When We Met

Epilogue/Alternate Telling Edward's POV

Quick Note:

Italics are him talking to her and his thoughts.

Standard font is him reading his letter to her.

*&^%$#

Bella,

I read the letter, really poem, you left for me. The second one in our time together. To know how you felt, to feel what you shared. I'm compelled to do the same now as you take your last breaths.

You're in and out now, the morphine making you drowsy but helping you relax. The nurse said it could be days or hours. But I won't be leaving this chair.

I just needed you to know, how I felt in the beginning, through it all and at the end—or as I'd rather think, the next beginning.

"You're not getting the last word this time my dear." I whisper in your ear and I see you smile sleepily as you squeeze my hand and I start in…

When we met…

I was standing at the bar with my friends, a cliché bachelor party in Vegas. They talked me in to going, though I didn't see many of them much anymore. But I was planning to stay out West and do some hiking, do some other things, and see some friends in Portland and San Fran.

We weren't dancing. We were just watching the different groups that would come in.

When it happened.

When you happened.

It wasn't like kismet or the parting seas or anything like that.

But I definitely noticed you and turned to my friend and said, "Goddamn."

You walked back by us and grabbed your drinks. You and your friends were talking and laughing. But I could tell even from a distance you were fun, and charismatic. Not over the top like a college co-ed, just loving life and being out with your friends.

When my friend finally came to talk to you, I knew that was my entrance, though I initially hung back.

But not you, because that's not how you were or ever have been.

You immediately teased me about my wolf shirt, and I liked that you got the cheeky connection. That I was being funny and dressing like Zach Galiafinakis.*

Then you called me "Wolfman" and I laughed. I loved your boldness and how much fun you were having.

We started talking and I could tell you were older, but not that much, not like a May to December type thing. You were confident and smart, witty and sexy as hell. Every guy in that place was looking at those lips of yours and those legs.

Yet, I was talking to you and I felt pretty kickass.

When you told me about your family and your job, you didn't care. You weren't out looking for something; you were just out with your friends. I think you felt I was approachable and safe and maybe attractive as well.

Then I found out you liked to hike and run and you were into yoga too. For a fleeting second I wondered, "what if."

My friends wanted to leave and I was disappointed that I had to go with them. But I gave you a kiss on the cheek. Maybe I wanted you to remember me then.

*&^%$#

"Wow." My friend muttered as we left the bar and caught a cab.

"I know," I sighed as I sat back.

"How old do you think they were?" He asked and I shook my head.

Most of us were late twenties, early thirties, some starting to settle down, some not.

"I don't know. Thirty-five maybe?" I suspected.

Not that much older than us.

To me a bit enticing; you were experienced women, fun, confident, and sure of yourselves.

I'd been feeling that pull for some reason in the last year as well. I had young parents, a great family and I was starting to be ready for that. Sure I loved to travel and I was always up for an adventure.

But with the right girl. Wouldn't that be one of the factors?

"Well I scored the one's number. So maybe we can meet up with them again."

My eyebrows shot up at that and I turned my head. "Oh yeah."

"What? You interested." He ribbed me and I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest.

"The one with the legs." He said, but that made me mad.

"Bella." I stated.

"Bella huh? Oh I see how it is." He elbowed me and then left me alone until we got out of the cab.

*&^%$#

The next night my friend sought out your friend. He was into her, so I knew I'd probably see you again.

I'd heard you all giggling about my hair the night before so I'd left it down and taken time to groom my beard.

When I joined you I remember thinking, there's no way she can look better than she did.

But you did.

Damn you did.

It was more subtle that night, a cotton dress with an open back. But it showed every single curve that you had.

I noticed. It was spectacular.

But you were even more talkative and outgoing and giggly than the night before. Then you told me you'd had an edible and couldn't stop laughing.

I didn't take you for the type, but it was Vegas, it was legal, so who cares.

I'd been smoking since I was a teenager and did edibles as well. So I loved watching your reactions, and how it affected your manners.

If anything it made you more charming, even more open than you had been.

And that laugh, your laugh, the way you tossed your head back. It was the thing I remembered most from our chats.

I've never talked with someone that I didn't know, as much as I did with you then.

We separated for a while, then you all joined us at the club to dance.

