XV.
One day she broke down, cried, apologized. He smiled warmly and forgave her. She realized later that she had been forgiven long ago, but that he had repeated it for her sake, and she loved him even more.
II.
A movie star she'd always adored beamed back at her from the silver screen. Sam was already asleep—the clean-cut hero held no appeal from her. "Wake me up when the murder starts," she'd muttered to Carly, and she hadn't the heart to tell her best friend that it wasn't even really an action movie.
When the close-up revealed chocolate brown eyes gazing adoringly at the love interest, she choked on her popcorn.
VII.
They were flying somewhere-or-other for a magazine shoot when she got up the courage to ask him.
"Freddie, why do you always sit on the closest seat to the aisle?"
He looked taken aback, but replied rather calmly that fans could get crazy and he didn't want her to be hurt.
Her stomach dropped.
XIX.
Two months till her due date, and Carly was sitting on their bed, concentrating as hard as she could on a sheet of notebook paper. Two columns were drawn on it—"mine" and "his". Beneath each column was a list of attributes. She clutched it to her chest, as if hoping the life growing in her would absorb the writing through osmosis.
He came in, along with the half-a-dozen wonderful things about him that she was determined their baby had to inherit. Gently, he asked what she was doing, and she confessed rather guiltily.
"What if the baby doesn't turn out the way you expect?"
She smiled slyly. "Practice makes perfect."
XI.
There was never some big getting-together moment, no fireworks or orchestras. One day, they were crossing the street to get to the restaurant—even Internet celebrities couldn't get a good parking spot on a Friday night. All dressed to the nines, they waved at some nice people who stopped their car to let the trio by, and she slipped his hand into his. He looked pleased but unsurprised, Sam snorted, Carly flushed, and that was that.
IV.
"Carly, hurry up!" Spencer cried impatiently from outside the store. She shot him a nasty look and tapped one of her stylish new shoes on the hardwood floor.
It was two days before Christmas, and she still didn't have Freddie's present. Usually she'd buy him some techie thing. Last year she'd gotten him a storage doohickey, not even knowing if he could use it or not, but he'd thanked her graciously, and she later saw it hanging off the tech cart, so presumably it was useful.
This year...this year was different. She wasn't sure why, but it was. Maybe it was because this would be the last Christmas they'd all have together as high schoolers. Senior year Christmas, and none of them quite seemed sure yet what would come after.
She wanted to make this year's present memorable. So here she was, in some swanky downtown man-boutique, wishing that the images of Freddie wearing these pieces of expensive formal wear were a little less appealing. Her eyes were locked on a gorgeous dress shirt across the room, and she knew it would come in handy for the interviews that were becoming a part of their weekly routine, but she also knew that her remaining funds were low, especially after lending Sam money for her own present-buying adventures.
The salesman walked up to her. He had a soothing voice, so soothing she nearly missed what he was saying. That shirt, he said, was on sale!
The next thing she knew, she was whipping out her wallet and requesting gift wrap.
XVII.
Their first Valentine's Day as a married couple was interesting, to say the least. Carly discovered that she was booked to fly to New York that morning; she discovered this approximately two and a half hours before her flight. Freddie, for his part, couldn't exactly skip work, so she assumed that their hurried but passionate airport goodbye was the only romantic moment they'd have that day.
Little did she know that when she returned to her hotel to collapse her tired legs on the plush sofa, her husband would be waiting for her with roses and chocolates. She demanded an explanation, but he only gave her a mysterious smile.
XX.
Tears still dripping down her cheeks, she fixed herself another cup of steaming hot tea. Sipping it gingerly, she closed her eyes.
Most would say that she had a bad case of the baby blues. They would be right in saying so. Her beautiful baby girl was asleep in the next room, with dazzling brown eyes like her father's, and yet that fact was only making Carly miserable.
It would be their anniversary in thirty-two minutes, and it didn't look like her beloved husband, the best man she knew, and the father of her baby girl would be arriving in time for the midnight chime.
She turned on a soap and allowed her mind to marinate in the melodrama for thirty-one minutes and thirty seconds, for that was how long it took for her husband, out of breath from taking the stairs up to their apartment two at a time, drenched in rain, and gorgeous as their wedding day to slide in their door, with a thousand apologies. She even considered accepting them.
I.
The first time she thought to herself that she might love Freddie Benson just a little bit was the day of their first real interview.
iCarly had been a smash for some time, but a spot on the national news was making Carly's nerves a wreck. She dropped her pen in the gutter outside the studio, swallowed the breath gum she was chewing when she realized the garlic shrimp takeout had been a bad idea, and broke the heel off of her favorite shoe. By the time they were inside, she looked and felt like she'd been through a hurricane.
Freddie performed no grand romantic gesture—he looked like he might pass out, himself. Yet when she fumbled for her missing pen, his hand held one out to her. "I brought an extra one," he whispered, and that mattered to her much more than, perhaps, it should have.
XIII.
He proposed to her on a snowy night in early January, in a little green gazebo. It was perfect and breathtaking, even though he dropped the ring twice, his hands were shaking so badly (whether from nerves or the cold, she wasn't sure). Afterwards, he waltzed her around, both humming different tunes in some strange harmony. She later thought it was the most beautiful song she'd ever heard.
XXIV.
Again she slipped his hand in his, vividly reminded of the first day she did so. It felt so long ago now. This occasion was less happy.
"Is Auntie Sam going to be okay?" their sweet little girl asked, startling Carly, who'd nearly forgotten she was there, so transported she had been to another time and place.
