iBirthday Party

It was a beautiful morning on Mercer Island, if a bit on the cool side. Carly and Sam were absolutely ecstatic. Sam was racing around the house like a mad woman, barking orders, just as she usually did. It was Carly's responsibility to nip at Sam's heels, contradicting her orders, and telling her precious blonde to settle her ass down.

Sam whined at her.

"But Carls!"

"Sam! They're a year old… Seriously!"

Carly had a point. Their girls were celebrating their first birthday, and Sam, being Sam, had gone more than a little insane.

There were balloons all over the house. There were four cakes in the kitchen, all made from scratch by Carly, Sam, Freddie, and Melanie. There were three matching, individual cakes, plus a large sheet cake, meant to accommodate the short guest list. They were expecting more people than Carly would have liked, but it was the girls' first birthday. She figured they had the space to make everyone comfortable.

The doorbell rang. Freddie and Melanie were here. Carly was beside herself. She couldn't possibly be happier to have extra hands on deck.

"Thank God…" she thought. Freddie and Melanie knew well enough to let themselves in. By the time she'd reached the front of the house again, Freddie had thrown the front door wide open. Melanie, her hands full with expertly wrapped presents, called out the entire household in her usually cheery tone.

"Knock, knock, Party people! Where are my little birthday girls?"

Sam rolled her eyes at her twin sister.

"They're… you know… around here somewhere…"

Carly felt sick to her stomach.

"What? You lost our babies, Samantha?"

"Chillax, Cupcake! Kidding!"

As if on cue, the twins toddled into the front room from their shared bedroom, holding hands. They were dressed adorably, Melanie thought. This was clearly Carly's doing. Sam would never have put her girls in matching pink overalls, with little barrettes in their hair.

"Oh, how precious you two are!"

Melanie dumped the gifts into the arms of her husband. He let out a weak protest. He knew it would do no good. When she was with the family, Melanie had blinders on. She loved those little people more than anything.

The little twins toddled into Auntie Melanie's arms, giggling happily. Carly looked on from the kitchen, smiling. She was beyond happy. She couldn't believe that her girls had been here an entire year already. She truly felt like a mommy. Somewhere, she knew, her own mother was looking down on her, smiling. She knew that her mom would be proud of her.

AN HOUR LATER, IN THE BACK YARD…

As much as all of this had come together nicely, it certainly was over the top. Carly had tried to remind Sam that they would be doing this over and over again, every year, but Sam Puckett did the only thing that she knew how to do – she wanted to give her girls everything that she hadn't had growing up.

There were tables of adults sitting there, snacking on cake, ice cream, and, of course, cupcakes. Sam wanted to keep the adults happy as best she knew how. They were an eclectic mix, but they were a thrown-together collection of people, bound together by their importance to this couple, regardless. Thankfully, they'd all thought this was an important enough occasion to turn up for.

Crammed into a small card table set up on the back deck, Spencer sat with his new girlfriend, T-Bo, Socko, and his father. He was having a ball. He was a big kid at heart, so, from his point of view, what wasn't to love?

They had just finished singing happy birthday to the twins, plus the little redheaded Marx girl. Everyone – even Pam Puckett – was enjoying themselves.

Carly looked between her partner and their friends as a miniature food fight broke out between their girls. Megan had grabbed a handful of cake, which ended up all over Ashley's chin. Little Melanie gave the redhead a stern look, and got a lump of frosting tossed at her for her troubles.

Wendy Marx laughed.

"Looks like we've got our hands full here…"

Shelby cuddled close to Wendy. She was enjoying this. She finally felt like she'd amounted to something for the first time in her life. She knew – finally – what she was meant to be. She realized, at long last, that she was meant to be so much more than a fighter. She could relax, settle down for once in her life, and be what she was meant to be – a mom.

Wendy shot her love a silly look. Shelby knew immediately that she was in for an earful. This was Wendy's 'Pick on Shelby' face.

"This is all your fault, you know… our little girl's going to take after her mama… She's going to be a big ol' roughneck…"

Shelby did all she could to keep from laughing. She stuck her tongue out at Wendy. This was typical of the way they played around.

LATER THAT EVENING…

The six friends sat around Freddie and Melanie's patio, enjoying drinks and small talk. Melanie was giving everyone a rundown of her recording schedule for the new album. Freddie had agreed to go into the other family business and join Sam part-time in the kitchen at Il Terrazzo Carmine, spending the rest of his time around the house, babysitting his nieces as needed. Carly was content with her work-from-home arrangement, while Wendy and Shelby had gone into detail about the latest development in their lives – Shelby Marx Mixed Martial Arts. Shelby had just taken ownership of the former Seattle Fight Club, where she had spent her formative years training. She had plenty of wisdom to impart, thanks to her years in the ring, and – from her point of view – the up-and-comers in the sport would very likely pay top dollar to train at the right hand of the youngest champion, male or female, that the sport had ever known.

Sam spoke up.

"You know, if you need anything…"

Carly spoke up, poking fun at the one she loved.

"Samantha, please, this isn't a pie-eating contest…"

Everyone laughed. Everyone, that is, except Shelby Marx.

"Well, you know, Puckett… I may just hold you to that…"

Carly, Melanie, Freddie, and Wendy looked amongst themselves. They had no idea what was going on between Shelby Marx's ears. Sam Puckett, however, simply locked eyes with the former champion, now her closest friend.

"You're on, Marx…"

The friends thought nothing further of it. They were content with each others' company and in the fact that all they collectively held dear slept no more than twenty-five feet away, in the Bensons' guest bedroom.