A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. Hitting the 'Complete' button on this one. :)

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine as are all mistakes.

Epilogue – Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Late June, Two Years Later:

"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you."

I sing the age-old song in a sultry voice, fully aware my talents do not bend toward the musical. However, I'm hoping the trajectory of the trail of kisses I'm leaving – from Edward's sleepy-soft mouth to his wonderfully-scratchy jawline to his still-firm chest and abs – is enough of an incentive for him to keep shut regarding my inability to hold a tune.

"Mmm…ohhh…"

I'd say my strategy is working.

"Happy Birthday, dear Edward…"

I pause at the trail of happiness just under his belly button, alternating darts of my tongue with back and forth brushstrokes of my lips.

"Bella, babe," he breathes, "please stop teasing."

I chuckle huskily, enjoying the way his skin prickles with my breath. The morning sun streams in through our windows, highlighting the golden hairs around his bellybutton like soft little wisps of silk.

"I'm not teasing; I'm exploring." My index finger traces his bellybutton. "Haven't you heard that good things come to those who wait? Hey, did you know that-"

He sits up and slides his arms under my arms so swiftly that I shriek as he lifts me to my knees in front of him.

"Little tease," he grins.

"Hey, I was getting there. Man, turning fifty makes you impatient."

He throws back his head and chuckles heartily. Meanwhile, I kneel there and give silent thanks for him – for his health, for his vibrancy, and when he meets my eyes with green ones that are as young as when we first met, I give thanks for the fact that he held true to his search for real love…his search for me.

Edward leans in so that his mouth hovers just above mine as he reaches for the hem of my nightshirt – one of his old tee shirts – and slips it off.

"Bella," he murmurs, smiling softly, "I'm well aware that good things come to those who wait – great things, in fact."

He pulls me in, and for a few, wonderful moments, we kneel together on our bed and just…kiss with that quivery anxiousness usually reserved for two teenagers about to make love to one another for the first time. That is until he makes me shriek yet again when he throws himself back against the mattress and pulls me down with one arm. With the other, he pulls off his boxers. Then, he folds both arms behind his head and offers me a lascivious grin.

"You may now continue where you left off."

"Oh, pretty please, may I?" I clasp my hands together in mock supplication, openly gazing at him because, at fifty, he's still gaze-worthy.

Nonetheless, I resume where I left off, where I know he's aching by now; poor thing, and I enjoy it all almost as much as he does – his noises, the way his hands slide through and fist my hair as he guides me, the obscenities mixed in with the exclamations of reverent devotion. And when I sit up and slide over his body, taking him inside mine, he releases a long series of uneven sighs.

"I love you, Bella. Always."

I rock languidly over him, and I cover his body with mine, kissing him with the devotion of a worshiper.

"I love you so, so much, Edward Masen. Always. Happy Birthday, my love."

OOOOOOOOOO

It's my husband's fiftieth birthday, a monumental day to be sure, but we're no longer twelve-year-olds, for whom the world dedicates its rotation on that one, special day a year. We're parents, grandparents, business owners, and entrepreneurs. Mid-life has brought us new and exciting adventures and opportunities of which we could've never dreamed in our teen years, in our twenties, or even in our thirties. As Edward likes to say, 'A new phase of our lives begins every day,' and as my ex-sister-in-law but still best friend likes to say in response, 'Wise, hot man, that husband of yours.'

I say they're both correct.

So, as much as part of me would love to spend Edward's entire birthday celebrating in bed – because fifty or not, that man can still go like no one's business – we have a busy day ahead of us.

Edward, Jasper, and Anthony are visiting a couple of warehouses today as part of our prep for our latest venture: an organic skin care line made from wholly natural, biodegradable ingredients. We plan to add this line to our Masen Craft Company's various existing lines.

Yes, the company was a success; so much so in fact that we've had to expand into warehouses – something I initially resisted. However, we're still trying to keep things at a manageable scale. We've expanded into other states on the West Coast, with exploratory prep underway for the Mid-States and East Coast expansion. Anthony has also begun research into possible international expansion one day in the future.