And damn could you dance. The way you moved—natural and free—drove me crazy, as well as every other man on hand. I had never seen someone so happy, so in their element as you were then.

When the club started to wind down, we went back downstairs.

That was the thing that was so interesting about you, you could be the girl in the club, or just relaxed and talking on a bench.

We talked and my mind started to wander and wonder. What were we doing there? Were you willing to do something? I wasn't sure. So I asked.

You smiled and said no, that you were flattered, but you couldn't do that.

Strangely, I wasn't disappointed because I respected you for it.

But I told you I still wanted to walk you home. I think I just wanted more time in your presence.

When we walked home, the City was quiet for the few hours that it would be until the next day's affairs. It was uncomplicated, easy, like breathing in the air.

But I knew I probably wasn't ever going to see you again when we got to your hotel. So I asked for a kiss, because those lips, those lips, I just wanted one taste of them.

You contemplated it, until you brushed my lips sweetly, and smiled and turned away.

*&^%$#

The walk back to my hotel was oddly quiet for Las Vegas.

I thought of you the entire time and laughed at your text.

When I asked for a picture, I didn't want anything scandalous or bare.

Well maybe I did, I am a man after all, but I knew you wouldn't send it.

And it was perfect, it was you with no makeup, a small smile, just lying in bed.

During the days ahead it was that picture that I would pull out when I would think about "what if."

*&^%$#

I started off on the rest of my trip the next morning. Vegas had been fun, way better than I expected. But the outdoors was my playground, I couldn't wait to get at it.

Zion was amazing and Moab even better. But when I ventured up to Portland I thought of you again. You said you'd never been, but wanted to go, to see the Gorge, to go biking and backpacking. You wanted to run the amazing trails and go to the breweries and vineyards.

I thought of you as I watched the water rush through the ravine, and listened to the birds chirping around me. What were you doing right then?

Probably working at your job as a Vice President at the bank. You were the real deal, the real American dream kind of thing.

But I'd sensed in you an adventurous streak. You'd done what you were supposed to do, but you yearned to break out as well. You liked to travel and try new things. You'd told me you would have killed to go on this trip with me if you could have.

It couldn't happen, I knew that. You had a life and it was very different from the one that I led.

So I put it away in its own little compartment in my brain. And throughout the rest of my trip I'd only delve into it when something reminded me of the night we met.

*&^%$#

I was surprised how often I thought of you after that. I didn't overanalyze it, but when I would be out on the water in the early morning hours, or hiking a peak, or taking a yoga class, you would pop into my head.

I wasn't a monk, but I wasn't a playboy either. And I found myself comparing other women to you when I'd go out with them.

They were often too young, or too eager to settle down, or too immature, or not funny enough, or we didn't share any interests. They surely didn't have your legs, or your lips or your laugh.

One night, at the end of the season, the October after we met. I was out for a boat ride, just taking in the sunset.

I pulled up near a dock in a quiet part of the bay on the inside of the island. There was a boat for sale. It was an old boat and it had seen better days.

But I wanted it.

I couldn't never put a finger on why, until you walked back into my life later. But I wanted that boat, bad. I wanted to restore it and bring it back to its original greatness.

So I spent the winter, cleaning it and fixing it. I replaced the engine and the controls, bringing it up to date in those ways as well.

But I made it sleeker and more comfortable. I made it stunning again.

As I worked on it, I thought of you. That you were a lot like that boat in a way. Because it was older, but it was in great shape, it was fast and fun and the engine hummed when I hit it. It was beautiful on the outside but comfortable yet strong on the inside.

It took me all winter and spring and into mid-summer to complete it. And on the day I finished, I decided to name it.

I'd compartmentalized those hours we'd shared, but they clearly had an impact. So knowing the meaning of your name, I thought it was fitting and perfect. An elegant reminder of the elegant but fun person that I'd met.

I wasn't sure why I was still so drawn to you. It wasn't like we'd slept together or even really kissed.

Though I'd thought about that many times as well. What I would have done had that happened.

But you were taken.

You were unattainable and I would never go after you like that.

So I resigned myself to think: in another life perhaps?

Instead the boat would be you. You'd be there in my life in some way, yet I could move on with the rest.

