Disclaimer: Bella, Jasper, Edward, and all things that exist in the Twilight universe belong to Stephenie Meyer. She's just nice enough to let us play with them.

Please see author's not at the bottom - that is if you haven't given up on me entirely.

Too much of the same stories in our lives,
I think it's time for change, don't you?
Too much of the same stories in our lives.
(I think it's time for us to walk away from here.)

-Stories, Trapt

"Where's your car?" Charlie grumbles. I've just met him at the airport and now we're driving to the Cullen's for lunch. He doesn't exactly know that I'm living with Edward yet, and it's something that I want to talk to him about on the way, but I don't exactly know how to broach the subject. That's also the reason I haven't told him over the phone before he arrived. Telling my father that I'm living with a man—before marriage, no less—isn't something I've ever thought about. Of course, it's all I can think about these days, and I'm so fucking worried about how Charlie will take the news.

Edward has been telling me all week how I'm overreacting. So has Angela, and Ben, and Esme, and Renee just laughed. It probably wasn't the best idea to pick Charlie up from the airport in Edward's car, either. However, I know my father, and I knew he would show up to Florida in jeans and a flannel shirt. Not exactly ideal clothing for humid, hot weather.

"My air conditioner is broke. I didn't want you to be hot."

"So whose car is this?"

I clear my throat before answering, "Um… Edward's?" Gah! Why did that have to sound like a question?

"You sure 'bout that?"

"Yes?" Again! Grrr… damn… small-town police chief making me nervous.

"Positive?"

"Dad! What the hell? What's up with the twenty questions?"

He shrugs. "Just took me by surprise, I guess. Sorry 'bout that, Bells."

I breathe out slowly. "S'okay. Just… stop with the interrogation."

"It's a really safe vehicle. I'm glad he's not letting you drive around in some crazy, speed-demon of a car."

"Yeah. Edward takes really good care of me, you know," I tell him in a small voice.

"I know it." That's the end of that. Charlie has said his peace on the matter, and he's not going to go any further. He's a man of few words, and he always has been. "You looking forward to your mom's wedding?"

I decide to ignore the edge in his voice as he asks this. I know he'll always love Renee, and I know it's not an easy question for him to ask. "No."

He chuckles. "Why?"

"Because it's Renee's wedding—"

"Don't call your mother by her name."

"—and she's going all kinds of crazy with her plans. It's going to be ridiculous."

Charlie shakes his head as he grins at me. His expression is a fond one. "Yeah, well, then she hasn't changed. Did I ever tell you she wanted flamingos at our wedding?"

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Watch your mouth, young lady."

"I thought she was just trying to get attention!"

He raises his eyebrows and widens his grin. "She wants flamingos at this wedding?"

"Yes!"

He shakes his head, chuckling. "Figures. Glad I don't have to deal with that."

I let him be for a minute. His chuckles turn into belly laughs before they die down. Then, I strike. "Um, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I… um…" Fuck, Bella! Spit it out! "Well… I just… um…"

"Spit it out, Bells." Listen to your father! He's smart!

I chuckle nervously and turn to look at Charlie; he's not laughing. I quiet immediately when I see the serious expression on his face. "Well, um," I clear my throat, "you see—"

"Isabella," he warns in his best 'fatherly voice.' He knows that will do the trick. Damn him.

"ImovedinwithEdward."

"Say again?"

I clear my throat, again, and take a deep breath. Forcing myself to speak slowly, I finally tell him, "I moved in with Edward."

"Really."

"Yeah."

His head turns away from me to gaze out the window, and I worry about this reaction because I've always been able to judge Charlie by the look on his face. I don't know what to do. "Dad?"

Charlie turns back to me with a neutral expression. He's not fast enough though, and I catch the grin he was sporting just before. "So things with Edward are pretty serious then?"

I take another deep breath. "Yes."

