Disclaimer: All things Twi belong to SM and all things Whedon belong to Him.

Two weeks after Edward and I got back from Chicago it snowed in Brockport. It was a wet, slushy snow and anyone driving a vehicle of any kind turned into a total idiot.

"Oh, yes, Princess," Riley cooed at the car in front of us as it coasted through the boggy mess of road, brake lights blazing. "Just leave your foot resting right on that brake; it's an excellent way to get us all killed!"

Alec clucked his tongue from the backseat. "If your bitching doesn't kill us first."

My eyes shot to where Riley sat fuming in the driver's seat. If he'd heard Alec's jab, he didn't react. I wondered how much longer they'd last. Riley was hard to handle, I knew that from experience, but I really hoped Alec would stick it out.

"Does your boyfriend know we're running late?" Riley asked.

Riley knew Edward's name, but he was clearly being difficult as he often was when he was cranky—unable to express himself clearly and acting out like an infant without words. I almost wished we could reschedule, but then I remembered what a jerk Edward's mom was ninety-percent of the time I'd spent with her and that Edward and I were taking the good with the bad. I had nothing to hide from him, and he wasn't going to judge me for Riley's behavior.

"Yes," I answered. "Edward knows we're running late."

Ten more minutes passed before we finally arrived at the restaurant where we were meeting Edward for dinner. This meeting would prove to be both an introduction and a holiday celebration, kind of the way Edward and my Chicago trip had turned out.

Edward had made it clear to his parents when we left Chicago that he wouldn't be back for Thanksgiving, that he would be spending the holiday in Brockport with Carlisle and Esme and me. I didn't think Caroline was particularly pleased that she wouldn't see either of her sons on Thanksgiving Day, but she appeared to have begun accepting where Edward and I were headed with our relationship. I just hoped that she would some day reach the place Esme had said she was with her—a place where she would suddenly accept me.

"Uch, this weather," Riley said as he parked his precious Caddy in the very back of the parking lot, as far away from any other car as possible. "I guess we'll just have to risk getting pissed on since I am not taking a chance that some idiot put a scratch or, God forbid, a dent on my baby."

Riley caressed the dashboard, and Alec and I rolled our eyes, as we all loaded up our jacket pockets with our cells phones and wallets. I wished at that moment that I'd brought a hat, but decided that the hood on my jacket would have to do.

Alec and I ran toward the entrance of the restaurant, while Riley lagged behind, smoking and screwing with his phone. When we reached the door, I was relieved to realize I hadn't gotten very wet at all; my hood had given me more than adequate coverage.

Alec opened the door for me and the first thing I saw in the expansive entrance of the hotel and restaurant lobby, what caught my eye and kept it, was Edward. The sight of him warmed what the wet snow outside had just chilled, and I almost giggled at how giddy I felt from just one peek at him in a public place.

He'd just had his hair cut, which is why we hadn't ridden to the restaurant together. It was buzzed and it looked so soft. There was also a damp glistening all over from the snow.

I watched him hand his jacket to the young girl at the coat check then cuff and push up the sleeves on his light blue button down. He was so natural in his proper but untucked and barely buttoned dress shirt over a plain, white tank top. His pants were gray wool and he was wearing black boots.

I had always paid close attention to how guys dressed, mostly because it was often an indication of money and class. But what I liked about how Edward dressed was that everything he wore became second to who he was. Any other guy in the world could wear a random dress shirt and boring wool pants with combat boots and look like a total fucking tool, or lazy, or a poser. Edward, on the other hand, looked like he should never, ever wear anything else.

"Damn," Alec quietly muttered next to me. "Is that him?"

"Yep," I answered with a grin.

I was proud that Alec seemed to think Edward was good-looking, of course, but I was more proud of Edward for other reasons. As he stood in that enormous space filled with hotel and restaurant guests, he oozed the kind of warmth that a lot of men had a hard time conveying with deliberate words or actions. And he was just standing there, silent and barely moving a muscle.

Even though we were getting snow, the few previous days had been beautiful and Edward had spent a lot of time outside, so the naturally fair complexion of his neck and chest had become slightly bronzed. Combined with the vibrant colors on his forearm, his skin radiated next to the light cotton of his shirt.