So I finished painting your name on the side. Then I went home to get cleaned up and head out to dinner with my friends.

*&^%$#

I believe in signs, in other lives and reincarnation. We'd talked about that when we met, that neither of us was religious, but spiritual. We both thought there was some greater hand. That there was a reason people had instant and strong connections.

Which was why I was mystified that it was that day when you walked into my life again.

I'd been having dinner with Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper at one of our favorite pubs in Southold. We were heading to another place and I needed to use the restroom before I left.

I was walking to the back, thinking about our conversation. Rosalie had a friend that she wanted me to meet. I'd said okay, but I wasn't sure I was that interested.

You were sitting in a booth, drinking a beer and writing something by hand.

I looked at you and at first I thought my mind had to be playing tricks on me. That you were just on my mind from the boat I'd just finished.

It couldn't be you. So I kept going.

But then you looked up and our eyes met. You smiled and I did the same.

But I kept walking, thinking I was just crazy and you were somehow out of the compartment I'd put you in.

Then my steps faltered and I looked back, because I knew. I wasn't crazy and I shook my head.

You were there.

I quickly used the restroom as my mind went on a tangent.

What were you doing there?

Why were you alone?

Where was your family?

Where were your friends?

Then I was concerned that maybe you had come to find me. That I'd somehow turned your life upside down.

No Cullen, I'd scolded myself, give her more credit than that.

I slowly walked back to the booth, trying to think of what to say. But the only thing that came out was your name.

You'd looked up and smiled and said hello.

But something was different. You were still you, so beautiful, but so thin and sad.

When we'd met you were already thin, but strong and muscular still.

I sat down across from you, unsure how to broach the topic at hand. I was shaking, so I crossed my arms over my chest.

We exchanged pleasantries, looking at one another, until I had to ask.

"Are you on vacation?"

"Yeah." You said quietly, but there was something different about it. "Sort of."

"With your family?" I inquired.

It was then that I glanced at your left hand.

Your ring was gone.

I noticed. I noticed because I had stared at it over and over on the night we met.

You closed your eyes and drew a breath and I instantly knew something terrible had happened.

So I asked.

When you said they were gone, a pit formed in my stomach and I squeezed my hands. I wanted to touch you, I wanted to hug you, because even though our meeting was brief, I knew the kind of person you had been. You were vibrant and uninhibited. I was sure you were a good mother, a good wife and friend. And nothing like that should happen to anyone, but especially you and your family.

When the tear rolled down your cheek I couldn't keep away any longer. I wiped it away and something bloomed in my chest.

I was torn, because I couldn't imagine what you had been through.

Yet you were there.

So I went with common ground instead.

You were traveling, you took time off, I suspected to find yourself again.

But did you come to find me too? I hoped so. I wanted that to be the case.

I wasn't sure if you even knew at that point. Looking back, I don't think you really did.

Instead, I started slow. I wanted to see you, to do something with you and get to know you better. To earn your trust, and to make you laugh and smile again.

I asked you to come to yoga and you accepted.

My friends were waiting, so I had to leave. But then I looked back, giving you a small wave, before I made my exit. But it was with a flicker of hope because I knew I would be seeing you again.

*&^%$#

Patience.

I knew it was something that would help me in the days ahead. You see, I had always let life come to me. I was never in a hurry, I just didn't want to be. So patience came naturally for me unlike you and most of my friends.

But it was the hardest it had ever been for me then.

The floodgate of emotions, of knowing that there was maybe a chance, nearly knocked me off my feet the night you walked in.

I'd gone to the next bar with my friends, but I couldn't focus on a thing.

"Who was that?" They'd pestered me.

"Just a friend." I'd said.

Rosalie's friend was nice enough, but I couldn't even look at her after I'd seen you again.

So I left, stating I had to be up early for yoga anyhow and I drove home, past the B&B you were staying at. I put two and two together by the car in the driveway with the Illinois plates.

Then I lay in bed for hours thinking about what it all meant.

You had suffered something unimaginable, something terrible, and yet, you were there.

I couldn't push you, I knew that.

But I could finally admit that I wanted you as more than a friend.

You were no longer in a compartment, neat and tucked away.

You were at the forefront of my mind like a blinding white beacon pulling me in.