It's quiet for a few moments. My lip goes between my teeth as I wait for him to say something, anything else. Finally, he shrugs. "Good to know."

My brow furrows as I ask, "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

I don't answer because he's right. I may be his little girl still, but there's no denying I'm all grown up. I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and while knowing that Edward went to ask for my hand in marriage might help me to understand Charlie's nonchalance, it doesn't change the fact that he really has no say in how I live my life now. I feel absolutely foolish for being so afraid of my father's reaction.

We make idle chit-chat the rest of the way to the Cullen's home, and I chuckle as Charlie remarks about Esme having the same 'Welcome' mat he does back in Forks. I made the same observation the first time I saw their home as well. Esme is waiting for us on the front porch; her grin is warm and wide.

"Charlie Swan! It's about time you make it out to this neck of the woods!"

My father blushes as Esme envelopes him in a hug. "Thanks for having me."

"I'd be absolutely devastated if you came all the way to Florida and didn't come to visit me! Now, come along, there's family you need to meet. Bella, dear, Edward is in the kitchen. Please stop him from doing… whatever it is he's doing."

"But—"

"Go on, Bells. I'm sure I'll be just fine with Esme."

"Of course you will! My mother is the sweetest person ever! Aside from me, that is." Angela sends a wink my way as she practically skips into the room. "You must be Chief Swan. Bella got her eyes from you."

He blushes. Again. I'm so happy to not be the center of attention. "Call me Charlie. And you must be Angela."

"Indeed, I am!" Angela drawls. I just know she's gearing up for a Steel Magnolias quote, but I don't have it in me to tell her Charlie won't know what the hell she's talking about. It would break her little pea-pickin' heart.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Charlie tells her, wide, kind grin in place. "Bells told me a lot about you when she came home. You've really helped her out, ya know."

"Well… it's hard not to love Bella." Angela winks at me causing a blush to form on my cheeks this time. Charlie grins wider as he notes this fact. "Just ask my dear brother."

"You could actually ask any of our family. We're all very partial to Bella," Carlisle's voice is gentle as always when he says this. He's just entered the room, hand extended toward Charlie for a shake. "I'm Carlisle Cullen. My wife and son speak very highly of you, sir, and for that, I must say that I'm very pleased to meet you."

Charlie's head bobs in a nod of 'hello' as he takes Carlisle's hand, and for just a moment, a tightening forms in my throat. My father and the man who has already been like a second father to me shaking hands is a momentous occasion, and one, I realize, that I wasn't entirely prepared for.

"You have a lovely home, Carlisle. And I just gotta say… your family is incredible. Thank you all for taking care of my daughter. I was worried about her, but luckily… she met some real good people. I'm grateful." I don't imagine the tremor in Charlie's voice as he says this, nor do I miss the glassiness of his eyes before he lowers his head to the ground. My own eyes start to tear up looking at my father this way. He's never been one to show emotion like this. I'm not used to it.

"I'm not as sweet as I used to be!" Angela exclaims, obviously trying to lighten the mood. Ever the life of the party, that one.

It works though because Charlie chuckles, albeit a bit uncomfortably. The sound makes me giggle. In his timid, unsure voice, he says, "That's… nice?"

"Angela likes to quote Steel Magnolias, Dad."

Charlie nods, but his brow is furrowed. As discreetly as possible, he leans toward me and asks, "That's a movie?"

Only he isn't discreet enough. Angela gasps, "You haven't seen Steel Magnolias? Oh my God! Come, come, come! We must remedy this!"

I grin as I watch my father's cheeks become as red as an apple. Slyly, I look toward Esme's beaming face. She mouths, "Go," and sends me a wink. I leave my father in the much-capable hands… of the Cullen women, and make my way to my very own Cullen. Besides, I know Carlisle will keep him safe.

