lip, I sift through the miscellaneous papers we set aside while sorting photos—the sheet with phone numbers and a newspaper article about Tori's firm, and somewhere. . . there. I pull out what looks like a printout of a Facebook or Instagram post. It didn't really make sense when I first saw it. But, now, as I examine it better, I wonder if Alice had known somehow.

"What is it?" Masen asks as I hand it to him.

He takes it, and I wait a moment. He's frowning at first, his eyes roving over the page and then suddenly widening in surprise. "They're going on a cruise this summer."

I nod. "That's sure what it looks like," I say. "And. . . if I'm reading this right, it overlaps with our anniversary trip."

He sets the picture down, and then props his elbows on his knees and runs his hands through his hair. He turns his head, looking at me with utter bewilderment.

"Call Alice. We need to find out about this."

I nod and let out a breath. "Okay. Are you all right?"

Huffing, he nods and sits up. "Hell if I know."

"Let me get my phone."

"Wait," he says, grabbing my hand. "Come here."

He tugs on my arm and pats his leg, so I climb into his lap. "I can't reach my phone from here."

He smiles sardonically and leans in, kissing me softly. "Leave it a minute."

I'm happy to comply. I lean into his next kiss, wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders. He nips at my bottom lip, then pulls it into his mouth, sliding his hands up my back and surrounding me. We kiss until we're both a little breathless. Masen hides his face in my hair, taking great gulps of my scent. I rest my cheek on his head, my gaze falling to the coffee table.

The faces of my in-laws stare back at me, all of them strangers in so many ways, but—except for my new sister-in-law and our nephews—still familiar. Is it wrong that I wonder what they will think of me? Will they hate me? Will they love Charlie the same as if they'd known her all her life? The same as their other grandchildren? I can't see why they wouldn't—she's pretty great if I do say so myself—but there are ten years' worth of unknowns between us.

Honestly, if my husband is nervous about reconnecting with his family, then I'm doubly so.

"How much longer do you have before you have to head back?" he asks suddenly, his voice low.

"I can stay until two-thirty. That gives us almost two hours."

His relief is palpable, even before he turns my face up and kisses me again. "Good. I could use a nap. Will you lie with me?"

I look at the sofa dubiously. "I don't think we'll fit."

He grins. "We'll fit."

"What about calling Alice?" I ask.

"So call Alice and then lie down with me."

I laugh, running my fingers through his hair. He really does look tired. "All right, baby. Let me grab my phone."

-o-0-o-

EPOV—

It's a beautiful night. The sky is that deep shade of blue it turns just before it goes black. Stars shine overhead while heat lightning illuminates the sky off in the distance. Storm clouds roll over the mountains far to our west, the source, no doubt, of the cool summer breeze blowing through the hills.

Tail lights fade down our driveway, the red glow fading slowly into the rapidly descending night.

"I hope they get to the highway before it's completely dark," my wife says softly, her voice rougher than usual.

I sigh and squeeze my arms around her. "They'll be fine. They've been all over these mountains this week. Not to mention they used to dodge bullets for a living."

"Har har," she says, looking over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are faintly red, but she's smiling. "Tonight went well."

"It did," I say, kissing her forehead. "One hurdle down, I guess."

She sighs and closes her eyes, snuggling into me. "Two, really. We introduced Charlie to people from our past. And she liked them."

I smile, faintly amused. "Yeah, she did. And she didn't ask as many questions as I feared."

"No, that was surprising though. Then again, Alice was really good at diverting her."

"Years of experience, no doubt," I say.

She sighs. "Yeah. We should probably go set the fireflies they caught free–before they die."

I nod and squeeze her waist. "Yeah, I suppose. I'll lock up if you want to go ahead."

She turns in my arms and rises on her toes. "Sure. I'll check on Charlie first, make sure she's really out."

Nodding, I kiss her quickly, then turn to lock the porch up. At the screen door, I take another moment to look out over the mountains and watch the lightning. A destructive force if you're standing in the wrong place, but also a beautiful one. It feels much like the choices my wife and I have before us.

After I've secured the rest of the house, checked the cameras, and helped Leia start the dishwasher, I pull her with me through the sliding doors into the backyard.

