To Andrew: Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart . . .

The next morning, daylight streamed through the partially shuttered windows and I groaned, rolled over and hit something warm and hard, yet soft. For a second, I froze, unable to remember what or who would be in my bed—then suddenly, it all came back to me.

Yesterday had been the day Emmett flew into Portland. The passionate kiss he'd given me at the airport, and the incredible way he'd stared at me. Then, the incredible sex we'd shared at my apartment, and then finally, dragging ourselves reluctantly out of bed to take in a Winterhawks game. I thought, wrapping my arms around myself and smiling fiercely with happiness, that Emmett probably hadn't ever met a girl who liked sports as much as I did. In fact, he'd seemed rather shell-shocked at my bloodthirsty reaction to the fights that broke out on the ice.

I giggled a little and rolled over, tucking my arms and body next to his warm figure. He moved restlessly and wrapped himself around me.

"Rosalie," he murmured into my hair, "we should get up. We'll be late."

I wasn't aware that we'd had plans for today, as Emmett had insisted that he be in charge of the whole day of February 14th. Obviously he'd taken that pretty literally.

"But it's early," I groaned into the pillow.

"I'll make you breakfast," Emmett coaxed with that wonderfully sexy Southern accent in full force.

And really, when he put it that way, who was I to deny him anything? He could have me, heart, body and soul.

Emmett removed his arms from around me, much to my dismay and rolled out of bed.

"I'm going to go take a shower, then make breakfast," Emmett called over his shoulder as I admired his naked ass walking towards the bathroom.

I rolled the pillow up and tried to drown out the sound of the shower so I could theoretically go back to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep didn't seem to be in the cards because Emmett sang horribly off-key in the shower and proceeded to continue as he got dressed and walked into the kitchen.

Finally, I gave up, and rolled out of bed, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warm sheets and blankets. Throwing on Emmett's discarded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, I walked into the kitchen and thought that if this was what being with Emmett was like, I could get used to it in a hurry.

No man ever cooked for me. It was always the opposite. So it was positively heart-warming to see Emmett facing the stove, his back to me.

"Whatcha cooking?" I asked, wrapping my hands around his waist and laying my head on the warmth of his back.

"Omelets," he said, clearly concentrating on the pan on the stove. "And you do know, you're asking to get taken on the kitchen floor."

I giggled and reluctantly moved away from him. "I'm hungry this morning so I think I'll take the omelet," I told him, curling up on a barstool.

He turned and shot me a playful look that brought his dimples into full force. It was then I knew that I was really, totally toast. And not just bread. I was finished, done, kaput. This was it for me. If I couldn't have this man, I didn't want any man.

"Go take a shower," he waved me away. These won't be done for awhile and we've got to leave pretty soon."

"Where are we going?" I had a feeling that Emmett wouldn't tell me, but there wasn't any harm in using some of my feminine wiles to try to find out.

"It's a surprise," he said unsurprisingly, giving me a playful push toward the bathroom.

An hour later, I was showered and dressed and totally full of the most incredible omelet I'd ever eaten and driving towards a destination that I didn't know.

"We're going to get lost," I said crossly, but Emmett only would smile broadly.

"Don't like surprises, do you?"

"No," I glared. "I like knowing everything."

"Oh, I bet you do. But this one is worth converting over to the idea, trust me."

"Cocky, are we?" I shot another glare his direction.

He threw back his head and laughed. "Baby, you love it when I'm cocky."

I frowned and muttered about testosterone-riddled males under my breath. "Okay, where am I supposed to turn?"

We were in Hillsboro, a suburb of Portland, and heading towards the airport. Emmett had pointed out a small access road that led right towards it. I was beginning to think that maybe my surprise had something to do with flying, which made no real sense.

"Are we going flying?" I asked, dubiously eyeing the small aircraft that were coming into view.

Naturally, Emmett refused to answer, but as I parked where he told me to, I knew with a sinking feeling of dread that soon we'd be airborne in one of those tiny, dangerous-looking planes.

Emmett got out of the car and started walking towards one of the large storage facilities. He greeted a man who emerged and they talked for a few minutes. I stayed back and watched, trying to shake the feeling that I'd hate Emmett's surprise but being completely unsuccessful.

Why hadn't I told him I was afraid of flying? It had seemed like a smart omission at the time, considering his vocation and his passion, but now, in the face of actually having to fly, it felt more than a little foolish.

Emmett finally came over to me and threaded his fingers through with mine. "That's ours for the afternoon," he said with pride, pointing towards one of the small planes. I looked at it with trepidation and tried to paste a look of enthusiasm on my face.

"Great!" I said, hoping he wouldn't notice that my hands had suddenly gone clammy with sweat.

We headed towards the plane, and I noticed that the man Emmett had been talking to was loading some supplies in the back. I really, really hoped that we wouldn't be spending the night anywhere. Truth be told, I wanted this to be over with as soon as possible, and to be back in my apartment, safe and sound.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Emmett as a pilot—it was more that I didn't trust the aircraft.

"Ready to go?" Emmett turned to me and I knew it was in that moment that he discovered that I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as I'd pretended to be.

"Um, yeah. Sure." I tried to fake him out one last time, but I knew he'd seen right through me.

"Rosalie, are you okay?" He wrapped his arms around me and held me so tight I wondered if he'd ever let me go.

"No," I said in a small voice, hiding my face from him. He'd gone to such lengths to plan this surprise, and if I was anyone else than who I was, it would have been an incredibly romantic gesture. Instead, I was just terrified.