My grin grows as I walk through the door of the kitchen and see Edward. I'm not sure what he's doing, but his brow is furrowed and his lips are pouted, and he looks like a little boy trying to figure out a difficult math problem. He's bent over the island in the middle of the kitchen, studying a box as if it contains the secrets to the universe. I stand, staring at him for a moment, and allow myself to think back over the past week.

Moving out of my apartment, and into Edward's condo, was a crazy two-day event. I should have known the Cullen's, and now Renee, wouldn't allow me to do it on my own. Still, waking up at five-thirty in the morning to pounding on Edward's door was a surprise. Opening it and finding Esme, Angela and Renee standing on the other side with Starbuck's in hand was an even bigger surprise. The biggest surprise of all was finding Tanya and Ben in my apartment, packing up my things already.

I wasn't mad at anyone. I'm still not mad at anyone. Overwhelmed is what I am. On top of the support from everyone—even Jasper, who called and congratulated me—it's just such a shock to be so included in so many people's lives. I've never had that before, and I'm still adjusting. It's strange, and wonderful, and completely unexpected, but… it's my life now.

"You just gonna stand there and stare at me? Or are you gonna help?"

I chuckle as I tell him, "I don't know, gorgeous. Your mother specifically told me to stop you doing whatever you're doing."

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, "She doesn't trust me in her kitchen."

"Edward, I don't trust you in my kitchen." I hope this blow is softened by the grin I'm still sporting.

"Our kitchen, missy. Get it right."

"Do you cook in our kitchen?"

"Uh—no. You don't let me."

"Exactly. My kitchen."

Edward sighs, but grins anyway. He mutters, "Yeah, yeah. Your kitchen. Will you ever let me cook in it?"

"Probably not."

"Why?"

"Because I love that kitchen and everything in it, and I just don't trust you with it."

"It was my kitchen first, you know."

"I know."

"So I could assert my authority and make you let me cook."

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"I know you."

He scoffs, "You're stubborn."

I grin, remembering him saying those exact two words to me the first time we met. "You love that about me."

His eyes focus on my own, and my cheeks blush under his penetrating gaze. He's always making me blush. I think he does it on purpose. "I do love that about you. Amongst other things."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Edward rounds the island, and before I know it, he's standing directly in front of me. He's turned my body around with only his stare, and now I'm pinned between him and the island in the kitchen. His hands come forward, skimming past my sides, to rest upon the tile of Esme's counter. "This…" His lips graze the skin below my lips; his touch is tender and slow, and not enough. He presses a kiss between my bottom lip and my chin before ghosting his lips to the right and up. "And this…" Another kiss lands upon my skin, this one at the corner of my mouth. I begin to pant.

Really, it can't be helped. Edward always has this effect on me, and he knows it. He's toying with me. "Oh, and, this," he murmurs as his lips trail even further north, stopping just to the side of my nose. His mouth opens as his bottom lip takes control, grazing the skin to the point of my nose. His lips close and the gentlest of kisses is pressed against me. "But what I love the most about you is…" The trail leads to my eyes, which are shut tightly in anticipation. He presses a kiss to the right first, then the left, and tells me, "Your eyes. That's what I love the most."

Oh. My. God. What can I even say when his lips are against me and he's spouting off the things he loves about me?

"I love your eyes, too," I respond, breathless and panting at the same time.

"I know."

"Huh?"

"You said so in your sleep."

What? I do NOT sleep-talk!

"Uh—think you're confused. You're the one who talks in his sleep."

"You do too, angel."

"No, I don't!"

"You do!"

"Do not!"

Edward rolls his eyes. "Last night you said that your father was going to kill me, and that he could so get away with it since he's the Chief."

I gape at him. "I didn't—that's crazy—Charlie wouldn't—I do not sleep-talk!"

He just chuckles at me, and nonchalantly says, "Whatever you say, angel."

"Edward!"

"Bella, dear, oh good. You distracted Edward," Esme says, smiling as she enters the kitchen. She snatches the box of whatever-the-hell-Edward-had and flies across the room with it. I watch as she opens a cabinet, puts the box back in its proper place, closes the cabinet door, takes a key from her pocket, and locks it. She whirls back around to face us.