We've had offers as well, from much larger companies wanting to buy us out while they can still afford to. We've told them to fuck off – in nice terms, obviously – because we love what we do too much to consider selling. Nevertheless, who knows what the future holds? As a wise, hot man I know often says, 'A new phase of our lives begins every day.'

So, while Edward, Jasper, and Anthony take care of that business this morning, Alice, Nessie, the kids, and me drive into L.A. Alice and Nessie are attending one of those tedious meetings which come with running a company, while I attend a taping at the studio for Mina's and my culinary show – Craft Wars. Sammy in the meantime will be with her Grandmah Sadie – that sweet yet smart-mouthed lady – for a few hours, and my precious, tiny, little man, Tony will be…spending a few hours with his biological, paternal grandmother.

So, here's the thing: You can't start a batch over. Once that batch is burned, it's burned. But…you can always begin again. It's my philosophy, the cornerstone of my belief system. So, how can I in all fairness begrudge Tanya a new batch, when we've all been given a second chance to start over in this life – in some cases, more than a second chance?

I was given a second, and then a third and magnificent chance at love. Edward was given a second chance. I've given my children and my children have given me second chances. Life gave Jasper and Alice a second chance to fully appreciate and embrace every day without taking too much for granted.

A bit over a year ago, Tanya was the losing attorney on a case which was not only the biggest of her career, but it was in defense of the most prominent client her firm had ever represented. Afterward, her father slash head partner, Robert Dennis, being the sympathetic soul that he is, asked his daughter to take "a break" from the firm.

Talk about a burned batch. Yet, sometimes, a burned batch leads to a new and better batch. Will that be the case with Tanya? Only time will tell. Right now, from what I see and hear, she's still bemoaning the unfairness of life.

So yes, sometimes the sight of her still makes me want to scream. She still says things and does things that drive me bat shit crazy. She still tries to buy her way, by way of fancy and expensive gifts. When I see Anthony's nostrils flare or Nessie's comforting hand rest on his arm after Tanya has pulled…well, a Tanya, I want to curse her the fuck out all over again.

But, here's what may prove to be her saving grace: Tanya adores little Tony Samuel Edward Masen. It's as if all the love, care, and affection she withheld from her son once she realized he still wouldn't get her the prize which had eluded her – that final win, as she herself once called it – she's now willingly released on her grandson.

Granted, she sure as hell isn't what I envision a grandmother should be, but in her own way, she tries; I have to give her that or else I'm full of shit regarding my philosophy. Besides, Nessie and Anthony are raising Tony with good principles – the same ones with which they were raised. I have to trust in those as well.

That's not to say that the possibility that Tanya and I will one day find ourselves more than bumping heads again – hurling nasty accusations and death threats at one another – should be ruled out. Who knows? Maybe next time I'll even manage to grab a fistful of that strawberry-blond hair – hair which, by the way, I caught a glimpse of the other day, pre-salon appointment (Grays galore! Amen and Hallelujah!).

But for now…the gloves'll stay on.

OOOOOOOOOO

During what's scheduled as a ten-minute break between takes, I pull out my phone, while at the same time, warily eyeing the two contestants left on today's show. Neither one is what you'd call a gracious contestant, both currently in the middle of a Tanya-and-Bella-worthy catfight over who's cake is the best-looking, the best-tasting, and made out of the most wholesome ingredients – in other words, which one should take home the Golden Swan.

The Golden Swan – it's become the top culinary prize in these network bake-offs.

Originally, I'd agreed with Mina to a half-season of episodes. As soon as Swan Bellies became involved, ratings went through the roof. When my time as judge was up, the ratings dropped. I won't say they bottomed-out because that would be an exaggeration of the most arrogant kind, but it was enough for Mina to offer me a partnership on the L.A. based show. As I said, Masen Craft has been a success, so it was a win-win.

