I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

Author's Note: Just a short little peek into Bella's thoughts as they move in together.

#35 Something Wonderful

I had expected to feel guilty when I stretched the tape across the box that held Mac's flag…his picture. Instead, there was sorrow and a touch of…peace. I put Mac's soul to rest when I closed that box. That didn't mean I wouldn't love him until the day I died, but I turned away from the past with that simple action, and I faced forward…toward the future.

My future with Edward.

I stood there for a moment and looked at the boxes that contained our lives. How many times had I done this? How many times had I packed away all of the things that were the sum of our existence? I was used to this, and I was good at it. I was quick and efficient, and until the move here to Fayetteville, I had always felt a keen sense of anticipation as I considered where we'd live next.

I found adventure in the constant change. I had grown up with an ever-changing cast of friends and faces. In my married life, my restless spirit had been given free rein. I had noticed that military brats either tended to put down deep, fast roots as adults, or they continued in their gypsy ways, wandering from place to place, calling all of them home.

I had wandered. I had found joy in my journeys. But now I was ready to put down those roots I had once dismissed as unnecessary.

I glanced at Edward. He had been so hesitant to say he didn't want Mac's flag displayed in his – in our – living room. He was always so considerate, so sweetly tolerant of the memory of the man who came before him. For the boys' sakes, I was grateful.

Now, however, Edward and I were going to find our own way. We were going to build a life that was Edward and Bella – not Mac and Bella and Edward. I couldn't give Edward anything less. I wouldn't.

These boxes represented one life. Waiting in a new house was another life. The old life had been sweet, mixed with pain because that's how life was. The new one would be sweet too, and there would be sorrow waiting down the road for us. It was inevitable. But whatever waited for us, we would face it together.

I took Edward's hand and felt his long fingers curl around mine possessively. I liked the feeling, very much.

Then, before it seemed possible, the last box had been put in the Suburbans and we were on our way.

The boys spilled out of the trucks and I could hear only their excited whoops and Emily's enthusiastic barking. We were home.

As we stepped inside the door, I took a deep breath and realized that the strange, unfamiliar feeling inside of me was happiness. This was what it felt like to be well and truly happy. I could vaguely remember the feeling from another life.

But this was new and special because of Edward.

I listened to the boys thunder up the stairs with Emily in the lead. It had been almost three years since Mac had died. Three years since I thought there would be nothing but the boys and a sort of half-life ahead of me.

I had never once suspected that something wonderful still waited for me. Someone wonderful.

We were in the kitchen then and I watched the play of the muscles in his back as he put away the last of the food. I could see his profile from where I stood, the firm line of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the fine lines at the side of his eye – luminous, peaceful green at the moment. A little smile tugged at those perfect lips.

He was as happy as I was.

I just stood there for a while, enjoying the show. His movements were quick, efficient, graceful…he could make even the most mundane chores look like a dance of sorts. While I no longer tripped over my own feet, I knew that I would never have the easy grace that Edward had. It was very sexy to see a man move so fluidly. It brought to mind his moves in a bedroom, his lean, lithe body moving under mine, or over mine…

I had to stop that line of thought or I'd be dragging him upstairs to have my wicked way with him. Later, however, all bets were off. I grinned at the thought.

I knew I should be helping him, but I loved watching him too much to stop. He was just so unexpected that sometimes I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. It was as if a guardian angel had looked down and decided that I deserved a second chance and given it to me.

I almost laughed then, because in the years since Mac's death I had, more than once, imagined him as a foul-mouthed, hulking, off-key singing angel watching over us all.

Then Edward turned. "What?" he asked, his eyes bright, lips quirked.

"Nothing," I answered. "Just…you." I moved toward him and wrapped my arms around his lean waist and leaned against his chest. The steady, reassuring thump-thump of his heart filled me up. "I love you," I whispered.

"Oh Bella," he murmured, his hands skimming over my hair to settled at my hips. "You have no idea how much I love you too."

I looked up at him and let everything I felt for him show. "I think I do, and that's what makes me love you so much."

He laughed softly and kissed the tip of my nose. He looked around. "So…what do you think of our new home?"

I surveyed our tiny kingdom and listened to the ruckus that the heirs-apparent were making upstairs. "I think we're both pretty damned lucky."

Edward snorted and shook his head. "Luck hasn't got anything to do with, baby. This is fate, that's what this is."

"Luck," I whispered. "Fate…doesn't matter…."

His lips found mine. Luck or fate?

Maybe both. Maybe neither.

Still didn't matter.