I remember the last time I spoke to him like it was yesterday. He'd come to visit me at Georgetown, where I was in the midst of law school. I hadn't seen either of my parents for months, and I was starting to feel homesick. He sensed that and hopped on the first flight out. In most instances, I'd prefer my dad to talk to in times of stress and loneliness, but for some reason, this time I felt more comfortable that it was just going to be the two of us. Dad was busy preparing the nursery for their second child, and with the due date about a month away, he wanted to stick close to home just in case complications arose.

We went out for a late brunch after he'd arrived and talked for what seemed like forever. Discussions of my dad's questionable health at the time, my insane workload, and the looming arrival of my little brother, yet to be named, Valentino, occupied our time. At some point during this discussion, I blurted out something that I had originally intended to keep between myself and my boyfriend until I was certain. I'd thought I was pregnant. (It turned out to be a false positive due to a faulty pregnancy test.)

Now, anyone that knows my pops and how he and my dad raised me would probably predict for him to flip out in some form or fashion, but he didn't. Instead, he took a long pause, looked me in my eyes, and asked me if I truly loved my boyfriend. When I replied that I did, his response was something that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

"All I've ever wanted for you in life, more than a college degree, more than all the money and stability in the world... Is for somebody to love you as much as I love your father."

As sweet as it was, I don't think I fully appreciated and understood what he meant until he was gone.

My parents didn't have the best relationship in the world, but one thing that they did have, and always had for each other was love. They were the kind of couple that you could appropriately use the hashtag #RelationshipGoals on and mean it. He was the type of guy that would go out of his way to make sure my dad was happy. I can't even begin to tell you how many times that man gave up his jacket just so he would be warm. I once saw him carry him up three flights of stairs just so he wouldn't have to wake him up, because he knew better than anyone how much he struggled with insomnia.

And as for my dad's relationship with him, he was literally the only person that could ever calm my pops down, whether it was because he was pissed off, or because of something else that I'm sure my father will get into later on. There was just something about my dad that made him capable of putting up with him when nobody else could. Maybe it's resilience, maybe it's a love that blinds, or maybe it's just a dash of craziness. Now that I think about it, it's probably all three. Either way, they were meant for each other.

It was that undying and everlasting love for my dad that was ultimately his demise, and would be the inspiration behind my brother's name. If you don't believe me, just look up the meaning of the name Valentino. I hope one day my brother will be able to look at this book; maybe not all the parts of it because there's some sections that I don't even want to know about our parents, and realize just how amazing and special a name he has.

Valentino Shane Cullen.

The book you're about to read didn't start out as a concept for a book at all. What it was, was my dad pouring his heart out and attempting to mend his broken heart after losing the love of his life. He was blaming himself for what happened, no matter how many times he was told not to. He wanted desperately to turn back time, to start from the beginning. That's what this was. Know that if this book happens to make you laugh, want to hit your head against a wall, or burst out into tears, those were all things my dad was doing as he was writing every single page of this wonderful, intense, fucked up thing they called their love story.

~ Written by Emma Cullen; daughter of Beau and Edward Cullen.