"We don't know yet," Freddie answered honestly, wrapping his free arm around her. Carly stared dully at a waiting-room magazine. He squeezed her hand tighter, saying all he needed to say without breathing a word.
V.
She gave him the gift, not expecting it to mean half as much to him as it did to her, but when he opened it, he looked at her so deeply she felt sure that her budding feelings for him were out in the open.
He thanked her, and hugged her, and gave her some beautiful necklace that she promised to wear often. As he fastened in on her neck, she suddenly suspected that the stories of their purchases would read much the same.
IX.
It was all over.
"We're clear," he whispered, obviously a little choked up. The final broadcast of iCarly had ended.
Carly stood, frozen in place, as Freddie went through his normal routine. As if he would pick the camera back up next week.
A hush fell over them. It was broken, of course, by Sam. "So..." she said, a note of unsureness evident in her voice, "what now?"
None of them knew.
III.
She was alone, and being the silly teenage girl she knew she was, and being wrapped up in a dizzy feeling that she wasn't quite ready to confront yet, she did the only rational thing.
"Carly. Carly Benson."
Lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Squeezed her eyes shut.
"Yes, I'm Freddie's wife."
She got tingles, sighed.
"I'm an idiot."
XXIII.
A company party, for Freddie's new job. She was shaking hands enthusiastically, beaming with joy and pride and emotions she still didn't have words for.
"Carly, Carly Benson." She watched eyes carefully for a sign of recognition. iCarly had ended five years ago, but most people still remembered her—or if not for that, for her job as anchor on a prestigious station.
This man's eyes were devoid of recognition, however. "Benson. You must be Freddie's...?"
"Yes, I'm Freddie's wife."
Tingles shot through her once more. She knew how much this would mean, and didn't mind a bit.
X.
Sam's question was soon answered.
Job offers came pouring in. A baker's dozen famed networks wanting Carly's charisma or Freddie's technical knowledge.
The lack of a future didn't seem to faze Sam. She proudly declared her intent to move to New York and make a living dancing ("not in a sexy way" she added) and singing until she either caught herself a famous man or became CEO of the company that produced Fat Cakes.
They didn't put it past her.
XXV.
"She'll be fine," the doctor said. "Rest for a few weeks, and then she'll get the cast off."
Her heart stopped.
Freddie talked to the doctor more, but Carly couldn't process it. "She'll be fine," she repeated, as if the news was too good to be true. "She'll be fine."
XVI.
After the heartaches and long shopping days, the decisions and fights and paying Sam's bail...
...the wedding turned out to be absolutely beautiful.
VI.
She answered the door, and there stood Freddie. His eyes seemed to bore right into her, and she couldn't help but remember the awkwardness that had been in the air since Christmas.
"So," he said hastily, "there's this dumb family reunion my mom is forcing me to go to, and it's like this formal-ish event and you can bring a date, so I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."
She hesitated. Did he mean this the way she wanted him to mean it, or—
"As friends," he added.
She forced a winning smile. "Sure. Love to."
XII.
Nothing changed when they got together.
"You were always together," Sam grumbled when she mentioned this.
Sure, he came over more often. There was a considerably greater amount of kissing. Sometimes he'd give her presents for no reason.
But by and large, everything was the same, and she rather liked it that way.
XVIII.
A week after the honeymoon, and there was trouble in paradise.
It had been a terrible day. They'd had half a dozen fights from the time they got up. Carly was cranky, Freddie was suffering from a lack of sleep, and nobody was happy.
She got home before he did, and half-considered ordering out. They shared the cooking, generally, based on whose schedule was more open that day. She glanced at the clock. It'd probably be an hour until he got home.
"Maybe I'll surprise him," she said aloud, a smile creeping over her lips. After all he did for her, he deserved a special evening of his own.
XXII.
Pink and red paint. All over her husband, all over her daughter.
She nearly screamed until she saw the reason.
A finger-painted masterpiece lay at her feet. Tiny handprints covered the paper, and scrawled over it (obviously Freddie's handiwork) were the words "Happy Valentine's Day - we love you!"
"Do you like it?" the paint-covered girl demanded eagerly.
"I love it," she said softly, and thought her heart couldn't possibly hold all of this love.
VIII.
"I just don't know if I should..."
Carly scolded herself for it, but she listened intently nonetheless. Freddie and Sam were talking in the studio, and to their knowledge she was still downstairs making sure Spencer turned off his chainsaw so that they could practice.
"Trust me, she'll say yes."
Jealousy swelled up in her chest. Prom was coming up. That had to be what they were talking about. He wanted to ask some girl, and—
"I don't know. She's never said yes unless it was 'as friends', and I just don't want to go with her as friends."
"Isn't it better than not going with her at all?"
"Sam," he made an exasperated noise, "I'm in love with her."
Her breath caught.
"I'm back!" she announced cheerily, as if she hadn't just heard Freddie confess his love. Sam was glaring at him.
"Carly, uh...would you want to go to prom with me?"
XIV.
"Yes!"
She was squealing into the phone, more twitterpated than ever.
"Sam, I wish you were here to see me. I think I'm about to explode. With happiness."
Her cheeks were warm as she recounted every detail of the proposal.
XXI.
"I'm so sorry," he said again.
"Freddie, ever since I met you, you've been the most reliable person in my life. You've always been there for me."
She thought his head might touch the floor if it hung any lower.
"What I'm trying to say is, it's fine. Of course it's fine. I love you. You don't have to be perfect for me."