I laugh. "Did you really just lock that up?"

Esme grins at me. "Edward, honey, you know you're not allowed to make pudding anymore. You remember what happened last time you—"

"Mom!" Edward whines.

I find this quite interesting, and want to know what happened last time. "So what'd he do? To be banished from making pudding, that is. And to the point that you actually lock the box up?"

"Mom," he warns.

Esme just smiles deviously and winks. "Remind me of that question next time we're alone."

"Will do," I respond with a nod and a grin. I might have winked back at her as well.

"Will not do," Edward says as he glares at Esme. "Mom—"

"Oh, shush, honey. It's my right as your mother to share all your secrets."

"But—"

"Now, let's go save Charlie. I believe Angela is probably overwhelming him with stories of Shelby's sacrifice for her son." Esme sighs. She turns a tender look toward both of us. "You know how she is."

My grin is still wide as Edward mumbles his agreement about how odd Angela tends to be, and we follow Esme out of the kitchen. My eyes wander as we walk through the house, still amazed at how talented Esme is — in just about everything. However, decorating her home, making this overwhelming house into a home… well, that is by far her biggest and best accomplishment. Well, aside from raising two such wonderful beings as Edward and Angela. Oh, and marrying such a loving, tender, gorgeous man as Carlisle Cullen. Well… and opening, running, and expanding her business into what it is today. Hmm. If I didn't know any better, I might believe Esme possesses some kind of super powers, and that she might possibly be hiding a cape inside of one of the fifty closets in this humongous house. Might. Maybe. Hell, she probably does have one hidden.

"Bells! Why didn't you tell me that these guys don't know how to fish? I would have brought my supplies and given them a proper lesson!"

I roll my eyes, discreetly. I learned long ago that my father doesn't particularly care for the rolling of my eyes. He likes to tell me, "Roll your eyes one more time, young lady. I'll roll your little head." I learned quickly he wasn't just joking.

"Sorry, Dad. Must've slipped my mind."

Charlie shakes his head at me disapprovingly. "Well, that's fine, that's fine. Now we know. I'm sure there's a good tackle store around here somewhere. We'll remedy this straight away. What're you doing tomorrow, Edward?"

My eyebrows shoot up and I turn my head toward Edward only to find him sporting a grin. "Nada. I figured you'd want to go fishing. So I searched out a tackle store. Oh! And I bought four poles for us."

My eyebrows shoot right back down into a furrow. Edward went and bought fishing poles? "When did you do that?"

He looks at me, a somewhat guilty expression on his face. "The other day. I didn't want to bother you with it. So I just made sure I got some good advice on what to look for and what was best."

"Edward," my father scolds, "I hope you didn't let those clerks talk to you into a bunch of stuff you don't need. Or a more expensive pole that just isn't necessary."

Edward shakes his head. "Not at all. I, uh, actually called Jasper. He seems to know quite a bit about fishing. Anyway, he helped me."

If my father's eyebrows could go any higher, they would probably disappear right into his hair. It's another subject I have yet to breach with Charlie—Edward and Jasper's budding bromance. I'm still coming to terms with it myself, but that doesn't mean I'm unhappy about it. I always thought the two would have made good friends if the situation had been a little different.

I'm brought out of my guilty thoughts of withholding information from my father by his throat clearing. He says, "Well, yeah. Jasper's been fishing with the res boys for a long time. It's Bell's fault, really. She introduced them all to each other. Haven't been able to get a good bite since those boys started fishing on the same days as me."

"Well, Dad, when you grow up, you get days off. Considering all those guys work at the same place, that means they all have the same days off."

"Yeah, well, I've half a mind to call the damn plant and ask 'em to change their days off. Think that'd work?"

"Uh—no."

