A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!

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Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. So are all mistakes.

Chapter 9 – I'll Always Pick the One Who's Been There

Anthony Robert Masen

I lay the multi-grain tortilla out on the lightly buttered pan, doublechecking to make sure I don't have the flame up too high. I did that once, burned a basic grilled cheese and the accompanying pan so badly it was unrecognizable – the entire thing. But that was back at the beginning of my cooking lessons with the woman who's likely the best damn cook in the world. The result was a lesson I'll never forget, and not because of the destroyed pan nor because of the pungent scent of burned cheese and bread, but because of that tiny woman when she's riled up…man. There's nothing like it. She doesn't scare me though – not anymore, and we both know it. We also both know why.

So, I'm mouthing a quiet tune to myself while I cook for my wife. It's one of those tracks Dad used to play around the house when I was a kid. On a typical day around here, you'll hear more Nineties Alternative playing than any of today's hits. I mean, what were the chances two people with grunge-loving parents would meet and fall in love?

Probably better than the chances that the parents of those two people were once teenagers in love with one another, and probably better than the chances that those parents would meet and fall in love again. But there you go. You can't always start over, but you can always begin again.

"I'm falling even more in love- hey, Ness," I call out as I make my way to the fridge and pull out the cheese drawer, "you want that Manchego cheese Mom brought over the other day, or do you want cheddar?"

Over in the living room, Ness ponders her choices. "Hmmm…the baby wants Manchego, and can you layer some sliced strawberries in there too, please and thank you?"

My hand hovers just above the cheese drawer. "Let me make sure I got this straight: the baby wants a quesadilla layered with sliced strawberries, Manchego cheese, and pickles?"

"Ooh, yes! And don't forget to spread the TufBaby Peas in Sweet Vermont Cheddar all over the tortilla, just like it's mayo! Oh, and a glass of cucumber water would go amazing with that. The baby'll definitely move for all that."

"Alright, my love," I chuckle, shaking my head, "I'll take your word that the baby'll move for all that."

I pull out the Manchego wedge, the fruit-infused water, the recyclable TufBaby mason jar, and the biodegradable carton of strawberries. Hands full, I push the cheese drawer shut with my knee, followed by nudging the fridge door shut with my foot. Then, I cringe to myself, glad I'm alone in the kitchen. If Mom would've seen that move, she would've chewed me out. That's another one right up there with burning pots and pans.

Again, I chuckle before I pick up those lyrics where I left off.

"Letting go of all I've held on to."

Ness completes the refrain from the living room. "I'm standing here until you make me move. I'm hanging by a moment here with you! See, the baby's even singing above moving. We got this, Anthony. God, that smells amazing already. Babe, seriously, what would this baby and I do without you?"

"No lie, babe, you'd probably starve – or feed my little munchkin nothing but sweets all day long. Poor thing."

"I can't even deny that."

Her laughter continues ringing out, even as I layer more sliced cheese, strawberries, and pickles on her weird-ass craving. There's seriously no better sound than my wife's laughter. Nonetheless, as much as I adore that woman, what I said holds true; Ness may have inherited her mad baking skills and her mind-blowing creativity from her mom, but she can't cook a basic meal to save a life. In contrast, my stepmom slash mother-in-law, Bella – or just…Mom, as I call her, creates magic out of the most mundane ingredients. But then again, Mom is great at everything.

Now, that thought makes me chuckle a bit sheepishly. What is it that they say? Guys'll marry a woman who reminds them of their mother? In my case, that couldn't be further from the truth. The girl I married reminds me of her own mother.

Yeah, Life's been good to me for the past few years, ever since I met Ness. Not that I had much to complain about before her. I guess, on paper, I'm what they call the product of a "broken home," reared by a young, single dad, who was himself reared by a male chauvinist asshole.

Pardon me, Grandpa, but you are.

On the other end, I was born to an equally young mom, who for as far back as I can remember, barely had time to pat me on the back. And let's not even discuss grandparents on that end.

But you know what? My father, as young as he was, more than made up for anything I may have lacked. From Day One, Dad taught me what it meant to be a man. More than that, he taught me to be a decent human being. So, while I suppose a mom's affection while growing up would've been cool, Dad gave me enough affection for two parents. And before anyone thinks it was a Nineteen-sixties-type Free-For-All around these parts, let me assure you that discipline wasn't lacking either. Oh, I learned discipline, and I was given principles, which were my foundation for the rest. So really, what do I have to bitch about at Life?

Absolutely nothing.

Especially because...well, especially because Lo and behold, Life decided to give me a mom after all.

"Forgetting all I'm lacking…"

Once the cheese begins oozing over the tortilla's edges, I fold it over and drop the flame lower. I'll keep it there for another thirty seconds or so to make sure all the flavors mix and meld. Again, it's something Mom taught me because again, my wife owns my heart and my sweet tooth, but God help us before Dessert Time.