So, while Contestant Number One accuses Contestant Number Two of using, "shitty-ass, canned, and fucking year-old condensed milk," I text my husband.

I found the box in the closet. Thank you. I love them. But it's your birthday, not mine. :)

Trust me, seeing you in those and nothing else tonight will be all about me. ;)

LOL. You haven't given me a pair of RBs since the morning Tony was born. I thought you'd learned your lesson.

What can I say? I'm hard-headed.

He shoots that off to me, but hard on the heels of it, I see the three little circles indicating he's typing another message, so I move my thumbs all the quicker, trying to beat him to it.

Don't you dare say something about your OTHER hard head, Edward!

Bella, you know me too well. ;)

I chuckle as I steal a glance at the contestants. Contestant Number Two is now all up in Contestant Number One's face.

"Trust me; if I had a can of condensed milk hidden here somewhere, I'd be shoving it up your-"

Anyway, the only comments I've gotten on the RBs so far have been compliments. Hopefully, the curse is broken.

I don't know that I would've called the last pair cursed, love. All turned out perfectly well.

You're right, as usual.

"And look at those shitty, lopsided layers! Isabella Masen will never award The Golden Swan to a cake that's so fucking lopsided! She's a perfectionist!"

Gotta go soon, Edward, but how's your birthday going, my love?

It's a day like any other – by which I mean great, so I sure as hell won't complain. By the way, I can't stop thinking of this morning's bj. :)

LOL. You get bjs from me quite often. What was so special about this one?

This was a birthday bj, Bella. By definition, birthday bjs are special. Look it up in the dictionary.

A piece of cake lands on the dais, right between Mina and me. We eye one another for a moment.

You're so, so bad, Edward. Really gotta go now. Don't forget we're all meeting by the Pier this afternoon. Love you.

I keep telling you: Got no one but yourself to blame. And of course, I won't forget. Love you too.

By the time I look up again, the fighting contestants have been led away for some reminders on what it means to be gracious contestants.

Next to me, Mina chuckles and then sighs.

"Bella, I'm thinking we should reschedule the taping, maybe even-" Her eyes stray behind me. "Hey, your husband – and the rest of your family – is here."

I turn and follow the trajectory of her lusty gaze, and I see she's right. Edward stands behind the cameras with Tony in his arms. Nessie and Anthony stand next to him. When they see I've spotted them, they all grin broadly, and Edward leans into Tony, our grandson. He's the spitting image of his father and grandfather; though, his eyes and hair lean more toward his granddad's shades – his maternal granddad, Sam.

I chuckle quietly to myself as my ex-father-in-law's exuberant, triumphant cries on the day he met his great-grandson resound in my head.

'It's those Laurent genes!'

"Wave 'hi' to Nanny, Tony," I hear Edward instruct.

My little Tony's hand shoots up, and he waves, exuberantly bouncing in his grandfather's arms.

"Hi, Nanny! Hi! It's me, Nanny! It's Tony! Hi!"

Everyone around him laughs, the way grown-ups tend to whenever two to three words together come out of a toddler's mouth.

As for me, my heart contracts and expands so hard every time I'm in his presence. Tony Masen is a flesh-and-blood representation of everyone I've ever loved, so how could he not affect me so? Maybe someday, I'll be able to look at him without feeling as if I might implode or explode with overwhelming joy and pride and…so much more. When I see Edward kiss Tony's temple, I get the feeling he feels the same.

"Hi, my little love," I chuckle, waving back with equal fervor. "Nanny'll be right there, okay?"

Tony claps as if I just told him the Easter bunny is on its way. "Yay, Nanny!"

Meanwhile, I muse quietly to myself. "I wonder what they're doing here? We were supposed to meet by the pier back home."

"Your husband's eyes sparkle when he looks at you," Mina sighs, breaking me out of my meditation.

"Today's his fiftieth birthday, and we have a celebration planned," I reply, ignoring the fact that she's checking out Edward so closely that she sees his sparkling eyes.