With Charlie tucked safely in her bed, and the citronella torches still burning around the back deck, I want to enjoy the night a little longer. We also have fireflies to loose.

I lead her to one of our rarely used chaise lounges. Sitting, I make room for her between my legs. And when she's leaning against me, I put a toe down and push, causing the chair to glide gently back and forth as she opens the jar in her hands.

"Fly little fireflies, fly," she says softly.

I chuckle and watch her wave them away with her hands, then close the jar.

"So. . . " she says after setting it down on the deck. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking. . . I liked what Jasper had to say about balance. And that we don't have to tell anyone anything if we don't want to. Or if we don't want them nosing around in our pasts."

She hums and plays with my fingers. "Yeah. Same here."

I continue rocking us. "Also. . . I'm thinking sending a letter to my parents, instead of phoning them, sounds better all the time."

She nods. "He made a good point about giving them some time to process as well."

"Either way, I think we need to set an appointment with Angela or Ben soon. Plan on getting back into counseling on the regular. We need to decide what's going to be best for us on our end of things before we involve others. And we need to talk more about Charlie."

"I'm feeling a little better about that part of it," she says. "It's good to know we're not the first witnesses to go through this."

I nod, inhaling thoughtfully. "Charlie's going to be mad, though. If not now, then someday. I can see that coming."

Leia—Bella—my wife, lifts my fingers and places a kiss over the knuckles. "I don't know about that. So far, she's been good about accepting that there are grown-up, complicated reasons why we don't talk to your family. And that they live very far away—too far for us to see them."

"And when we change that? Sweep the rug out from under her?"

She sighs. "We don't have to do that. We can keep it simple, just try to tell her things with your family have changed and that, hopefully, she'll get to meet her grandparents very soon. Along with her aunt and uncle and cousins."

"All right," I say, "but when she asks why? Or what changed?"

She shrugs. "We tell her it's not important. Not right now."

"And then what. . . distract her with a cruise? Say, 'Oh by the way, would you like to meet them in three weeks on a big, shiny boat?' "

She glances at me over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "Oh yes, that's exactly what I was going to say."

I squeeze her sides and make her squeal. "Then what?"

She grabs my hands and pulls them back around her waist. "I hadn't gotten that far yet. This whole cruise thing is throwing a wrench in the works for me, too."

She settles against my chest again, taking a deep breath as I nuzzle her neck. She seems so relaxed, meanwhile, I'm trying to imagine Charlie's inevitable questions and eventual anger, and how she'll react to having so many new people wanting to meet her. And if they'll want to meet her. Will they treat her the same as they do Emmett's children?

"It's sort of the fantasy, isn't it?" my wife murmurs, pulling me back from my thoughts. "Go on vacation and there they are. At the airport, or on the beach somewhere, or at a restaurant."

"At Disney World," I add, remembering a night in Orlando not so long ago when we'd been surrounded by a sea of people and the thought had occurred to us both.

Everywhere you looked there were families from all around the globe. A family wearing matching Seahawks t-shirts had caught my eye, and it was hard not to think about the fact my family could be anywhere, at any time. We were allowed to travel, as long as we told the Marshal service where we were going, so why not? My parents were frequent enough travelers. Couldn't fate be kind?

I wondered if my mother had been thinking the same thing when she shared their trip confirmation on her Instagram. It was slightly out of focus at the edges, but the dates were circled and a cute cartoon-shaped "CARIBBEAN BOUND!" was emblazoned across the top.

"You know. . . if you wanted to look into it, baby. We could. It would probably be expensive, especially last minute, but I imagine we could figure it out. Well, depending on how much you've spent on whatever this mystery anniversary plan of yours is."

She does her best to tempt me into revealing something to her. Arching her eyebrow and then pouting. I throw my head back, staring at the sky and trying not to be frustrated. Even if I wanted to tell her, if we end up changing our plans, what's the point?

"I don't know," I say. "Part of what I've been planning is refundable. And I could probably change the rest with small penalties. But, it's awfully close. We'd both have to make new arrangements at work, and it's a huge trip. Charlie doesn't even have a valid passport."