I watched him run a hand over his clean-shaven jaw and neck as he stood patiently waiting for the girl to give him his claim ticket. When she finally handed it to him, Riley was standing next to me and Alec, then Edward turned toward us and his face slowly opened and brightened with a blinding grin.

"Damn," Riley echoed Alec's earlier remark, and I hoped that just maybe our dinner would run more smoothly than anticipated.

~DL~

"They can't come up with a new plot?" Riley asked no one in particular after I had mentioned that Edward and I had watched The Hangover II the night before. "Or new characters, other than a drug trafficking monkey and a ladyboy?"

Riley's mood hadn't changed much since we'd sat down and our server brought our drinks and appetizers; his ridicule hovered around us, shifting its attention from stupid drivers to stupid movies.

His bitchy attitude was aggravating Edward, I could tell. Alec seemed almost embarrassed, throwing occasional apologetic glances at Edward, which Riley didn't miss. While I wasn't in love with this being the first impression Riley would leave on Edward, I was concerned for Riley. I was wondering what was really going on with him. I was also concerned for where his focus would settle next.

"So…" Riley paused as he filled a small side plate with spinach and artichoke dip and crusty bread. "How long have you two lovebirds been seeing each other?"

I picked up my wine glass and took a sip, bracing myself for interrogation. Edward caught my hesitation and arched his brow.

"Define seeing each other," he asked, never taking his eyes from mine, a small, reassuring smile hugging his lips.

"All right," Riley answered, intently spreading dip on a piece of bread, as if it was one of the most interesting things he'd ever do, as if he wasn't hyper-focused on creating havoc around him. "How long have you been sleeping together?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Hmm…" Edward fixed his own plate of dip and bread. "A month?"

He looked to me with his brow furrowed slightly in question. I nodded in agreement then took a deep breath when I saw the spark in Edward's eye. He wasn't born yesterday, so Riley's obviously derisive line of questioning wasn't lost on him.

"A month?" Riley feigned surprise. "Really… Is that all?"

I didn't answer Riley's rhetorical question, nor did Edward as he shifted his gaze to meet Riley's, his expression a combination of disbelief and admonition.

"You two seem much closer than a couple that's only been together for a month," Riley continued, not heeding Edward's glare or any sense of loyalty he may ever have had toward me.

I looked to Alec in hopes that he would somehow intervene, but he simply sat shaking his head and swishing his bread around in olive oil.

"But then again," Riley wouldn't shut the fuck up. "Royce only just died—when was it, Rose?"

"You motherfu-" Edward's temper flared and his hands were fisted on the table in front of him.

"Riley," I interrupted the scene before someone got hurt. "You're being an obnoxious cunt."

I pushed away from the table and stood, then rested my hand on Edward's shoulder and squeezed. He looked up at me—his teeth grinding. I smoothed my hand over his shoulder and down his back before turning to face Riley. I knew I had let this go on too long, so it was beyond time for me to step in.

"Why don't we take it outside?" I asked, as I rounded the table to where Riley sat.

"Róisín." Edward shifted in his chair, his worried gaze flitting between Riley and me.

I didn't know quite how to tell him this was more than what went on at brunch with his mother, and that I knew there was something wrong with Riley. He was always a little prickly, but this was just plain mean.

"We'll be right back," I assured him, then turned my eyes to Alec.

He looked tired, vacant. I briefly wondered if he'd even registered some of the things Riley had said. Not that it mattered, but his lack of interest in our dinner conversation seemed indicative of what was going on, whether it be the cause or an affect of something bigger.

"Yes, we're just going to powder our noses," Riley said as he stood and followed me away from the table and out into the foyer in search of a less public place for us to have it out.

I walked around a corner toward the restrooms and found a small sofa along the wall where I thought Riley and I could try to at least come to a civil enough understanding in order to finish our dinner.

"You wanna tell me what's going on with you right now?" I asked as I turned to take a seat on the edge of the cushions.

"I'm just trying to assess the intentions of your new beau, dear. You should be thankful for that," Riley answered, fumbling with his pockets and looking intentionally bored. "Fucking smoking laws—I could really use a cigarette right now."

"You know what I could use?" I asked. "You dropping your reenactment of the Clinton Impeachment."

Riley sighed as he made himself as comfortable as possible given the situation, finally dropping to the couch and burrowing in.

