Author Note: Thanks for the awesome response to this story!
Lots of good guesses for the quiz in the previous chapter, though I was looking for something Bella hadn't specifically pointed out. The most popular guess was Edward using Google, which is also probably correct, ha! Only SarcasticBimbo got the right answer though, so congrats to her! I'll put the answer at the very bottom, in case some don't want to know, since it's tied to what happened in prison.
Thanks again to moosals and NKubie for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.
Chapter 37 — The Epilogue, Part 2
Four years later
"Will you play with me?" Alice's mini-me, her adorable three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Jasmine, pouts as she stares up at Edward.
"Uhhh… Why don't you ask your mommy? Or Aunt Bella?"
"I want play with you!"
"Why? I'm a boy. Aren't little girls supposed to think boys have cooties?"
"What's cooties?" she asks, her sweet face scrunching up. "I want you 'cause you're pretty."
At that charming toddler logic, both Alice and I dissolve into giggles, and Edward turns to glare at us.
"What do you want me to do?" he asks, sounding a bit defeated.
"You'll see." Jasmine smiles brightly, holding out her hand. He wraps his large hand around her tiny one, letting her lead him away from us.
Alice leans back in her lawn chair, patting her bulging stomach. Her second child — a boy this time — is due in two months. She's dreading being heavily pregnant over the hot Tucson summer.
It's like a baby explosion this year. Riley and Fernando, who got married after our junior year, adopted a 15-month-old boy last month. And besides Alice, Rosalie and Emmett are expecting their first child right around my birthday in September, though they're waiting until it's born to find out the sex.
When Jasmine was born, Edward came with me to visit the new family, but he wasn't interested in holding the baby at all. And he hasn't really warmed up to her since. He usually acts like he's afraid of her, so to see him accepting her request to play is unusual. Or maybe he was just tired of listening to our girl talk while Jasper is out picking up dinner.
Watching them across the yard, Jasmine seems to be forcing Edward to have some kind of tea party with her and her dollies. It's kind of sweet.
"Jesus!" Alice gasps, and I turn my head to look at her. "I swear to God, I'm growing a soccer player. Jazzy never kicked this much."
I chuckle at her exaggeration. "Can I feel it?"
"Sure," she smiles, guiding my hand to the right spot. Seconds later, the baby kicks again, and I can definitely feel it. It really is a little miracle.
"Any movement on the baby front with Edward?" Alice asks. While she doesn't know his whole story, she does know about his 18 years in prison — and that he doesn't want kids.
"None that I know of; we haven't discussed it."
Alice frowns, patting my hand. "Maybe one day."
"I don't know. I went into this relationship knowing that there was a chance he'd never change his mind. I've made peace with it."
"I don't get why he's so opposed to it though. He's absolutely adorable with Daisy. I think you guys would be great parents," Alice says.
"I think he's just scared," I reply quietly. Honestly, this is really the only area in which Edward is still letting his past get in the way of his future.
Later that night, after we've made love, Edward and I lie on our sides facing each other. He reaches up, brushing the back of his fingers over my cheek.
"If you want a baby, I won't stand in your way."
My eyes widen and I stare at Edward, unable to believe I've heard him right. "What?"
"I saw you this afternoon, with Alice. I can see that you envy her. I love you so much, and I want to make you happy. It's cheesy, but I want to give you everything your heart desires. Hanging out with Jasmine was ok — I didn't hate it. I think… I think maybe I can do it, I can be a father."
"No." I sit up, turning on the light so I can see him better.
"What do you mean, no?" he asks, brow furrowed.
"Nowhere in that statement did I hear that you want to be a father, just that you want me to have a child and you think you could tolerate it.
"Did you forget that my mother abandoned me when I was two years old, because she couldn't handle being a mother? There is no way I would ever risk doing that to a child."
"Bella, I love you more than my own life! I would never abandon you and our child," he protests.
"Maybe not physically, but emotionally would be just as bad. I will not deliberately bring a child into this world that isn't loved and cherished and wanted by both of its parents. Unless you can tell me that you honestly want to be a father and don't just want this for me, then my answer is no." I stop, taking a deep breath. "Can you tell me that?"
Edward frowns, staring down at the rumpled sheets. "I can't tell you that," he finally whispers.
Two months later, Alice gives birth to her son, Alexander. This time when I stop by to visit and drop off casseroles for the family, Edward stays home.
As I hold the tiny baby in my arms, there's a little pang in my heart. I think I could be a good mom. And I think Edward could be an amazing father — but only if it's something he really wants.