"Hey, Ness," I say as I walk over to the cabinet to pull out a plate, "Munchkin there better move for Daddy now, after I made it this gourmet meal, or else you're both in trouble."

She laughs and laughs, and I'm telling you, no better sound.

"Ooh, what are you going to do to us?" she asks, tone husky now.

"Thank you, God," I mouth as I pour her a glass full of cucumber water, because the constant nausea is finally over, and her Libido is now through the goddamn roof.

"Well, the munchkin is safe…for now," I grin, "but you, Mrs. Masen, while you eat this, I'm gonna undress you and ravage you within an-"

Over on the counter, my phone vibrates.

"Shit."

"Anthony Masen, you'd better finish that thought right now!" Nessie orders. "Better yet, come here and-"

"Hold on, Baby," I chuckle, "I've got a call. But how about you hold on to that thought."

As I set down the pitcher and pick up my phone, I sigh a bit when I see the number.

It's not that her calls bother me, but…they're usually not all that important, and I was in the middle of something good – or rather, about to be in the middle of something good. So, as I hit the green button, I remember those years away in college when Dad drilled me with useful life lessons. One was that, regardless of the rush one might be in, unless it would put you in some form of physical danger to answer a call, one should at least pick up the call and ensure oneself that the person on the other line isn't in some sort of physical danger before you brush them off.

Therefore, I fully intend to obtain that assurance before I promise to call back later – much later.

"Yeah, Ma, what's up?" The words pop out in an admitted rush. Nevertheless, Tanya doesn't seem to notice.

"You'll never believe what just happened to me." Her voice bristles with fury.

My brow furrows, honestly more out of curiosity than concern because she's obviously not in any physical danger.

"What happened to you?"

"That goddamn, self-righteous…mother-in-law of yours," Tanya growls through teeth that sound outrageously clenched. "First, she left me waiting for over a half-hour, when we were supposed to meet for lunch. Then, when I went looking for her at her house because my fucking time is valuable, she cursed me out, said the most offensive things to me in the crudest language imaginable, and finally, she kicked me out of her house!"

From the first moment when Tanya mentions Mom, the fine hairs on my forearms begin to prickle. By the time she's done, I think they've all been scorched off.

"Anthony?" Ness calls out from the living room.

I cover the phone's mouthpiece. "I'll be right there, babe. Give me a minute."

Then, I open the sliding doors to the backyard and step out. This obvious clusterfuck might take a few.

"Maybe you want to fill in the blanks there a bit," I say as calmly as possible.

"What blanks, Anthony? She's self-righteous, petty, vulgar, and she treated me like garbage!"

Again, I keep my tone as composed as I can manage. "Ma, you're an attorney, and I know I don't need to tell you it's all in the details."

Strangely enough, in a way, she's completely right. The details are basically irrelevant in this particular case.

See, I love Tanya; 'course I do. The woman carried me for nine months and actually went through with the birth. With my wife carrying our baby now, I'm only just beginning to understand what kind of crazy crap all that entails.

But let's back that up for a second here because there are a couple of 'Buts' which go with all that, and they're pretty significant ones.

Now, Dad has always been open with me because that's the sort of relationship he and I have. Nonetheless, I know there are things he's never told me, and again, as a guy who's about to be a father himself, I'm starting to see why. It's the instinct to protect, which kicks in from the very first moment; the very first instant you find out you're about to be a father. And I can see how part of that instinct entails keeping certain things from your kid that you think might turn them into psychopaths down the line.

So, here's the first 'but.'

But…I'm not stupid. I doubt Tanya was as ecstatic as is my Ness when she was carrying me. Again, I'm starting to see that there are things you don't tell your kids, but if Tanya was all blissed out during pregnancy, I must've been one big-ass disappointment at birth. That elation sure as hell died once I popped out, and stayed dead while I was a kid…and while I was a teenager…and for the most part, 'til about a year or so ago, when it was inexplicably semi-revived.

The second 'but,'

But…while I love my biological mother because she's my biological mother, I also see Tanya for what she is.

"The details?" I prompt when she still hasn't answered.

She huffs. "You want details? She's jealous of me, Anthony. She's always been jealous of me. She's jealous because when we were kids, your father chose me over her, and she's never gotten over it."

"Holy fuck," I spit silently, momentarily pulling the phone away from me as I marvel at the fact that she just went there. When I return the phone to my ear, she's still going.

"…always been nasty to me, always ready to ruin all my ideas and my plans."

"Exactly what ideas and plans of yours has she ruined?"

"This Gender Reveal Party, for one! I don't know if you know this, but it was my idea," she barks, "but I bet she didn't even mention-"

"No. No, she did mention you," I say, trying to maintain an even tone, "although the way she put it, Ness and I were under the impression it was something you both came up with together."