She rubs my arms as I lower my head, meeting her gaze. "Don't be mad, but I thought of that already. Turns out, she wouldn't need one if we're both traveling with her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She rolls on her hip, carefully moving so she's facing me. I lower my knees and she moves hers so she's stretched out on top of me. "I looked it up."

"What else did you look up?" I ask, putting my arms around her back.

"Just some basics. The cruise line's website had info on the ship and the ports of call, as well as what documentation is required to travel. They have a service to help with all that. We could expedite processing and get her passport issued in Miami."

"Well, that's all well and good, but it's too close, isn't it? We won't have near enough time to plan. And you very much like to plan."

"You're right," she says, sliding a hand up my chest. "I do. We can totally forget it. I just thought we should know if it was even a realistic option."

I sigh heavily. "Even if it is, besides the fact I've already planned our anniversary trip, what are we going to tell Charlie? How is she going to react to having grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins dropped on her at the last minute? Then there's our maybe-baby to consider. What if you're pregnant and you start feeling sick? Do you really want to be on a boat?"

She turns her face, so her chin rests on my sternum. "It's a ship, baby, not a boat."

"Same thing if you're puking your guts out. Trust me. Are you really pushing this?" I ask, eyes intent.

She exhales a breath. "I don't know. It just seems so. . . kismet. Too great a coincidence to ignore."

"Okay, I understand and I even agree, but. . . one point still stands, you don't like surprises. You don't like doing things last minute."

"I know. That is an honest problem, especially if I can't take anxiety meds."

"Exactly. I've been teasing you about our anniversary, I know, but only because we've already talked about the beaches on Sanibel Island before, and I knew it would be a good surprise."

Her eyes pop wide, a small gasp escaping her even as I curse. Shit.

"What did you say?" she asks.

I groan and wipe my face. Then sigh and look back at her with a grin.

"Surprise?"

She smiles brightly and then kisses me. "You slipped!"

I can't help but laugh. "I did," I say against her lips.

She nips at me playfully. "This is the best way to be surprised."

Chuckling, I pull her to me, capturing her mouth with mine as she slides her hands over my shoulders and into my hair. "Thank you," she says against my lips. "Sanibel Island, really?"

"We fly out in three weeks."

Her smile is so wide, her eyes alight, even in the darkness. "Where did you make reservations?" she whispers.

I roll my eyes. "I'd like to keep some of the mystery if that's okay with you."

She grabs my face. "Please?"

"No," I say, laughing. "Especially if it doesn't end up happening."

"All the more reason to tell," she replies, kissing me. "I will be surprised now, and I can thank you now."

"Tempting," I admit as she kisses me again. I pull her hands from my cheeks and have her wrap them around my neck. "But no."

I try to distract her with my mouth and hands, but before we can get too carried away, she pulls back.

"Wait. I have a question."

"Of course you do." I smile indulgently.

"I. . . " She makes a face, wrinkling up her nose. "I sorta saw the credit card statement the other day, and there may or may not have been something about Disney World on there."

My eyes narrow. "Sorta saw?" I ask. "Or you went over it line by line?"

"You left it out," she cries. "I looked away as soon as I realized there were travel charges on there. I tried to be good, but now I'm confused."

"Snoop," I say, sighing even though I'm smiling. I run a single finger down her cheek. "I thought we could do a couple days at Disney World for Charlie before we head home. It was only a small difference in airfare to split the tickets."

Her eyes grow tender. "That's perfect. I love it. I love the whole thing. And I love you."

I grin, twisting my lips into her favorite smile. "Good," I say.

We stare into each other's eyes for a few moments. Her body is warm and soft on top of mine, and as she rubs my chest, I know she's aware of the effect it's having on me.

"I guess all that's costing quite a bit as it is," she says softly as I slide my hands down her back.

"It's costing enough. But don't worry about that right now. The real question is, now that you know, would you be willing to cancel and go on a cruise with my long-lost family instead?"

She inhales through her teeth. "That's a good question."

"It is."

"Are you willing to do that?" she asks, moving her hand up and down my chest once again.

I caress her hips. "I don't know. I just wanted this to be our best anniversary yet. And I was able to do this for you, certain it would be everything you wanted, only because you'd already 'dream-planned' every little detail of it last year." She laughs. "As soon as we hit the airport, you'd already know where we'd flying into. You'd know what's in the area, and what you want to do while we're there. I figured you'd already know which spa treatments you'd want, and if I'm guessing right, you probably know every single restaurant you'll want to eat at, too."

