I do not own Twilight.

Five Years Later

"Honey, are you sure you want to do this?"

I tried my hardest not to roll my eyes at my mom. I really did, but sometimes it's just impossible.

She opened a box with a knife, pulling out plate after plate, placing them on the counter. "I mean, you want to be this far away? From me? From Charlie? From your home—?"

"Mom," I cut her off, holding up a hand, "Forks is your home. I haven't lived at home in six years. You know why we're out here. Edward was offered a job in San Francisco—a good job—and I've always wanted to live in California. You know that."

"Owning a house is a lot of responsibility. I know you and Edward were fine out in Seattle for the past few years, but you were both so close. This is a fifteen-hour drive now!" She drops the empty cardboard box onto the floor, folding together the newspaper the plates were cushioned in. "And in your condition!" She shakes her head as though offended by the idea. "No, no. You'll have to come back to Washington, Bella. Edward will understand."

I couldn't help but to laugh until she began tearing up. And I thought I was the hormonal one. I put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her. "Edward is my husband, mom. I'm sure he's not going to understand my moving back to Washington because my mother is afraid to be far from the baby." I pause, moving to grab a tissue as her tears become heavier. Now I roll my eyes. "And I'm only two months pregnant. The baby isn't coming anytime soon."

Charlie steps around the front door, leading himself to the kitchen where I stand with my mom, trying to keep her from falling apart. He's carrying a few drawers from the bureau and sends me a look when he sees his wife, dabbing her eyes. "What now?" he grumbles.

"She wants me to move back home," I say.

His mustache twitches and I think he's stuck between amusement and annoyance. "Hon, we'll be here all week to help them settle in and then we'll be back when the baby's born. I'm sure they can handle themselves until then."

"But what if something happens?" my mother hiccups, stretching her hand out towards me. "What if something happens to the baby and I'm not here to help?"

I barely keep myself from blocking my ears but I can already see the panicked look on Edward's face as he comes out from the back room. He had been setting up the bed and he must have heard the commotion. His eyes swing from me, to my mom, and back. "What happened?" he asks, reaching me in two strides. His hand goes to my stomach. "The baby?"

I pull in a breath, trying my hardest to calm myself and not shout at my mother, but Charlie saves me and steers her away quietly, muttering something about finding the rest of the dishes in the truck. She lets out another sob on her way to the driveway.

I look up at Edward and he's watching me worriedly. Again, I roll my eyes. I already have to deal with him thinking something terrible is going to happen every second, and I'm barely even showing. The stairs, the car, the street, work, shopping, food—anything and everything is dangerous in his eyes right now. I push his hand away and then feel bad and wrap myself around him. "Nothing happened," I promise him. "My mom is just worried we're so far away."

"Should she be?" he asks. "We can go back to Seattle, if you want. Hell, we can go back to Forks."

I squeeze him tighter and bite my lip to keep from laughing. "And what? Lose all of the money we just put down on this place?" I look up at him, resting my chin on his chest. "Edward, we're going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Besides, your mom is only eight hours away. I like it here. I like this house. I like that we're in a different state. We can start with a clean slate, you know?"

He mumbles something, but his hand runs down my spine so I know the worst is over. For now. I grin up at him. "Is the bed finished?"

"Not yet. I still have to put up the headboard. Charlie's gonna help me pull in the mattress. Why, are you tired? Do you need to rest? The couch is in the living room—" I kiss him to shut him up. I can still hear my parents outside, so I know I don't have to be so chaste. It seems to distract him.

"I'm not tired," I whisper against his mouth, "but we need to have as much sex as we can before I get too fat to move."

His fingers move into my hair and he tilts my head back, kissing me harder. When he pulls away, we're both breathless.

"That's a pleasant thought," he says with a smirk, "As long as I can still spread your legs, I think we'll be okay." I laugh and he kisses me again until Charlie reappears with a gruff throat clearing. Edward pulls away but I hook an arm around his waist. You'd think after two years of marriage, Charlie would be okay with seeing a little PDA but I guess some things never change.

"Okay, let's finish with these last boxes, Ed. I gotta get Renée out of here before she has a panic attack."

Edward nods and follows Charlie out and I snort at his continued use of a nickname Edward has never liked.

I yelled at Charlie once, a couple of years back, for constantly calling him 'Ed', but Edward assured me that it was better than any nickname his own father had ever called him and that shut me up quickly. Besides, he doesn't seem to mind it coming from Charlie. Sometimes I think they have a better understanding of each other than I've ever had of either of my parents.

Speaking of his father, as we're lying naked in the bed, sheets that my mother had so carefully put on thrown to the ground, I glance surreptitiously up at Edward. He hasn't fallen asleep, but he's awful quiet.

I pull my head from his chest and rest on my elbow, staring down at him until he looks at me. "What?" he asks and I can tell by his tone that he knows I'm think something other than time for round two. Being pregnant has really sent me into overdrive.

"Have you given any more thought to letting your dad visit in the hospital?"

He frowns and rubs a hand over his face. I know it's still seven months away, but I'm curious. His relationship with his father has been rocky, at best. He hasn't picked up another beer in seven years, but Edward still seems skeptical. He had at least allowed him to visit us on a few occasions when we were living in Seattle. They tip toe around each other. It's like they're trying to mend their relationship silently.

"I don't know, Bella." He sits up and reaches for his boxers. I watch as he puts them on, concentrating on the movement of his toned back and I want him again. I crawl to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing my lips to his neck.

"We don't have to talk about it."

He shakes his head. "I don't mind him being there, but my mom will be there with Peter and they haven't seen each other in over a decade."

"The wedding…" I start, but he gives me a look and I know what it means. They hadn't interacted once at the wedding. They were all but strangers to each other.

"The birth is about you and the baby and me. I don't want to be keeping an eye on my dad and my mom and Emmett and Rosalie and making sure my dad isn't sneaking something in, and making sure my mom isn't watching him out of the corner of her eye, and making sure Emmett is okay with Peter being around…" he trails off and takes a breath, turning to pull me onto his lap. "I'm already worried enough about repeating the mistakes of my father. I don't want to be battling them the second the baby is born."

He stares at my stomach as though he can see his child perfectly and I love the adoration and worry on his face because it matches mine.

I pull his face to me and kiss him. "Listen to me. I have just as many concerns as you do, but I've never, not even once, contemplated whether you will turn out like your father. You know what you don't want to become and I know you'll be so attuned to how you're acting around this baby that there's no way even a piece of your father will slip out." His eyes move between mine and I can see the defeat there clearly. "I. Won't. Let. It. Happen."

He nods and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. "I love you," he whispers.

I pick up his hand, tapping the ring on his finger as he's done to me so many times and repeat the words he's said to me even more times than I can count. "That's what this means, right?" He smiles and kisses me. I lock my arms around his neck. "Does putting on your boxers mean we can't go again?"

I laugh as he pushes me back to the bed, covering my body with his.