"How very relevant and witty of you, Róisín." He rolled his eyes. "What the fuck is that, anyway?"

"I'm not telling you, asshole, because you don't actually care," I answered. "Why don't you start telling me some things? Like why you're pretending to defend Royce's memory when you fucking hated him."

Maybe I was going a bit off track with that question, but I was still pissed and hurt that he'd bring up Royce at his first meeting with Edward.

"Honey…" Riley glared. "I couldn't give a shit less about Royce; he wasn't the one for you, but neither is that one."

"How do you know that?" I was outraged that he would presume to know so fucking much about my current situation when he had only just met Edward less than an hour before.

"You've known each other for a month," Riley stated condescendingly, sitting forward, arms bracing on his knees. "Just fuck him and move on. God knows half the dining room wants to."

Alec included, is what Riley wasn't saying out loud. He was angry and bitter, and my suspicion that things were going south with Alec—that the tension between them was more rigid than usual, and that it wasn't just my recently-embraced awareness of my friends' feelings tipping me off—was becoming very real.

But no matter how much I wanted to support Riley, I had to draw a line.

"He makes me feel good about myself," I said, trying to turn the conversation into something positive. "He's nice to me—like really fucking nice, and honest and real. And he's smart and interesting and he makes me happy."

Riley inhaled deeply, tilting his head and slowly closing his eyes. He shook his head slightly and chuckled.

"What the fuck, man?" I asked.

I was hurt and confused and I just wanted him to talk to me. In his defense, this was the game we'd always played because I was always too inside my own head to ever really confront him for his behavior. I had never asked him to act any other way, nor had I ever established boundaries. Usually, when Riley would act out, I'd turn tail and run until he was back to the Riley I liked and had fun with. But I was done running from reality and conflict or things that were emotionally challenging.

"Talk to me," I pleaded.

Riley suddenly looked defeated, tired, and sad. He opened his eyes and glanced around the space.

"He makes you feel good about yourself?" he asked, meeting my gaze.

I nodded, and he took another deep breath.

"Rose," he said, exhaling heavily. "Look… I want you to be happy—I do, you have to know that—but I'm not gonna sit by and watch you get your heart torn out again."

I slowly reached for his hand and he entwined his fingers in mine. I believed what he was saying. I knew he loved me and wanted to watch over me, but there had to be more to this. There had to be some kind of impetus for Riley's over-protectiveness.

"Shoot me for trying to protect the only woman I'll ever love." He smirked.

"I love you, too… but you hurt me tonight," I said, building the boundary that Riley and I had never had. "If you love me, then show me."

"Now you sound like Alec," Riley scoffed.

"Ri..." I squeezed his hand tighter. "I wish that you and Alec would have what I have with Edward."

Riley rolled his eyes and started to pull away from me, but I wouldn't let him.

"No, listen to me," I said. "You can make all the fun in the world at us, but I am happy. And you just said you wanted that for me; now I'm saying I want it for you, so just deal with it."

He stared at me for a beat then did another eye roll and grinned before leaning forward into a hug.

"He's on his way out," he muttered into my hair.

He was talking about Alec, not Edward. I sighed and squeezed him tighter, but didn't say a word. I just listened.

"I'm too much man for him," Riley joked, shrugging into our embrace. "I've always known this."

I wasn't absolutely convinced that Alec was on his way out, but I couldn't deny it either. Regardless, Riley just needed me to be there. I could've sat and held onto him for another hour, but I assumed Alec and Edward were wondering where we were.

"Should we go back to the table?" I asked, gently pulling out of our hug.

"Yeah," Riley agreed. "Before your bodyguard comes after me with nunchucks or something."

I snorted and smacked him on the shoulder.

As expected, Edward was on the edge of his seat, but relaxed considerably when he saw Riley and I returning hand in hand. Even Alec looked relieved, giving me a tiny bit of hope that, maybe, he still cared.

Riley was relatively quiet for the rest of our meal, occasionally glancing across the table at Edward, who kept his hand on me in some way—on my hand, my arm, my shoulder, or under my hair at the back of my neck. When Riley wasn't curiously eyeing the way Edward was touching me, he was watching Alec. A few times, the two of them made eye contact before quickly looking away from each other.