"Fifty?"

I hear the shocked surprise in her voice and sweep my eyes to her.

"Daaamn." She shoots me a slightly abashed smile, but then she chuckles. "I'm sorry, but I know you're not blind, Bella; your creative artistry is way too detailed for you to be blind to how fucking…" she steals another glance at Edward, "hot your husband is – fifty-years-old or not."

Before I manage an opportunity to open my mouth and tell her to turn those late-twenties oglers elsewhere, please and thank you, she continues.

"But then again, what are you, Bella – thirty-seven, thirty-eight, right? Yet, I wouldn't put you at a day past thirty-five, so I can see why he's so into you."

"I'm actually forty-seven, Mina," I say with a smug smile.

"Holy shit. Really?" Her head reels back, black curls dancing around her beautiful, caramel face. "Damn, girl, you look good too."

"Thanks, Mina. And yes, he is good-looking, and I suppose, three decades ago when I first met him, his looks were the first thing that attracted me to him. But he's become so much more than good looks."

She's reflective for a few moments. "Then you're one of the few, truly lucky ones out there."

"Yeah," I breathe. "Yeah, I totally am."

"You know what? Go home, Bella, and we'll figure out this clusterfuck tomorrow. Don't keep that hot-ass husband…and the rest of that sweet family of yours, waiting." She grins broadly.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," I grin in return.

When Edward sees me approaching, he sets Tony down, and my grandson takes off at a sprint on his short, little legs.

"Nanny!" he yells the entire way. Then, he's in my arms, and I crush him oh so carefully to me before he squirms and pulls away, making me chuckle. His stubbly little hands cradle my face.

"Nanny, it's Pop-pop's boatday!"

I chuckle heartily and kiss his forehead. "It is Pop-pop's birthday."

Edward reaches us and encircles us both in his arms. I whisper furtively in his ear.

"I sure hope you weren't texting me about bjs with Tony in your arms."

He snickers quietly. "Ness was holding him."

I pull back and shoot him a smirk, but then a pleased smile replaces it. "What are you guys doing here? I thought we were all meeting at the pier?"

"We finished early," Anthony says, "so we figured we'd come pick you guys up. Uncle Jasper met up with Aunt Alice and Sammy, and the three decided to spend some time with Sadie, so…it's just the five of us."

The five of us has become a lovely number.

"Sammy went bye-bye." Tony frowns. He absolutely adores his four-year-old cousin.

"Aww, baby; you'll see her tonight," I promise.

"For Pop-pop's boatday?"

"Yes, sweetheart. For Pop-pop's birthday."

Anthony chuckles guiltily and clears his throat. "So, Mom, Ness and I wanted to take you and Pop out for lunch, here in L.A."

"But…aren't we taking Dad out to dinner at the pier?" I shoot Anthony a look. We've got plans.

"We can do both, can't we?" Ness says with a funny grin.

Anthony slips an arm around his dad's shoulder and the other arm around my shoulder.

"We'd really like to take you guys out to lunch," he says.

I eye him speculatively. "O-kay."

OOOOOOOOOO

Sometimes, good things also come to those who don't wait too long.

A bit over a couple of hours later, we're in Edward's car on our way back to Newport Beach, tummies full, and hearts soaring, and in the middle of conversation related to the topic at hand.

"It's unfair," Edward says.

"It really is," Anthony agrees. "Men should be able to give birth too."

I turn around and look at Ness, who's seated directly behind me, with Tony at her side in his car seat, and Anthony behind Edward. She rolls her eyes, and I laugh before turning back around.

"Ness and I think you're both full of crap. Neither one of you would ever want to give birth."

Anthony bursts out laughing. "You're totally right, Mom. We wouldn't."

My phone vibrates, and when I open the text from Alice, she's sent me a picture of an L.A. fire company truck. The caption reads, 'Looksy what I found in L.A.. ;) '

I snicker and set the picture away for later. "Alice and her firemen fetish."

"Alice and her firemen fetish, huh?" Edward grins.