"Yeah, me either," Charlie grumbles. "So, Edward, tell me about these poles." I tune out on them and instead make my way to Angela. She doesn't bother to hide her grin, and she doesn't waste any time whispering how wonderful my father is.

I can't agree with her more as I watch him interact flawlessly with the Cullen's, and, most importantly, with Edward. My heart doesn't slow for the rest of the day and I wonder if it ever will. The thought of my life finally starting crosses my mind more times than I can count, and I just know… that everything I've waited forever for… everything I've spent my life dreaming might happen to me… well, it's all coming true before my eyes.

The drive to Edward's condo is not a quiet one. Though really, I didn't expect it to be. It is, however, longer than I expected. Edward has taken it upon himself to be Charlie's own personal tour guide. It feels as if we've driven around the state by the time we actually park in the garage and make our way out—Edward carrying Charlie's bags—Charlie arguing about it—and me, well I'm just grinning at their antics. They get along so well with one another, and if it wouldn't give away too much, I might have asked when they got to know one another so well.

Alas, it would give away too much. Most likely, it would embarrass the crap out of Edward, but also, it would disappoint him. The thought stops me cold.

Edward would be disappointed to find I already have knowledge of his plans for us. I already know he wishes to ask for my hand. I'm unsure of when exactly he wants to do it, but that he wants to, I'm sure. I don't even know that I'll beat him to the punch, so to speak, seeing as I want to propose at Renee's wedding. That's the plan, but now… now I'm wondering. Would me asking him disappoint him?

An alarm begins its shrewd chime in my head as the facts begin to weigh me down. Ding! Edward didn't travel all the way to Washington for nothing. Ding! He didn't spend a week with my father for no good reason. Ding! He went to ask for my father's blessing. Ding! He wants to ask for my hand in marriage.

The last ding! rips a question from my brain that I hadn't thought of before: Would I be taking what Edward wants away from him with this crazy plan of mine to propose?

"Bella?" Edward asks. He and Charlie are both standing at the door to our condo, matching expressions of worry written across their faces. I realize I'm still standing in the door of the elevator, and the dings weren't so much in my head as they were actually taking place around me. Ding! chimes the elevator as it, again, tries to close, but I'm standing in its way.

I blush furiously, realizing that I'm in my head when I need to be here, with the two men that mean the world to me. I sigh. "Sorry." The expressions don't fade from their faces, and I know I need to explain what I've just been thinking about, but I can't exactly tell them the truth. So… I improvise. "Was just thinking about something Mom told me." Which isn't exactly a lie. I mean, Renee talked to me about marrying Edward. "And weddings."

The non-lie works. Charlie blushes, most likely thinking of my mother in a wedding dress—for which I'm instantly contrite. Only… what's this?

Edward blushes too! They're looking at each other! Charlie is discreetly shifting his eyes toward Edward, who is trying his darndest to look anywhere but me while at the same time, sneaking a glance at my father. Hmm. Interesting. And so not smooth. These two should never conspire or play poker together. They suck.

"Anyway," I say, clearing my throat, "it's not really important." Which is a total lie; it's the most important thing in the world to me—marrying Edward, spending forever with him. "So… uh… let's go inside?"

Immediately, twin nods of relief spring from them both and Edward's back is turned to me before I can blink as he unlocks the door. Charlie follows him inside and I trial behind.

A low whistle blows through Charlie's lips. "Movin' on up, huh, Bells?"

My jaw drops. "I'm not—"

"Holy wow! Is that a fifty-two inch?" Charlie cuts me off before I can even begin.

"Sure is," Edward answers proudly.

Another whistle from Charlie, this one not so low, more appreciative. "High definition, too?"

"Yes, sir."

My father shakes his head. "Now, now, Edward. I'm going to have to insist you call me Charlie. Or something else besides sir. Makes me feel old."

"Think I can handle that," Edward replies, grinning all the while. "You know… I'm pretty sure I get all the sports channels. Weren't the Mariners playing tonight?"

