I flipped the channel to one of my favorite music ones and closed my eyes. Music washed through me a bit easier these days. I could even make it through classical.

My lips twisted upward as I mused. Life was easy as breathing nowadays. It'd been 3 years since Edward (I could think his name now) left me. There was a tiny part of my heart that might still flutter if he were to ever come back. But now… I didn't want him too.

I opened my eyes and turned towards the Christmas tree. The decorations were as simple as my husband would allow, which wasn't nearly as simple as I wanted. But I was okay with whatever made him happy.

The green stood out brilliantly against the deep red wall, the lights casting baubles of glow against the paint. If I looked closely, I could see myself in some of the ornaments.

Myself. Happy and wholehearted. And very, very round. I chuckled, moving a hand to cradle the bump in my stomach. Thinking of the small bundles of life that I carried always made me practically glow. And why wouldn't I?

Of course, there were the nightmares. Nightmares where my body would be twisted and mangled in my motherhood, and I would be broken and dead as the baby would finally rip itself out of my body.

But—not these babies. They could never. They were natural, alive. I grinned.

My eyes strayed to a photograph on the wall. My wedding photograph. I could hardly recognize myself. I looked so young there. And he looked the same as ever. Must be the never-aging thing. I laughed. It was so much like Edward, but in a healthier way.

Edward. When I thought of him, there wasn't the same pull. It was there, sure, but not in the same obnoxious way. I wasn't sure if I would ever completely get over him.

My wedding memories clouded up my vision with tears. My father, slapping my husband on the back. My mom, tears streaking down her face as she wrapped me in her arms. His father, so exultant in his joy he could hardly speak.

Carlisle came that night, with Esme. By themselves, of course. I didn't mind. They each hugged me, but I could see that they were hurting.

There was always that fear of imprinting. But he promised me, no chemical weirdness could ever take him away from me, ever. I smiled, thinking about him, and glanced at the clock. He would be home soon. I got up off the couch and made my way to the backyard.

I pulled the steaks off the grill, and went back inside, closing the screen behind me. I pulled the potato salad out of the fridge. Mixed up some lemonade.

The door opened. "Honey, I'm home," he called, almost sarcastically.

"Jacob!" I cried.

I felt his arms wrap around my waist. He placed a kiss on my cheek. "How are you?" He asked, and I could feel the smile in his voice.

I turned around and locked his lips in mine. For a couple seconds, the only things in the world were our ragged breaths and our loud heartbeats. "Does that answer your question?" I asked as soon as I could tear my lips from him. His hands moved down to the pronounced bump in between my hips. He knelt down and kissed it, and I giggled.

"Welcome home."