He reaches across the console and weaves his fingers through mine. All the while, his eyes remain on the road because we've got the most precious cargo in the world in the back seat – all three…soon to be four of them. We also have one of those signs on our bumper: Precious Cargo. Tony has a car seat dedicated to this car and to mine because he's with us pretty often.

"I suppose we'll have to pull out the infant car seat again," I say, smiling happily at the windshield.

"No, no, no," Edward chuckles. "Don't try to change the subject."

"Hah!" I snort. "Blame your grandson's eagerness to arrive two weeks early. He left Alice and me no choice!"

Edward shakes his head, his lips twitching. "One of these days, I might have to rent one of those firemen costumes," he teases.

I angle myself to face him. "Oh my God, please do – hat and all. And make sure it has the suspenders – the suspenders are extremely important. But don't wear a shirt under the suspenders."

"Anything else, Mrs. Masen?" He keeps his eyes on the traffic, but I can tell he's suppressing his laughter.

"Yes. Don't forget the hose."

"Oh, don't worry about that," he says under his breath. "I'll have my own, built-in hose with me, ready to go."

"Uh, you guys know we can hear you back here," Anthony says.

"Oh my God; cover that baby's ears!" I shriek.

"Or maybe just stop talking about Pop's hose?" Nessie suggests.

"Pop-pop got big hose for boatday!" Tony yells, stretching his tiny arms out wide.

I drop my head and cover my face while Anthony and Ness's roaring laughter fills the car.

OOOOOOOOOO

"May I confess something kind of crazy?"

"Always," Edward grins.

"Does that mean I can always confess myself to you or does it mean I'm always pulling something crazy?"

Edward chuckles.

We're strolling down the pier arm in arm with Ness and Anthony ahead of us, chasing after Tony. The sun is setting, and the businesses and storefronts are just beginning to turn on their lights.

"It means I…"

When Anthony takes Tony's little hand and helps him run up the plank leading onto one of the boats lining the harbor, Edward frowns.

"What's he doing?" he murmurs, pursing his lips in disapproval. "He can't just let Tony wander onto someone's boat like that." His frown deepens when both Anthony and Nessie board the boat.

Edward sucks his teeth. "These kids. You can't just board someone's boat like that." He takes off at a brisk pace, respectfully remaining on the other side of the small gangway.

"Anthony?" he calls sternly.

As I stand there, I picture Edward the way he would've looked two decades earlier: his hair still all a dark shade of copper, his face still too young to be lined by either good times or bad ones, and standing as tall and erect as he still does – while using that same stern tone. I chuckle to myself.

"Anthony and Vanessa, what's going on? Why are you both-"

By this point, I've managed to teeter-totter my way to Edward on my stilettoes – a feat which feels more complex than it has in the past. I may actually have to give the RBs a rest for a while – darn Sadie.

I pull on Edward's arm, and when he sweeps his eyes to me, and I see all the innocent bewilderment reflected in them, I want to break out into laughter or happy tears – but it won't be the tears because we all know what happens when I let loose those waterworks.

He rakes a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "Bella, they can't just…"

"You didn't let me finish my confession," I grin.

"But…" his eyes stray back to the boat, where Ness and Anthony have now reappeared. They hold Tony between them, one of his tiny hands in each of theirs. All three grin at their father and grandfather.

Edward looks at me again. It takes a handful of these back and forth sweeps of his eyes before they widen.

"Holy hell," he breathes. And now I do laugh. "No, Bella," he says, shaking his head, his tone one of those that really mean, "Yeah, Bella."

"Happy Boatday for Pop-pop!" Tony calls out.

"Happy Boat…Bella?" Edward says.

"Now, there are ground-rules, Edward," I say in the same stern tone he used on the kids a couple of minutes earlier. "Firstly, we own this with Jasper and Alice, and with Anthony and Nessie."

"Okay," he smiles, his voice quivering with excitement as he takes a step toward me. It won't hit me until hours later how his first instinct is to step toward me, not toward his brand new boat.

