Seven years later
In the warm glow of the setting sun, along a tree-lined street of a suburban California town, a couple strolled leisurely, hand in hand. He was tall and slim with coffee-coloured hair and bright green, smiling eyes as he glanced lovingly at his wife. She smiled serenely back; her other hand resting lightly on her pregnant stomach, showing clearly under a long summer dress.
"I can feel him moving again," she said, grinning.
"How can you be so sure it's a 'he'?" her husband asked, playfully raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, I'm sure of it," she replied. "We've got a soccer player in here for sure."
"Well, I guess you can tell better than I can," he conceded, squeezing her hand. "It just amazes me that a little … our little person is in there, whatever it is."
"I know," she said, running her hand over the bump. "I can't wait to meet him. Or her," she added, noticing her husband's pout.
They turned off the street and walked up the path of a large, detached house with an apple tree on the front lawn and rose bushes either side of the door. The man reached inside his coat pocket and adjusted something as his wife rang the doorbell.
After a moment, the door was opened by a woman in her early forties with long, wavy brown hair, a long blue dress and a warm, open smile.
"Rose, Harry," she beamed, "come on in. He's nearly ready; I will never understand how a man can take so long to decide which tie goes with which suit!"
Rose laughed. "Always the perfectionist. He'll never change, Julia, I've warned you!"
"You know I wouldn't have him any other way," Julia smiled. "They're here, darling!" she called up the stairs.
"I know, I'm sorry, just coming," a voice replied from the top of the stairs. "The striped one had cat hairs all over it; I think Lucy's been using it as bedding again." He hurried down the stairs to join them, smiling broadly as he shook Harry's hand, then carefully hugged Rose sideways, taking care to avoid colliding with her stomach.
"Seems gets bigger every day, doesn't he?" Rose laughed. "Still, only two months to go and he'll be on the outside. Much more comfortable."
"Definitely," Julia smiled as her husband put his arm around her. "Ready to go, then?"
"All set," Harry replied. "But," he added, reaching inside his jacket and drawing out a bottle of champagne, "before we go, I believe a toast is in order?"
"Oh, Harry, you shouldn't have," Julie chided. "Wait a second, I'll grab some glasses."
"I'll give you a hand," Harry volunteered, and followed Julia through the hall and into the kitchen. Her husband gazed fondly after her, then looked back to Rose.
"I'm so happy for you, Rose," he said tenderly. "I know I say it all the time, but I really am. I can honestly say I never dreamed that things would turn out this way. With us both here, living lives we love and so …so happy."
From the kitchen there came the gentle 'pop' of a cork leaving a bottle.
"Things do work out," Rose replied, smiling softly. "If you let them. That's what we did. We made this happen. We made the choice to make it count."
Seconds later, Julia and Harry came hurrying through the kitchen door, with the now open bottle of champagne and four glasses between them. Harry poured and handed each of them a glass.
"Well, we haven't got time for big speeches," he said, "but let me be the first to say, to Julia and Thomas, a very happy first anniversary. Here's to this and many more."
"Happy first anniversary," Rose echoed. "Here's to many, many years of happiness … and making each and every moment count."
As Rose, Harry and Julia raised their glasses, Rose's eyes met Thomas's and he smiled.
"To making it count," he said, raising his own. "Always."