"Hot damn! A man after my own heart!"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, uh, we put you in the guest bedroom, Dad. That's the door on the—"

"Plenty of time for that later, Bells. There's ball on television needs attending to."

They round the black, leather couch at the same time—only on opposite ends—and plop down in a fashion that might have looked planned, if I didn't know better. Edward reaches for the remote, and after a short discussion with Charlie on how to work the listings, they're watching the Mariners. Happily. Oblivious to me, still standing by the door next to Charlie's bag. I sigh and shake my head, but resign myself to the fact that I've been abandoned for America's favorite pastime.

Instead of moping, I do what I always did growing up. I make my way to the kitchen and pull two beers out. 'Vitamin R' for my father—which I had to special order because they do not sell it in the state of Florida, and a Bud Light for Edward, who didn't want my father to think him pretentious for drinking only foreign beers.

I don't bother to round the couch because I know I'll only get yelled at for stepping in front of the action. Instead I sidle up to the back and pass the beers over the shoulders of their respective drinkers. Identical mutterings of, "Thanks," make their way to my ears and, unwittingly, a smile creeps its way across my lips.

There really is no point in trying to carry on a conversation with two people of the male persuasion when there is baseball on television. I know this, have known this for most of my life. Hell, I grew up with Charlie Swan. Mariners or Seahawks games mean that Charlie is off-limits for the duration. Still, knowing this and coming to terms with the fact that the man I wish to spend the rest of my life with is exactly the same is… baffling. How did I not know that Edward is aware of what a 'ground rule double' or 'seventh-inning stretch' is? Honestly, aren't these things one should know about their significant other?

In my defense, I've never seen Edward actually watch a sports game. From the way the two talk though—in broken sentences and grunts, no less—he knows much about football as well. Also, how was I supposed to know that Jacksonville had its own football team? Just because I grew up with a sports-addicted freak doesn't mean I actually picked anything up. Still, from the crazy looks I received from the two of them… I'm kind of thinking I might need to brush up on my terminology. In fact, if what Edward is saying is true, if his family has a box at Alltel Stadium—the home of the Jacksonville Jaguars—well, yeah. I wonder if Angela goes to the games? Surely we can find something other than football to discuss while the men-folk speak in their weird, grunting speech.

Instead of trying to actually make sense of what they are saying, and being bored out of my mind watching the tiny white ball fly through the stadium—which, by the way, I have to wonder about the people that run the cameras, and how exactly they're able to keep up with something so small—I decide to pull my laptop into the living room and take up post in Edward's overstuffed chair. It's quite nice in here if I actually stick my earbuds in and pretend like the other two aren't in the room with me.

However, when I open my browser I'm struck with dumb. I can't think of a thing to look up. I mean, this is the internet, and it's practically smarter than me. Shouldn't it just tell me something to look up? After no less than ten minutes—and nothing to show for it, except for a still empty search box on Google—I close out the window with a sigh. My eyes find themselves looking back toward the television screen, but even with my music blasting in my ears, it's not interesting to me.

My vision wanders to the two men on the couch. They're still sitting identically; slouching with their legs kicked up on the coffee table and crossed at the ankle. As I watch, Charlie lifts his beer to his lips and tosses it back. His head flies back forward to soon, and he holds the can in front of his face before giving it a good shake. I cringe, expecting the liquid to foam over and onto him and Edward's leather couch, but it doesn't. Empty. My eyes then search out Edward's bottle, only to find it empty as well, sitting on the coffee table. Without a coaster. I glare at it for all of a second before hopping from the chair and snatching it off of the table. I then glare at the little ring of moisture residing in its place.

I shift my glare to Edward—he knows I can't stand when people don't use coasters—but he isn't paying attention to me. With a huff I realize Charlie is telling him some story about me when I was younger. I roll my eyes. Charlie's stories are more embarrassing than Renee's stories because they all involve either fishing or sports. Fishing I picked up on. Sports I never did. Obviously.