I raise a palm between us, halting him.

"Wait! There's more. Don't think this means we're going to turn into one of those pretentious, semi-retired, yacht-owning, old-fart couples who wear matching sailor shirts and neckties while arguing in phony, British accents."

"I've heard that somewhere before," he chuckles, taking another step forward, but my raised palm bounces between us.

"And if the weather starts getting rough, and the ship gets tossed, and we end up on an uncharted desert isle, you'd better not start building a bunch of crap out of coconuts."

"I won't," he chuckles heartily. "May I hug and kiss the hell out of you now?"

I keep my palm up. "And I refuse to be First Mate, Edward. I'll be your co-Captain but not your first mate. And it's not one of those forty-five million dollar yachts, but we researched and researched and-"

At this point, Edward closes all distance between us, cutting me off by crushing his mouth to mine and enveloping me in his arms.

"Bella…" he breathes against my mouth, chuckling, "my God, Bella. I don't deserve this."

"Hey, if I deserve these shoes, then you deserve this-"

"I don't mean the boat." He pulls back and holds my gaze through emerald eyes I've loved for three decades now. Emerald eyes I'll always love.

"I mean you, Bella." He cradles my cheek in one hand. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

No; none of us get do-overs in life, but we get to begin again.

"You learned from the mistakes of our youth, and you held on to our love. You raised our son into a wonderful man. You were ready to begin again when we met again, yet you never asked me to let go of Sam's memory. When you found out about the first Anthony, you hurt as much as I did. You loved my daughter as unconditionally as I do. All of it…" I say, my voice breaking, "all of it has made it possible for us to be grandparents to a little boy who embodies everyone we've ever loved, and to begin a new phase of our lives together, every day. So…I'd say you deserve it," I shrug.

He laughs, his dark eyes glassy as he nudges my hair behind my ear. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes," he chuckles. "Okay."

"Boy, you accepted that real easy."

"I've never been as averse to birthday gifts as have you."

I smirk at him. "So…you want to check out the boat?"

"Oh, yeah," he says, turning us around and helping me up the ramp. "But would you mind calling it a small yacht instead of a boat?"

"Fine. Whatever."

"And if it's not too much trouble, would you mind taking off those shoes before you board? I don't want you damaging the wood floors with those heels."

I turn and glare at him. "You mean the heels you just gave me?"

He nods. With a sigh, I remove the now offensive stilettoes.

"And regarding the matching sailor shirts, maybe if they're tasteful-"

"Edward, I swear to God, I will return this here boat before you can say 'All Aboard'."

"Okay, okay," he chuckles, pulling me into his arms. "Hey. I love you - always."

"Love you too, Edward – always."

THE END…

Wait!

Until Five Years Later…

Post-Epilogue: Christmas

"Hey, Tony? Jax? What's going on up there? Mom and Nanny are waiting for those decorations!"

No answer.

I look at Ara, my two-year-old granddaughter, safely ensconced in my arms as usual. She blinks those big, brown eyes at me, and I melt, also as per usual because Ara – short for Arabella – is the spitting image of her grandmother – her maternal yet somehow also paternal grandmother; my wife, Bella.

"What do you say, Ara? Should we go up there and see what your brothers are up to?"

She blinks and nods, pointing her little finger up the staircase.

We take the steps two at a time, and by the time I reach the top one, I'm cursing myself silently.

"Tell you, what? Pop-pop needs to stop doing that. But don't tell Nanny," I whisper to Ara.

She giggles.

We round the hallway into Bella's office, and when I push the door open, I find both my grandson's – Tony, who's seven now and looks more and more like Anthony and me every day; and Jax, who's five-years-old and the spitting image of his maternal granddad – both seated on the floor, pouring through Bella's picture albums. They've got a medley of loose pictures all around their perimeter.

"Boys in twouble," Ara giggles.