On my 27th birthday, Rosalie gives birth to a beautiful little girl. Emmett suggests names that are take-offs of his own name, like Emma or Emily, but Rose insists on giving their daughter her own identity. They settle on naming her Sophia, a pretty name for a pretty girl.
Since Emmett and Edward are close, this time he does come along to their house when we visit, a few days after the birth. Rose is in the bedroom getting some much-needed rest, while Emmett refuses to put his baby daughter in her crib.
"I swear, man," Emmett says, "What am I supposed to do with a girl? A girl! I wanted a son to play ball with and stuff."
"Them's the breaks," Edward chuckles.
"Girls can play ball too, Emmett," I point out. "My dad taught me to play catch in the backyard. He tried to convince me to go fishing with him, but worms, eww. Instead, I learned to cook the fish he'd catch."
Sophia starts to cry, and Emmett chuckles, standing up with his daughter in his arms. "Looks like she's hungry again," he announces. "Here, hold her while I get her bottle." He holds the baby out to Edward, whose eyes widen. "She doesn't bite," Em chuckles. "Though she might poop on you."
Reluctantly, Edward holds his arms out, letting Emmett place the baby in them. He then takes off for the kitchen to warm up a bottle, since Rose isn't producing enough milk for more than a couple of feedings per day.
Seated next to Edward, I watch his brow furrow as he gazes down at the baby. Slowly, he brings one hand up, rubbing his index finger over her tiny fingers, and she grasps it tightly. "Hi there," he whispers, and I see that she's opened her big blue eyes. I scoot closer to him, brushing my hand over her light wisps of blonde hair.
He looks so good, so natural, holding a baby, but I don't dare tell him that — he needs to figure it out on his own.
When Emmett returns, instead of taking his daughter back, he holds the bottle out to Edward. "Do you want to give it to her? My arm needs a break." I stifle my laughter at his blatant lie.
Edward takes the bottle, touching the nipple to Sophia's lips. Within seconds she opens her mouth and starts sucking.
"Kid has my appetite," her father says proudly, retaking his seat in the recliner.
I reach my hand up, rubbing the back of Edward's neck so it doesn't get stiff as he leans forward, feeding the baby. He turns his head to smile at me.
"She's really a miracle," he says quietly.
"She is," I agree.
When Sophia has finished her bottle, I take her from Edward, since I'm sure he has no idea how to burp a baby. As I pat her back, I whisper softly to her how beautiful she is, even if she can't understand me yet. I notice a peculiar look on Edward's face as he watches me.
A week later as I'm going through my nightly routine in the bathroom, Edward comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. "Let's talk," he suggests quietly. I'd be worried about those two words if he didn't seem completely relaxed.
I follow him back into our bedroom, and as we sit on the bed, he takes my hands in his. "I want it."
My brow furrows for a moment. He couldn't mean that, could he? "Want what?"
"I want what Emmett has. I want to be a father."
I stare into his eyes, looking for any touch of uncertainty, but I see none. Still… "You're really sure?" I question.
"Yes," he nods. "So… can we try? I don't think I'd want to wait much longer; I'm already 45."
"I'll need to make an appointment with my doctor to get the implant removed, but as soon as I've done that, we can try." Since about a year after we came to Tucson, I've used the birth control implant, once the shot I got at the Campus Health clinic wore off. I've had my third one for just over a year now.
"Do it," he smiles.
It takes me two days to get in to see my doctor. After just a few minutes, the implant is out.
I pick up take-out from our favorite restaurant on the way home, then set out some candles, planning a romantic night with my husband.
And once we've finished eating, I lead him toward the bedroom. "Let's go make a baby," I whisper.
Edward and I are hosting Thanksgiving dinner for his parents, my mom and Phil, and Emmett and Rose at our house. I get up early to stuff the turkey and put it in the oven. A few hours later, I head back into the kitchen to start on the side dishes and baste the turkey. I open the oven door and—
My hand over my mouth, I run for the nearest bathroom, nearly tripping over our nosy cat who must have smelled the turkey. I lose my breakfast, heaving and coughing. I've just flushed the toilet when Edward steps into the bathroom behind me, staring down at me still on my knees.
"I don't know what came over me," I rasp. "I got a whiff of the turkey cooking in the oven, and I just…"
My eyes widen as the possible reason hits me over the head — morning sickness.
I am one of the one-third of women whose periods stopped completely within a year of getting the birth control implant. Since they haven't yet returned, I don't have that traditional indicator that our attempts to get pregnant have been successful.
