"Whatcha doin'?" Edward asked, slipping his arms around me from behind, his hands resting protectively on my swollen belly.

"Looking at paint swatches. Your mom brought some over this morning," I answered, splaying the samples across the kitchen counter.

"So many colors," Edward remarked. "How typical of my mom to confuse us with every pastel known to mankind."

"She's just trying to be helpful, Edward. This is her first grandchild, after all."

"I know," he said, pulling me back into his chest and planting a kiss on my shoulder. "Our child," he said, caressing my abdomen softly. "Sometimes I still can't believe it. It's really going to happen, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," I said, chuckling. "Which is why we'd better decide on some colors for the nursery."

Several weeks and a few paint cans later, Patrick Alan Cullen's nursery was complete. All we needed now was the little bundle himself.

"The nursery looks fantastic, Edward, you did such a wonderful job," I said as we snuggled in bed that night.

"It was all for you," he murmered into my neck as he settled in behind me. "Well, and for Patrick, too, but I doubt he'll appreciate the fine detail work as much as you."

"Do you remember the last time we painted? It was right after we moved in here. God, did we make a mess," I said, laughing at the memory.

"But we had a hell of a time cleaning up, didn't we?" Edward said suggestively. His fingers trailed up and down my arm before reaching around to fondle my breasts. Gasping, I pushed back into him and he moved his hand down to my thigh, carefully lifting it up, stroking and teasing before gently pushing into me. Our lovemaking was slow and sweet and I relished the moment, knowing that in a few weeks, our world would be changed forever.

Walking into the nursery late one evening, I found Edward sitting in the rocking chair cradling Patrick against his chest, humming softly. It was a sight I would never grow tired of—a sight that stirred me to my soul.

Once Patrick was safely settled in his crib, Edward and I made our way to our bedroom. Suddenly stopping in the middle of the hallway, he turned me toward him and dropped to his knees, throwing his arms around my waist and resting his head on my stomach.

"Edward…sweetheart…what's the matter?" I asked.

When Edward lifted his head to look up at me, his eyes were wet with tears.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" I asked, lack of sleep obviously clouding my ability to reason.

"For Patrick. For you," he replied.