I was careful with how much I drank at dinner, because I had realized some things through Riley's little outburst. I had taken another step toward my goals, and I wanted to talk to Edward about it all when we got back to my place.

I wanted him to know how strongly I felt. For so long, I had felt powerless and hopeless, and my relationship with Royce had simply compounded those feelings, making them things I took for granted.

I could have cowered to Riley's taunting of Edward's and my relationship and my past choices and behavior, but I didn't. I stuck up for myself and for what I wanted, because for the first time in my life, I knew what that was. The contrast between how I would have reacted three months ago with Royce as my dinner companion versus how I reacted after lessons learned and with a strong man who revered and respected me by my side was stark.

The fact was that no matter whose fault it had ever been that I didn't speak my mind when it really counted, no matter who really had the power, I had always had enough strength to change things. The process of my growing relationship with Edward was simply reinforcing that.

Also, I was finally accepting that I was pissed at Royce—not because he had held so much influence over me, that was my own fault, but because he didn't ever fucking care about me. He didn't care about me like a decent person cares for another human being at all. He cared about me like a person cares about a possession like a bike or a car, but he had no idea, nor did he care to discover, what I felt or wanted.

The more I thought about it, I was mad at myself as well. I started feeling a little bit sorry for myself, even. All I wanted in that moment was to seek comfort in Edward. He had done a brilliant job of helping me feel better and stronger; and, as a result, I had wound up relying on him for comfort.

By the time Edward and I pulled up to my apartment, I was absolutely exhausted from all the emotions overwhelming me, and all I wanted was Edward under me or over me, definitely inside me. As I was climbing out of the passenger side of the Cayenne, my phone rang.

I looked into the palm of my hand after I pulled my phone out of my pocket. "Shit," I said, when I saw who was calling.

"What?" Edward asked, rounding the back of his SUV and approaching me with caution. He seemed weary from the evening's activities as he slowly drew closer to me, watchful and careful. "Who is it?"

I felt myself growl. "My mom," I said, before reluctantly answering her call.

~DL~

I woke up the next morning groggy and slowly remembering the night before. After my mom had dropped the bomb that they were inviting themselves to Brockport for Thanksgiving, I forgot all about the conversation I wanted to have with Edward. I felt like punching something, or running 12 miles, or fucking the life out of Edward. I went with option C.

I rolled over and out from under my warm blankets. I had to pee and my mouth tasted like dog breath. I hadn't really had very much to drink the night before, but I was probably dehydrated from the combination of stress, alcohol, and Edward relentlessly pounding me into my mattress.

Jimbo was yelling at me the second I got out of bed. His food dish was empty. I swore to God he ate more than an adult human.

"Okay, okay," I said. "Jesus, I'm coming."

I scooped a handful of crunchies into a bowl and used a spoon to dollop some of that wet, stinky stuff he liked on top of it.

"Jimbo, this stuff is putrid," I said, then put a lid on the can and stowed the bag of crunchies in the cupboard.

I shuffled my way to the bathroom, glancing out the windows along the way. I still could not believe it was Thanksgiving already. The past few weeks had just flown by. Then, once I reached the bathroom, something occurred to me: I couldn't remember my last period.

I stopped cold inside the bathroom door. My mind raced around if I'd missed a shot and the last time I'd bought tampons. No, I hadn't missed a shot, but I had been wearing shorts and flip-flops the last time I bought tampons.

"Shit," I whispered to myself, lunging toward the top drawer of my bathroom vanity. "Where's that calendar?"

I rifled through the drawer until I found the pink Susan G. Komen Day Planner that my mom had given me the year before. I used the planner to chart my period and when I did my breast self-exams—neither of which I did often enough. Clearly.

I flipped frantically through the book looking for a recent red X then stumbled upon October 11th. I breathed a sigh of relief because October 11th was after the high school boy incident. But it was six weeks ago.

"Shit," I whispered again.

I closed my eyes and took a very deep breath. I tried not to think about Edward sleeping in my bed or my parents, who were likely in their car driving to Brockport right that second. When I opened my eyes, I pulled the top drawer open again, and they immediately settled on an unopened EPT box from when I tested myself monthly, half-hoping I'd end up pregnant with Royce's baby.