I glance up at Edward and his eyes are just as wide. "Do you think we can find a grocery store or pharmacy open on Thanksgiving?" he asks.
"I don't have time to run out and look," I fret. "We have guests coming in an hour."
"I'll go."
And so while I'm brushing my teeth and drinking some water, Edward takes off to find somewhere to buy a pregnancy test. On Thanksgiving.
I again attempt to baste the turkey, and I'm successful this time. I put the water on to boil for the potatoes, and I've just got them in the water when Edward comes back.
"On my third try, I found somewhere open," he announces, holding up the plastic bag. We head into our bedroom, and once again I have to bar him from following me into the bathroom until I've peed on the stick.
I set the timer on my phone and let him in, stepping into his arms in a move that's so similar to the first time we did this, seven and a half years ago.
Only this time, we're both hoping for a different result.
When the timer goes off, Edward again picks up the stick, and I watch his face carefully. He swallows thickly and then a huge smile takes over his face as he turns it so I can see.
There are two lines.
We decide not to tell the parents immediately, given that we have no idea exactly how far along I am. Instead we tell them all at Christmas, buying each of them a coffee mug saying World's Best Grandma or Grandpa.
When Edward's parents start crying, I start crying. Esme hugs me tightly, telling me over and over again that this is the best gift she could ever receive. Since both she and Carlisle are retired now, they offer to babysit anytime we need.
A few weeks after Valentine's Day is the big doctor's appointment where we'll try to find out the sex of the baby. No putting it off to be a surprise like Emmett and Rose did; we need to know so that Esme can decorate the nursery for us.
Edward is holding tightly to my hand as the technician begins moving the wand over my stomach and the image on the screen flickers to life. We both stare in amazement at the image of our baby.
Once she's finished taking all of the measurements, she turns to us with a smile. "Do you want to know the sex?"
We both nod eagerly and she points to a spot on the screen. "It's a boy."
Shortly after noon on the Fourth of July, Evan Anthony Cullen is born, weighing a whopping eight pounds. We bring our son home from the hospital two days later.
I'm taking a well-deserved nap in our bed when I hear the already unmistakable sound of my baby's cry. When I open my eyes, I see Edward sitting in the rocking chair, holding his son up to his shoulder, and I smile involuntarily. He looks just as amazing holding his child as I always imagined he would.
"We need to let Mommy sleep, ok?" he whispers. "Just a little longer, then you can have her, Little Man." He rubs Evan's back, kissing his cheek, and I nearly melt.
When the baby wails again, Edward looks over to me, seeing that I'm awake. I sit up, opening my nursing gown and bra, and he carries our son over to me. As Evan settles in against my breast, Edward sits on the bed, wrapping his arm around me.
"Does that hurt?" he asks quietly, nodding toward where Evan is feeding.
"It's not the most comfortable feeling in the world," I admit. "Much better when you do it."
He smirks, leaning over to kiss me gently. "Thank you, Bella," he whispers.
"For what?"
"For this incredible gift. Now that Evan is here, I can't imagine not getting to experience this. I already love him so much."
"I always knew you'd be a fantastic father."
"I didn't, but… I'm glad that you let me figure it out in my own time. I may not be a doctor, but I've got a better life than I ever dreamed of — thanks to you. I have no idea why you took the chance on me nine years ago, but I'll be forever grateful that you did."
"You deserved a second chance at life, Edward — more than anyone else I've ever met."
He smiles gently, reaching over to brush his hand over his son's head. He's completely bald, so at this point I have no idea if he'll end up with his father's hair or my darker hair. His features look like a carbon copy of his father as a baby, so I'm hoping for the former.
"My family," he whispers, kissing me tenderly.
We're both startled when Daisy suddenly jumps up onto the bed, walking across our legs to sniff at the newcomer. Then she sits back, looking at both of us expectantly.
"Sorry, Daisy," Edward chuckles. "You're part of the family, too."
*** THE END ***
A/N: And… Daisy gets the last word!
I know some of you wanted them to remain childless, so there was no way I could make all of you happy! Hope you all enjoyed it anyway!
That's all for this one! Amazing that I had no plans to write a continuation of the one-shot and still ended up with 110,000 words.
I'll have a new story that'll start posting on or after September 15, so put me on Author Alert if you haven't already! Other than the very beginning, the rest of the story won't be posted until sometime in October, due to my two-week vacation. Also, I only have 43,000 words written so far, and I'd like to get more pre-written.
Scroll down for last chapter's quiz answer.
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
Edward got down on his knees in front of Bella when he proposed.