But I had to be patient. You were going to have setbacks. Somehow I knew that.

I'd start slow and make good on what I'd said. I'd be a friend. I would listen and let you lead the way because I was sure that was what you needed just then.

*&^%$#

When I saw you at yoga the next morning, I knew I made the right decision.

I could see that while surprised, you weren't too surprised that I was teaching the class.

I even tortured myself a bit, putting you in positions to make you move and bend. We did a lot of downward dogs, twists and dancers. I had to close my eyes a few times watching you in position. Those legs still enticed me, even covered in spandex, and then your ass...

Jesus your ass, I just wanted to put my hands all over it. Thin or not you still looked spectacular.

The other women in the class were regulars, but I'd never ventured in that direction. Most of them were married, or between husbands and I wanted no part of that.

I wanted you.

And I knew it when my fingers touched your thigh to help you correct a position. Though most of the time you didn't need it, you were very good in your practice. But it was the one way I could be close to you without crossing those lines in the sand.

I wasn't sure if you still had them, but I hoped you didn't.

So I asked you to breakfast, and you finally told me more about what happened.

I could feel the sadness emanating from you and I just wanted to hug you and feed you and make you smile again.

Thus I decided then and there, that's what we would start with. I would help you smile and laugh and bring out that fun-loving spirit.

*&^%$#

When you met me that night, I was strangely nervous. It was the first time we'd been truly alone together.

But you walked down the dock, all breezy sundress and bikini, and I just took you in.

Then I saw the tattoo and I had to remind myself.

Patience.

I might want you, but you were still grieving as a mother and as a widow.

Instead I focused on bringing out your smile and your laugh.

And laugh you did. You were so proud when you got up on the board for the first time. You were a natural. You were strong and balanced. You were uninhibited.

You were buoyant like the night we met.

&^%$#

We didn't kiss that night. I didn't want to press it. But the next day we went to the vineyard and all of the wine tasting and grape tasting and looking those lips.

Your lips.

They drove me crazy, they always had.

When I suggested going to the point, I have to admit I was hoping for a kiss.

But it was even better than that. I was able to finally feel you close to me, to feel you under me, to wrap my arms around you, to breathe you in.

To get my lips on those lips.

It was intoxicating.

It was the highest high I'd ever had.

*&^%$#

Then you didn't call me for two days after that.

Not even a message.

My mother was a long time therapist. She specialized in PTSD, but in her years she'd seen everything. The two of us were close, always had been.

Coincidentally, I had stopped at my parent's house the morning after our date. She knew the second I walked in that something was up because of grin on my face.

But when I told her about you, she sat me down and explained what you might be going through and to be careful with how I acted.

Not just grief, but you were the only one left. Survivor's guilt, depression, you likely had a mix of all of it.

And she told me what I knew already.

Patience. To let you take the lead.

So I did.

I could have been upset when you didn't message me, but I wasn't because I was trying hard to understand.

Then I saw you on the beach two days later, and I knew I had been right about my assessment. You were in pain, you were trying to reconcile me with your past.

After I held you on the beach, I started to figure out what you needed.

And I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to provide what you needed.

But I also let you know that I was in it.

I asked you questions, prodding you along, but also indicating where I stood as well.

Would you get married again?

Were you staying or going back?

Would this ever progress beyond a kiss?

Then you basically told me to kiss you at the orchard and I knew I was on the right track. You wanted me as much as I wanted you then.

So I took a leap and decided to show you the boat.

Your boat.

Though it might have been too soon, I think you needed to know how I felt. That I wasn't playing around or looking at you as a fling. That I respected how difficult this all was for you and I wanted to be your person, the one you leaned into.

And I'm so glad I did.

If I could pinpoint, one moment, one night that was a tipping point, it was then.

Then the next day when I showed you my house, our eventual home, everything changed.

I'd shown you my photos and led you to my bedroom. I hadn't intended it to go there, but I was sure glad it did.

When you dropped your bikini bottoms and told me to join you in the shower, I nearly lost my breath. There you were before me, bare and self-assured, like the night we met. You were back; the you I knew and have known since.

My mouth watered as I watched you walk into the bathroom. And though I paused for a moment, it took me less than a minute to strip out of my clothes and cross my bedroom to get to you.