"You see what I mean?" she says. "No, Anthony; it was all me. She wanted to throw you both some shitty Baby Shower, which she probably would've turned into some shitty, hoe-down affair in a barn or some such place, serving pigs-in-a-blanket and hush puppies, and with her shitty Owl cake as the evening's centerpiece. You should've seen how jealous she was because I was in charge of hiring the decorators for the Gender Reveal Party, while all she did was sketch a shitty cake, day in and day out, in that stupid sketch pad of hers."

"That cake isn't-"

"I got tired of it, Anthony! So you know what I did? I called in another favor and not only did I get you and Ness one of the best party decorators in L.A., I scored Mina Rodrigues, that's right, Mina. Rodrigues," she repeats, "as the caterer for the party! Now, Mina's going to outsource the appetizers, Mina is going to cater the food, and Mina's pastry assistant will design a cake that'll outshine any fucking cake that low-class bi-"

"Hold up there, Ma. Hold. up."

My pulse races wildly. My breaths erupt so quick and shallow, I've got to take a few seconds before I can calm myself enough to say more.

"Hold up. You mean to tell me…" I pinch the bridge of my nose, "you mean to tell me you went in there…into Mom's kitchen…in her house, and you told her she was no longer in charge of catering for her daughter's party because you didn't agree with her vision for it, and so you went and hired some bullshit, big-shot chef, without consulting with the woman who's probably the best goddamn chef and baker on this planet?"

"Anthony-"

"Wait, wait, wait." I fist my hair. "Let's set aside for the moment just how goddamn great Mom is at what's her career. Let's say she was the opposite of what I just said. Let's say she was the worst goddamn cook on the planet, yet she still took time out of her schedule, not simply to hire people, but to pour her goddamn heart and soul into the catering of this party?"

"You're failing to see-"

"No; you're failing to see how disrespectful," I spit through clenched teeth, "you were, on…so many goddamn levels that my mind'll goddamn explode" – I'm so riled up I gesture to my head as if it's exploding – "if I try to count them."

For a few seconds, total silence fills the air space between us.

"You, young man, seem to be forgetting who's side you need to be on in this."

As she herself would say, Ladies and gentlemen of the courtroom, that is when I completely lose it.

"Tanya! This isn't about taking sides! For Ness and I, this has never been about taking sides. It's been about trying, regardless of past mistakes, trying to build a complete family for our kid – aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfather, great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers, regardless of whether some were assholes in the past or not. We wanted to make our kid's family as complete as we could make it because…because he was already going to be missing a granddad at birth. So we tried to build some goddamn Utopia-like, Promised Land of family."

I swallow and shake my head as my eyes glare unseeing at the landscape around me – a landscape Dad helped me plant when we bought the house. A landscape Mom helped Ness design.

"God," I snort, "like blind, naïve assholes, we got to thinking our poor kid needed all its family around, no matter what, or it would be deprived at birth or some shit. Like I don't know better than that. And it looks like…" I smile sadly, "it looks like that's where I went wrong. It looks like I haven't been thinking clearly."

"Obviously!" Tanya hisses. "Look, just tell that woman to leave the party to me, and we can forget about this entire incident. She's your wife's mother, so your wife will possibly side with her, but if you tell Vanessa that you want me-"

"Tanya…Ma," I say quietly, "haven't you heard a word I've said? I mean, come on; I know in a courtroom you've got to make up your own truths and stick with them, but come on here."

"Don't tell me you're going to side with her, Anthony? Anthony," she says when I fail to instantly assure her, "from the beginning, I've watched your father fall for her Little-Miss-Innocent act, ever since we were kids. It's why our marriage didn't work, by the way. Throughout our entire relationship, your father's head was stuck on the ideal of some perfect woman, who never really existed. So you can blame her for that. But there's a difference between Innocence and Self-Righteousness, and that woman is the latter. Now, you're a smart, young man, Anthony, because you were born to an intelligent woman. Are you going to take the side of a woman who's been a fucking thorn since Day One, or are you going to side with your real mother?"

I hear the muted yet tell-tale signs of traffic on her end: horns blaring, the swoosh of tires, a muffled radio passing her by.

"Are you parked?"

"What?"

"Are you on the phone while driving or are you parked somewhere?"

"I'm pulled over on the side," she says.

"Good. Good; don't drive while you're on the phone. Tanya, this was never supposed to be about taking sides, but if you force me to, I'll always pick the woman who's been there for me-"

"You know what? Don't even finish that, Anthony. Look, it turns out I can't plan this party right now, anyway. This latest case I'm on…it's gotten more involved than I expected it to."

"That's fine." As I look up, I see Ness…and my Dad approaching through the kitchen, heading for the sliding doors. "I think Ness and I are going to reconsider this entire party anyhow."

"Fine. Hope all is well. I'll be in touch soon."

"Alright. Take care."

"You too."

A/N: Thoughts?

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