I don't bother walking behind the couch, instead choosing to lean one hand on Edward's outstretched legs as I reach over to snatch Charlie's can from him. I'm just at the brink of being really pissed because they haven't said so much as two words to me in the last half-hour—even before I put my earbuds in—when I feel Edward. One hand rests on the small of my back and the other he reaches under my body to hold my arm stable as I reach for Charlie's empty. Immediately, I blush.

Then, so low that only I can hear, he tells me, "Thank you, angel."

The grin on my face as I make my way to the kitchen is ridiculous, and I stay a few extra minutes just to make myself look more presentable. I can only imagine the teasing Charlie would give if he saw me like this. Cheesy and in love.

So it is with great joy that I make my way back to the two men. The loves of my life, and hand them refills. It is amusement, and not annoyance, that I regard them after that. Just a simple gesture from Edward, and I'm seventeen all over again. Only, I'm swooning over him, and not a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, Texan with a killer drawl. It's with this thought in my head that I open my closed laptop, pull up my word processor, and begin to type.

I'm going to rewrite my history, and this time, I'm going to do it right.

This? Is where I apologize, profusely. I can't even begin to tell you all how sorry I am for the absolutely ridiculous wait time on this. It's been almost five months to the day since I've updated Through Glass, and I have to tell you all, it was never, ever, ever my intention to take a break, at all, much less one of such epic proportions. When last I updated, my husband was getting ready to ship out to Basic Training for the Air Force, and, well, I found that the closer it came to that date, the further my mind wandered from anything fanfiction, or fanfiction related. When he left, my intention was to finish this story, and get crackin' on my next. I did get three chapters of that story written, but everytime I pulled up this chapter, it was like... Brick. Fucking. Wall. Just couldn't do it. And I know many of you grew frustrated with me in the course of this hiatus, some of you vocalized, and as upset as you might be with me, please know that, even frustrated words... were the motivation I needed to finish this chapter. As you can probably tell, I am sorry. So incredibly sorry, and I will not do this to you again.

That being said, it was my goal to finish the story before posting anything else at all. I have not. I finished this chapter today, and as I did, I told myself I wasn't going to post. It's been glaring at me, as I've been working on the next chapter - which, by the way, is coming along quite nicely - and finally, I decided to throw all of you a bone. I probably should have posted an author's note between the last chapter and this one, but honestly? I hate those things when other author's do them, so I decided to post the chapter, and to give you all my apologies along with it. With all of that, I'll tell you this: there are two regular chapters and an epilogue planned for this story, and I will be posting them ALL no later than November 1st. It truly doesn't take me long to write a chapter, and I know what is going in to these three, but now my husband is at tech school, and my nights have been sanctioned to skype and all that is him. So, I'm giving myself some leeway. Also, because I haven't been clear, the last three will post at the SAME TIME, on the SAME DAY. I will post them minutes apart, as my way of saying thank you to everyone who hasn't flounced, and to all of those who have been around since the beginning. Thank you all, so much.

Les, my deepest apologies to you, when I say fanfiction, I mean fanfiction, and there have been so few times that I've actually read. I get your updates still, and it's gonna be a hell of a day when I finally get to read all that you've done. I've seen where you've been rec'd, I've seen where you've faithfully kept up with your readers and your friends, and I've been a complete shit to you. I am so sorry, and please know I haven't forgotten about you or your awesomeness by any means, whatsoever. It's just been hell without my backbone here to keep me sane, and I've taken to moping in dark rooms and communicating with nods instead of words. I am so sorry.

Everyone please go read her story, The Path We Choose, you won't be sorry.

Lastly, Beausoir, if you're there... honey, I hope everything is okay, and know that you're still in my every thought. Love you, woman, let me hear from you soon.

Thank you all for actually reading through, your words are incredible, and... I'll be seeing you all again, very soon.