"Oh yeah," I agree. "What are you two up to? Nanny and Mom sent you guys up here hours ago for the extra box of tree decorations."

Jax looks up first, green eyes sparkling. Strange how nature works. Tony's features resemble the Masen line, but he's got Laurent hair and eyes. Jaxon, on the other hand, has Laurent features but Masen eyes and hair.

In my head, I hear the always-exuberant voice of my wife's ex-father-in-law, now in the great beyond with his beloved son:

'It's those Viking genes!'

I chuckle to myself.

Now, both boys, however, are tall and well-built, while Ara is petite and delicate, and all Bella, as I said; so when Ara gets going, she gets going.

"Pop!" Jax says excitedly. "Look at all this cool stuff we found!"

Tony looks up with matching exhuberance. "There are these weird-feeling pieces of paper of Mom when she was little, and of Nanny with Grandpop Sam! Like the images Nan keeps on her pod!"

I chuckle softly. "Yep. It's called picture paper, and it's how we printed out pictures before."

"It's so stiff and shiny," Tony says, turning one around in his hand in wonder.

"It is. Now, come on. You can bring some of those down with you, but pick up the rest and put them away how you found them. Nanny'll kick your little butts if she sees this mess."

"Alright, Pop."

"Sure, Pop."

They make a messy attempt at clean-up, and I know Bella's going to have a ball cleaning this up later. Once both boys have sprinted past me, I chuckle and make my way further into the room, checking to see they didn't leave anything on the floor. As I'm about to turn around and walk out, something under the coffee table catches my eye.

I bend down, Ara still in my arms, and mortifyingly making one of those old man groans as I go.

"Okay, Pop-pop?" Ara asks, her tiny palm on my cheek.

"Pop-pop might have to listen to Nanny and visit a chiropractor soon."

"Okay."

I'm chuckling as I pull the forgotten album out from under the coffee table.

PARIS

It's an album from Bella's time living in Paris. I flip through it gingerly, smiling at the pictures of my wife in college with Alice…of her with Sam. It's a strange feeling that course through me – not jealousy, no. More like wistfulness.

"That's your grandpop Sam," I tell Ara.

"Grandpop Sam," she repeats.

"Yeah."

"Hey, Dad!" Anthony calls from downstairs. "Mom really wants those decorations now! She's threatening your boat if you don't come down soon!" I hear my son's roaring laughter.

"Coming!"

I chuckle again, and with a sigh, I start to straighten, already groaning at the expectation of an ache in my back. When something falls out of the album – an eight by ten piece of paper which floats to my feet – I reach for it all the while grateful I haven't stood just yet. Then…all my breath leaves me.

"Edward, babe, what's taking…what do you have there?"

Despite her impatience, Bella's voice holds more than a hint of a smile in it. It's the holidays. We've got all our family here – our kids, grandkids, Alice and Jasper and Sammy. Our professional lives are doing well too, yes, but…it's this…this is what brings her joy. And when she's full of joy, I'm overjoyed. We found one another at a time in our lives when we both thought the best years were behind us. Man, were we ever mistaken.

I smile softly, my eyes stinging as I gaze down at the grainy, black and white image now almost four decades old. It's somewhat faded by time, by older technology, but the basics…the basics are there.

Life works in mysterious ways, indeed.

Without looking away from the ultrasound image, I reach a hand back for her, sighing when I feel her fingers weave through mine.

"Bella, love, come and take a look at what the kids found."

AND NOW…THE END.

A/N: Thoughts?

Hope you guys enjoyed this. What did I originally say? Ten chapters. Pfft. Don't listen to me when I give chapter estimates. I'm usually full of shit. ;)

What's next? Finishing Uprising. I haven't abandoned it, but RL got crazy for a bit. I'll get back to it, and I'll give you all a heads up when I do. :)

So, I just wanted to add that the song which kept going through my head as I wrote this little romp back into these guys' lives was:

100 Years, by Five for Fighting.

It's pretty amazing, and very fitting, I think.

"See" you all soon!

Patty