She smiles and slides her thumb over my cheek. "You know me well."

I press my lips to hers. "I do. That's why I worry about your ability to enjoy something we've never even researched so last minute. You won't have time to spend weeks and weeks reading Trip Advisor reviews."

"The horror," she says, eyes widening in gest.

I smile, but hold her gaze, serious. "I really worry. Your anxiety will kick in. My anxiety is a guarantee. Charlie will be expecting us to have all the answers and a plan for each day, like every other trip we've ever taken. And it's our anniversary, Bellissima. We're supposed to be having a good time. Spending it doing romantic things,"—I lower my voice—"sexy things."

She laughs, and my hands slide from her hips and move lower, pulling her gently to me. "We should be focusing on us."

"I know," she says. "You're right."

We kiss until the glider starts rocking us a little faster than it's meant to and threatens to tip us backward.

"Whoa!" I say, letting go of her to sit up.

She shrieks and giggles, holding tight to my neck. "Oh, shit. Shh. . . Shh."

Laughing under our breaths, we listen for signs we may have woken Charlie. While we do, I notice several of the torches have gone out and the clouds seem to be rolling closer.

"We should probably head in soon," I whisper.

My wife nods but doesn't seem in a hurry to get up. Not that I mind. I let her hold me as the cicadas chirp away and the wind picks up.

"I had a thought, real quick," she murmurs.

"What?"

"What if we change our flights again, but just push Disney back and do it another time? Maybe we could do Miami instead and still see your family even if we don't cruise. We could surely find a nice hotel there, too."

I sigh, my stomach fluttering in a very unmanly way. I had thought about doing something like that myself. It made me nervous though, as did any thought of planning a reunion. There was so much to consider.

"I don't like Miami for Charlie. I looked, but there aren't many family-friendly resorts that also hit the romance make. But. . . " I sigh again. "I know my parents would extend their trip to see us if we let them know we'd be there."

"That's a no-brainer."

I meet her eyes, soaking in her tender understanding. "I can look into it. Call the airline, at least."

"I can hit up Trip Advisor and Google for hotels in Miami. And we know Disney will just move our reservation to another date."

I nod. "Yeah, we can at least consider it."

"We really should," she says, again so full of tenderness. "You should see your family if we're all going to be in Florida at the same time anyway. It'll take the pressure off. And we can start moving forward."

Overwhelmed, I press my lips to hers and draw her closer. "Let's sleep on it. We still have to decide exactly how to tell Charlie, and I just want to be close to you now."

"All right," she says, squeezing me tight. "This helped, though, right? Dinner and talking it out?"

"Yeah, it helped. I just need to think longer on the whens and hows of reintroducing ourselves to my family."

"That's understandable." She kisses my chin, then my neck. I feel a jolt of desire wash through me as she breathes out slowly, then runs her nose along my skin, inhaling.

"Bedtime?" I whisper. She nods.

The night is fully dark now, and the storm is rolling this way, the lightning drawing closer. I hear the faint rumble of thunder and feel the wind change, growing thicker and heavier. We're in for a good one tonight, but like always, I know we'll be sheltered and safe inside. We'll weather the storm together.

And tomorrow, in the light of a new day, we'll deal with what we must.

-o-0-o-


Quick A/N: Please be kind with reviews. A series of craptastically mean anon reviews came my way when I posted the first part of this epilogue in 2018. I deleted them, but it knocked everything loose in me that was already unhappy with certain parts of this story and I couldn't get over that easily at the time.

If you have constructive criticism, or want to discuss nicely the ways this story could have gone and didn't, I welcome it. If you want to do a spin-off, maybe write what would have happened if they stayed in Forks, or whatever else you didn't like, go for it-I'll read it if you message me! I'm letting this one go. But, if you're just going to be cruel, go bark up someone else's tree. I am not hearing you anymore.

Much Love, Ginnie

PS: I'm actively completing What Drives Her at this time. There will be 3 rewritten chapters posting soon, with new chapters to come mid to late April. I'm sending them to Katmom today, so wish me luck!