I checked to make sure the bathroom door was shut and locked before I focused my efforts on the test. In order to not freak the fuck out, I took my time opening the box, took out both tests and the full instructions. I laid everything out, unfolded the paper, and began to read.

The process was oddly calming. I didn't stop to think about how bizarre it was that I was in the most secure relationship of my life and yet I was the most freaked out about a potential pregnancy.

I washed my hands as I waited for the results and did some rhythmic breathing. After counting to 120 then adding another ten count, I blinked then looked down at the white plastic stick on the counter.

"Shit."

"Róisín?" Edward's voice startled me from outside of the bathroom. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I answered a little too loudly. "I'll be out in a sec."

"Okay," he said. "No rush, I was just checking on you…"

His voice trailed off, as I heard him banging around in the kitchen, probably trying to make coffee. I realized then that I was standing blindly in the middle of the bathroom with the positive test dangling from my fingers. I wasn't sure at all what to do next.

I carefully laid the test back down on the package that sat on the counter, looking closely at myself in the mirror. I looked tired, my hair was sticking up all over the place, but I didn't look pregnant. I shook my head free of thought long enough to wash my hands, eyeing the test all the while as if it might come alive and bite me.

After I dried my hands, I stared at the plastic stick some more, wondering what I should do with it. I couldn't just leave it sitting there; Edward would have to use the bathroom at some point. I decided to slip the evidence back into the box and sweep it into the drawer with the other still-wrapped test.

When I walked out into the living area I smelled coffee brewing, and it was as if I had flipped a pregnancy switch, because I was instantly nauseous.

"Hey," Edward said as he turned to greet me, a warm, sleepy smile on his warm, sleepy face. "Hungry? I thought I'd make some eggs."

His face fell once he finally caught my gaze.

"Róisín? Are you sure you're all right?" He set the carton of eggs he was holding aside and walked across the room to meet me, lightly gripping my shoulders and peering intently into my face.

"I'm…" I didn't know what to say, but I knew I had to tell him right then or it would take me 10 years. "I… I need to sit down."

"Okay." Edward ushered me to the couch, all concern and compassion, his warm hands carefully holding me steady. "Are you sick?"

I swallowed and nodded and closed my eyes. The longer I waited, the more I felt like I might vomit. Edward settled us both on the couch facing each other, his hands flying everywhere—checking my forehead for a fever, tucking my platinum, disastrous excuse for hair behind my ears, squeezing my hands in his.

"Your fingers are freezing," he said, twisting in his seat, looking ready to hop up and move again. "We should get you back to bed."

"No," I said, pulling him closer. "I have to tell you something."

He stopped fidgeting and looked closely into my face once again. He blinked, looked at the bathroom door, then back at me, some semblance of realization dawning on his face. His mouth hung open and he looked a little like a deer in headlights.

"I..." I paused and swallowed again, took a deep breath. "I took a test this morning."

His eyes focused on my mouth and his breathing was shallow. His fingers tickled my palms and he nodded eagerly.

"What kinda test?" he asked.

I felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. We were both breathing, but I felt constricted, and he looked like he might pass out.

"A pregnancy test," I whispered, and his eyes flickered up to meet mine—smoky blue-green, turning to fire.

His jaw clenched and his hands tightened around mine. He nodded again, encouraging me to continue.

"It was positive."

He kept nodding, his eyes dancing and his fingers rhythmically squeezing mine. Then his hands traveled to my wrists and up my arms until he was pulling me into his lap. I settled there, straddling his hips.

"Say something," I whispered into his neck. I felt rigid and on edge, but he was holding me so tight.

"I don't know what to say," he replied, shifting his hold on me. He wrapped his arms entirely around me, his hands in my hair and rubbing circles on my back. "Let's just sit like this for a minute, okay? I just wanna hold you."

I didn't have evidence that I should be concerned about Edward's silence or lack of immediate action, and I was actually slightly reassured by his arms around me and his tone of voice when he said I just wanna hold you.

After a minute or two of holding and rocking and breathing, Edward finally spoke.

"So..." He breathed against my neck. "How far along do you think you are?"

For a frightening moment, I was convinced he was calculating days and risks and questioning if this was his baby. He knew about the high school boy, and Royce, no more than 11 weeks prior.

"Just a few weeks," I answered.

All Edward would've had to say was, "It couldn't be mine" and no one would've blamed him. Not even me.