Your passion, your openness, how you just let me in. It was almost too much to handle in the shower and in my bed. It was like I'd let a lion out of its cage that had been trapped and kept in.

I've always felt that way, through the years, that's something that's never left. I knew I'd awakened that part of you again. Maybe it's inner caveman or outdated, but I was proud of that.

Not that I think you'd mind if I said it.

Over those next days we fell into a habit. I'd wake up with you in the morning, sometimes yoga, sometimes instead we would "shower" together.

Then you'd go about your day, tooling around the island, taking in all of the sights and finds that it had. On my days off I would join you and show you around as I knew it, take you places off the tourist map.

But at night, at night it was different. Dinner often got derailed on the counter, on the table, on the floor or ended up in my bed.

Not that I minded at all.

Because I had fallen for you and there was no going back.

There was one night in particular, before the night we went dancing. When I wanted to tell you so badly how I felt.

We were out on the roof deck, the sound of the waves could be heard crashing against the sand. From that third story, we could see and hear everything, but no one else was aware. It was one of my favorite additions to the house and I know yours as well.

We were looking at the stars, sharing a bottle of wine and reminiscing.

When suddenly we were kissing and then it turned to more than that.

As it always did in those early days together.

Your body beckoned to me. From that first time and every time, God you drove me wild, you always have.

The feel of your lips on me, of your skin on my skin. The feel of you under my fingertips as I stripped away your sundress. How you would tip your head back and sigh when my lips met your neck.

I'd stripped out of my shorts and shirt and you climbed over me, straddling me as I sat on the rattan.

Then you'd wrapped your arms and legs around me as we connected.

Slowly, painfully slow, you rocked against me. But it was perfect because I could put my hands everywhere—and I did.

I gripped your hips and leaned you back. My lips sucking you, tasting you as I squeezed your hips and moved you against me until the ends of your hair hit my legs.

You enveloped me, my senses were on fire at every end. We both kept trying to prolong it, but we couldn't because it was so, so good, that we finally gave out to the need to move faster. The need to fly over the edge.

"I remember that night." You hum, that little cheeky grin on your face as your fingers rub the back of my hand.

But I continue, needing to focus on my place, because see you still do it to me even with where you're at…

I wanted to tell you that I had never felt the way about anyone that I felt about you, but I thought you weren't ready for that.

I would dream of that night later, wishing I had said it. Remembering the way you looked, the way you smelled, the way you felt.

Because I had never been more attracted to anyone before and surely not since. I wanted to touch you, I wanted to taste you, I wanted to feel you every spare moment that I had.

And I still do, I always have.

I know you always worried about being older than me, and I made light of it back then. What you never knew was what other people said—it wasn't what you thought. They didn't give it a second glance. When we went to dinner and dancing, everyone was captivated by your presence. You were you, your old self again. Effortless.

Instead, they told me how lucky I was, how beautiful you were and how wonderful we were together.

And I agreed with them on that as well. You always walked into a room and lit it up. You wouldn't notice, but eyes would follow you, and not just men but women as well. You made an impression, just as you did on the night we met.

*&^%$#

But I couldn't ignore that the time was coming, back then, when you would have to make a decision. Unfortunately, Rosalie pushed you in that direction. And as you tended to do, you reacted.

It always baffled me how quickly it went from so good to so bad.

That night after we had dinner with my friends, I was jumbled up and you were jumbled up as well. Something had shifted and neither of us could pretend. You couldn't give me answers and I was disappointed with that.

I didn't know you left, but somehow I felt it. And when I woke up in the morning I wasn't surprised to find your letter.

Edward,

I'm writing this as you're lying in bed sound asleep. For the last year, I wished I could sleep like you, peaceful and dreamless. In these last weeks, I have been closer to getting there. I know that's because of you. You've brought me back. You've made me feel alive and emboldened, desired and confident again. I haven't thought about the future in a long time, or that I even had possibilities and chances.

But you've made that happen.

Yet, I have a life in Chicago; that I need to figure out what to do with. And you have needs too. No matter what has happened to me, I don't want you to forget that. I don't know if I can get married again, I don't know if I can have kids. But I want to know those things for you, because I know that you want them.