"Are you afraid to fly?" His voice was kind and he didn't seem pissed off, but I still hesitated to tell him the truth.

I nodded slowly.

"I should have asked you," he said ruefully, "but I really wanted it to be a surprise. This is my fault. We don't have to go."

I hated the disappointed tone I heard in his voice, and somehow, I dredged up a tiny bit of courage that I hadn't known existed inside of me.

"No," I said decidedly, and I wondered where all my fearlessness had suddenly come from, "let's go. I want to."

He pulled away from me and looked down at my face. "Are you sure, Rosie?"

"Yes," I insisted and walked toward the death trap, hoping that we could get off the ground before I changed my mind.

Emmett strapped me in carefully in the seat next to the pilot, and I stared wide-eyed at the vast instrument panel. I'd known, of course, that Emmett was a pilot, but I'd never imagined that flying a plane could be this complex. Fear roiled in my stomach, but I tamped it back down with determination. I was going to enjoy this. I wouldn't let my stupid paranoia ruin my Valentine's surprise from the man I loved.

It was then that I realized where the courage had come from. It hadn't come out of strength of character or spirit, but instead out of love and I knew that I'd make it through this, if only because I wanted to be strong for him.

That, of course, didn't stop me gripping the handle next to my seat hard during the takeoff. I hated those and the landings more than anything, but I wasn't going to tell Emmett that. In fact, he was concentrating hard on the flying the plane, and I certainly wasn't going to distract him.

We got off the ground in one piece and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I hadn't exactly expected to crash, but I definitely felt better having that out of the way.

"Rosalie," Emmett said, breaking the silence between us. "You okay?'

"I'm fine," I told him and was surprised to find that I wasn't lying for his benefit. I gradually released the handle and began to look out the window. I'd never been in such a small plane before, and I'd also never flown for pleasure, only to get somewhere I needed to go.

"I was planning on landing at the tiny airstrip I know and having a picnic, but if you don't feel comfortable doing that. . ."

"No," I interrupted, "we'll do exactly what you planned. I'm fine."

That wasn't one hundred percent true, but I found that the incredibly beautiful scenery we were passing was helping to relax me. Emmett's clear expert handling of the plane also did a lot to put me at ease.

We flew over the Columbia Gorge and began our descent. I forced myself not to touch the handle this time, and the landing was easy and smooth. Fear was no longer clogging my throat. In fact, I was shocked to discover that I was actually smiling.

We taxied to a stop, and Emmett jumped out of the plane and helped me to the ground.

My breath clogged in my throat as I looked around. We were nearly on the edge of the Gorge, with an incredible view of what surrounded us. Emmett grabbed the picnic basket and a blanket and we hiked a little ways towards what he said had been recommended as the best picnic spot I'd ever see.

He hadn't been led astray. The small meadow was picture-perfect and for once, it wasn't even raining or particularly windy, which for the Gorge was a miracle. A canopy of trees covered us from view and even more amazingly, sunlight filtered through the leaves. I couldn't have found a more romantic spot even if I'd designed it. I decided that maybe, just maybe, the plane trip had been worth it.

We spread the blanket out on the ground, and began to unpack the basket. Emmett opened a bottle of chilled Oregon chardonnay and poured me a glass but refused any for himself. "I'm flying, remember?" he told me and I laughed.

"You're going to get me drunk now," I told him, batting my eyelashes, "and then take advantage of me up here, all alone."

"It's possible," Emmett said with mock seriousness, pulling me in for a long, lingering kiss.

"Then I suppose I should tell you that there won't be any complaints from this quarter."

"Good," Emmett said. "Let's eat first, though. I need to keep my strength up."

"You do," I giggled. "Really."

Emmett's eyes darkened imperceptibly, and the expression on his face grew serious. And I knew what he was about to say and I was both terrified and joyous.

"Rosalie," he began. "I never thought that when I called my old friend's wife back with an answer to a simple question that I'd find such an incredible and unexpected person on the other line."

He gathered my hands in his. "You've totally changed everything. I hadn't expected to find you in such an unexpected place, but there you were. You're the most incredible woman I've ever met and Rose, I love you."

A warm and contented feeling snaked through my insides, and I knew then that I'd never really be alone again. I threw my arms around his neck and tackled him to the ground, kissing him hard. "I love you too, Emmett," I told him between kisses.

I'd never wanted to tell him goodbye. In fact, I'd purposefully focused on anything but the goodbye, but of course, it came and it came way too soon.

Standing at the security checkpoint, he promised yet again that we'd find a way to be together, forever. I believed him not because I knew it in my logical mind to be true, but because my heart told me that I wouldn't ever let this distance between us prevail.

Six months and three visits later, Emmett moved to Oregon and into my townhouse.

We didn't always get along, but the petty arguments and bickering always made the makeup seem all the more sweet. I'd learned to get over my fear of flying, finally, with his help. Though I could hardly say that our lives were perfect, I knew that I'd never, ever be able to live without him.

Obviously, he felt the same way, because, a year later, at the security checkpoint where I'd first met him, he got down on one knee and asked me to be his forever.

"Silly," I told him through tears of happiness. "I've always been yours."

AN: And that's it, folks! Happy Valentine's Day and I hope you enjoyed this little story. . .I sure loved writing it! Thanks for all your reviews and your encouragement and also to my beta, CallistoLexx.