But he didn't.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, gently pulling away from me and looking me in the eye. "Right now?"

He looked concerned and scared and kind of anxious. But mostly tender, kind, and there for me.

"Scared," I answered honestly. "You?"

"Same," he answered with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "What are you scared of, do you know?"

I was scared of how he would react once this all sunk in, of how a pregnancy would affect our relationship and my new focus, of what my mother would say.

"My mom's gonna flip," I said.

Edward's eyebrows shot up then settled into a single-brow arch, telling me he was both surprised and aggravated by what I had said.

"How are we making this about your mother?" he asked, annoyance coloring his voice. "Isn't this about us?"

"It is; I'm sorry," I said, rubbing his arms, but climbing from his lap. I didn't feel like I needed to be straddling him to have this conversation. "That's just the first concern that popped out of my mouth."

He nodded and took another deep breath. "I'm scared, but I'm also… excited?" His eyes held mine, almost pleading; and everything changed for me in that moment.

The possibility of a happily ever after—love, marriage, babies, a white picket fence—was something I thought didn't really exist, at least not for me. I thought it was a myth, but there was Edward, looking me in the eye, telling me with his hands, and eyes, and words that a portion of that happily ever after was something he was excited about.

"You are?" I asked, relieved and scared and hopeful all at once.

"Yeah," he answered, smiling softly. He was relieved, too.

I looked at the clock and noticed that only about five minutes had passed since I had taken the test in the bathroom. A lot can happen in five minutes.

"I'm excited, too," I said. "But… I'm… what if…?"

"No what ifs right now," he shook his head and entwined our fingers. "Now, we just... take care of each other. Hold onto each other."

I nodded in agreement.

"C'mere," he said, shifting and pulling me to lie on the couch with him.

We laid in silence for several minutes, touching and breathing. My racing mind slowed and began to settle on the most pressing thing at hand. I couldn't have been more than a couple of weeks along, so all the things we should worry about and do were still a ways off; but my mother was coming to visit, and she had a sixth sense about these things.

"So," I began with a raspy voice. "I guess what concerns me most about my mom is that, she's gonna know something's up. She's practically psychic about these things."

"Okay," he sighed and stroked my hair. "Let's say she does figure it out; what then?"

"I don't even know," I answered, dumbly, feeling like a teenager, not wanting my mom and dad to know I was making out with my boyfriend on the living room couch. "It's just the last thing I want to tell her when she meets you—Hey, Ma, this is Edward, my Baby Daddy!"

Edward snorted then lightly smacked my ass. "Please, please don't ever call me that again." He laughed.

I laughed, too, but then sobered slightly.

"And my dad, and school, and the shelter—oh, God…" I buried my face in his neck.

"Shh." Edward rocked me and shifted us some more, pulling the throw on the back of the couch over us. "Let's just… wait."

"For what?" I asked, hoping that waiting would help, whatever that meant. I really didn't want to do anything but lay on my couch with Edward for at least a week.

"Apart from your mother's sixth sense, why does anyone but us have to know just now? Why can't we wait to tell anyone anything until you've at least been to a doctor?" He palmed my belly and slipped his other hand up into my hair. "A lot of people keep it private until they're in their second trimester."

He shrugged back into the cushions and slipped a knee up between my thighs until I was straddling his leg.

"Are you hitting on me right now?" I breathed and my head spun with thoughts of what was to come, within minutes and days and weeks, for Edward and me.

"I'm not gonna lie," Edward whispered, nuzzling my ear and touching his lips to my skin. "You being pregnant with my kid is fucking sexy as Hell."

I shivered and melted—icy, prickly heat spreading over my body.

"You're not worried?" I asked.

What if Riley was right? What if us only being together for a month turned out to be a bad thing and now we were bringing a child into the mix? Yet something told me he was wrong.

"Of course I'm worried—about a lot of things—but right now, I wanna sit with this."

He slid his hands under my shirt and down into my pajama pants, going everywhere, touching me everywhere. Mine wrapped around the soft, buzzed hair at the back of his head and I kissed him on the mouth, long and slow, and time stilled just for us.

End notes: Thank you, OneLilHopeful, TheHeartofLife, and Einfach_mich for pre-reading; and thank you, MsKathy for the red pen.