I just need some time, to think and reflect. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, but not in a bad way. In the most magnificent way, in ways better than I could have ever imagined. I want you to do the same, to think about what you really want and need. Because if we do this, I want to be in it together. I want to put us first, not just my needs.

No matter what happens, thank you. Thank you for everything you've done. For understanding me, for bringing me back, for being you and for our time together. I'm sorry about leaving like this, but I didn't want to have some impending doom over us for the next week. And I didn't want to have a long drawn out good-bye when I feel inside that this isn't it.

Instead, I'll be thinking of you until I see you again.

Bella

"You still have it." You say suddenly. Your eyes are more open this time, not so drowsy, but looking right at me as you always have.

"I still have it."

"Lay with me."

"But the nurses—"

"I don't care. I want your arms around me when…"

I nod, swallowing and trying to make the knot that's formed in my chest go away. Though I know I can't. Instead I climb in and hold your frail body next to mine and continue to read what I've penned.

I've kept it all these years as reminder of what might not have been. Of the need to take a leap, to live in the present, to take a chance.

At first I was mad, angry that you had run away from the best thing that had ever happened. Then I called Rosalie and yelled at her.

"How could you do that? Do you have any idea what she's been through?" I said.

"Edward. I'm just trying to protect you. I've known you since we were in diapers and I want you to be happy."

"I don't care Rose, I love her. I was happy."

"Did you say that?"

Damnit.

I hated to admit it, but she was right. I'd put myself out there a lot, but I hadn't said that, even though I had been thinking it frequently by the time you left.

I knew it wasn't Rosalie's fault, she was just trying to protect me. For as tough as she could be, she was my most loyal friend. She knew what I wanted. She even knew about the boat as well, and because of that she'd questioned your appearance.

It was never that she didn't like you, which you learned later, the two of you became great friends. But she didn't want you to get hurt and she was afraid you would hurt me, even if it was unintentional.

After a couple weeks passed and I hadn't heard from you, I tried to move out of my gloom and regret.

I went to my parents for brunch one Sunday and my mother sat me down on the patio out back. My parents had been traveling so she didn't know you had left.

"What happened?"

"She went back to Chicago? She said she needs time to work it all out in her head."

"Remember what I told you. It's a lot to reconcile, to work through, and you both fell so hard and so fast."

She was right.

The fall had been instantaneous and easy, like when I'd gone bungee jumping in San Fran.

Weightless and exhilarating.

But I wasn't sure if I would snap back.

But my mother put her hand on my hand and said, "Just be patient."

"I have been. It's been two weeks."

"That's not much time in the scheme of things. It takes a lot to completely undo one life and start the next. Give her time. She'll come back."

"You've never even met her." I said puzzled at her analysis.

"I don't have to. I can see the look on your face. I can see it in how you act."

Later, once you came back. Your relationship with my mother was more than I could have asked for. You embraced one another in a way I never could have expected.

She helped you in ways that I never could. Dealing with the grief, dealing with the anger and frustration.

You see, before I was even born, my parents had lost a child, a sister. I wasn't even alive yet when it happened. She was stillborn. Her cord wrapped around her neck. So my mother knew some of what you went through and the two of you connected.

*&^%$#

A month later, the season had ended. It had been the longest month of my life, still not hearing from you, still not knowing how you felt.

I had told you I was going to hike the end of the Appalachian Trail with the little bit of season that was left. I was set to leave for New Hampshire but my patience had worn thin.

That last month, I'd done what you asked, I'd thought every day long and hard about what you said.

Could I give up some of what I wanted? What about marriage and kids and if you didn't want that?

As I was packing for my hike, I looked at my dresser. Your letter sat there and I instantly knew the answer.

My home had felt empty after you left. Though our time together was brief, it was life-changing and I wanted it back.

I wanted you back.

Because I realized, no one else would ever measure up to what we had.

And maybe I should have been angrier at you. Some of my friends would say that. But in retrospect, it was three weeks of your life. How could I expect that? That you would know answers to those things, completely uproot yourself and come back.

So when I got in my Jeep, I didn't drive to the train station to head for the trail. Instead, I found myself in line at LaGuardia, buying a ticket for O'Hare.

The plane ride was excruciating. The cab downtown even harder.

When I walked into your office, I had a moment of doubt that maybe we didn't fit together? Maybe this wouldn't work?

But when I saw you sitting in your chair, I knew, I knew I was right to be there.

You looked beautiful as always, professional in a way I had never seen you. With your hair down and over your shoulder, heels and a fitted dress.

I realized you could wear anything and looked just as good as the day we met.

When you glanced at the doorway, I sucked in a breath. I was nervous. What if you had changed your mind? What if you felt differently than you had then?

But I knew the second you stood up, that you hadn't.

It was me. It was you.

After you kissed me in your office, not giving a damn about the stares, you asked "what next?"

"New Hampshire?" I questioned.

"Absolutely." You said.

*&^%$#

The next year was nothing short of perfect. Hiking the trail, you said you loved me and I was finally able to return it then and since.

Because I did, I loved you so much and still do. I couldn't imagine my life without you in it.

We traveled again in the spring, to Italy and Greece, places neither of us had ever been. Your job at the bank provided comfort but flexibility as well. I knew you needed that, you needed to have stability but be able to take off on a whim as well.

We hadn't broached the topic of kids or marriage again. We were just enjoying being together. But I knew a decision would have to be made soon, given your age and any timeline we might have.

But as you said, life has a funny way of making decisions for you sometimes, and it did it for us then.

When you told me you were pregnant, I almost couldn't believe it. The joy on my face was surely apparent. When I looked at your face and realized you were just as excited, I was even more elated.

We talked a lot during and after, that she would probably be it, be our only, and I was okay with that.

Then she came.

Alaina.

Our Alaina.

God she's the greatest gift you've ever given me. When I look at her, at the woman she has become, so strong and independent. I know that was your hand, your traits, your wisdom. You say she's like me, but she's so much you as well. Strong and caring, stubborn and passionate. But she lives life to the fullest just as you always have. And she's instilling that in her boys, in her two namesakes after yours. Seth and Garrett will forever carry that link to your past.

When you asked me to marry you, it completed our family. You see I was patient, but that was one thing I really wanted to be your decision.

Still, the day you became mine, in the final way that mattered, I have never been so grateful for how life can unexpectedly happen.

We've had our challenges too. No one is perfect, certainly not me, and not you either. You would have bouts of depression where you withdrew to that dark place. My patience did me well then, knowing that I just had to wait for you to come back. And you always did.

Me, I would get my plans of grandeur wanting to go when we really couldn't.

But we found balance and compromise, we always found a way past it.

Through it all I admired your strength and compassion. And when life threw us the most unexpected, you embraced it and looked at it as a true second chance.

So my dearest, dearest Bella. I can't help but be thankful as well, as I sit here reading you my version of our life together. As you penned so eloquently for me those months back.

I look up and take you in. A sleepy smile graces on your face and I feel the squeeze of your hand.

"I just want you to know. I need you to know how much I treasure this perfectly imperfect life we've had together."

I lean over and kiss you one final time on those lips, the ones I dreamt about in our time apart and I'm sure I'll dream about until my new beginning.

"I love you," you mouth, so tired, so ready.

"I love you Bella. Sleep my love. I will see you again."

*&^%$#

~The End~

Author's Note:

I have so much to say about this story and yet there's no way I can express it in a few paragraphs. So I'll try to keep it brief. This was cathartic in a way for me. I've been touched by some of the issues in this story lately and I think I needed the outlet for it. So thank you for coming along for that ride with me, the ups and downs and twists and turns it presented. I cried as I wrote it, I know many of you did as you read it. I hope it was still enjoyable, it was still a love story after all.

Thank you for your reviews and feedback. I truly value them. I do want to answer a few questions. Edward is still the love of her life, even though in the early chapters she called her husband that, but it was her reflecting on it then. Whereas the whole story is about her and Edward. I purposefully wrote it that way so that she never even said his name. It was only Alice who actually referred to it.

Also, if you didn't notice, the entire thing was written like a poem (as Edward states at the beginning of his letter). If you go back and read it in its entirety, I think you'll pick up on the cadence if you haven't already.

Until next time, I have some other things in mind, so I hope to see you all soon.

~AMJ