Chapter 34: Living Our Happily Ever After
"What?" I asked stunned, trying to process what Alice just said.
"These things take time, Bella," Alice said defensively, disappearing from view. When I'd spoken with her in New York, she made me promise I would have a video chat when Edward and I landed in London, dodging my inquiries about why. "I wasn't sure things would turn out this way," she continued, "but I also knew there was distinct possibility." Her voice was muffled in with shuffling of garments and barely audible from the next room. I turned up the volume on my device.
"When?" I asked. My voice had no volume.
"What?" she asked, popping her head in the doorway of the fitting room of her studio.
I cleared my throat so I could speak louder. "When?"
Alice walked back into view toward the device. "The design came to me when you were in L.A. for the Premiere of Love of Ire," she said dismissively, shrugging her shoulders. "Now, before I show you the dress, I want you to know I do also have this dress without sleeves, lighter fabric, and a different neckline. This one wouldn't probably be very comfortable if you two decide to go somewhere hot to get married after all, but it should work for here this time of year. I do have a few back-up dresses I've designed too. But I think you'll like this one best out of them, it feels the most you to me," she prattled, her words picking up speed as she went.
Back-up dresses?
"And, of course, I don't want you to feel you have to go with any of them. I realize you might have a specific idea for what you want, so my feelings won't be hurt if you decide to do something else. I just thought I'd give you some options since I have them," she rambled, starting to sound nervous.
"Just show it to me, Alice," I interrupted, trying to quell the irrational panic bubbling up.
"Edward isn't in the room, is he?" she checked. Again. "Because he can't see this if you decide to go with it."
"No, he's in the shower," I assured her, wishing I were in there with him. "But at this rate, he'll be out before you finally show me," I admonished.
"Fine, fine, fine!" She sighed. "Just a second." She popped back out of sight. "All right, Makenna, wait until I tell you to step out," I heard her instruct, followed by more rustling of fabric, and a reply in assent. Then Alice was back in view, her attention on me. "Okay, I'll send you pictures too because it might not come through well over video chat—I don't know how clear the connection is for you. And remember, it'll look better on you because it was designed for you, using your measurements, so the fit will be better. Makenna's close to your size, but not quite." She threw a look at the screen.
I sighed loudly.
She stuck her tongue at me, but said, "Okay, Makenna."
The model walked into the room and I gasped. My hand flew to my mouth and tears pricked my eyes. I knew immediately there would be no need to show me any other option.
XXXXX
I stood in front of the full-length mirror at my soon-to-be parents-in-law's waterfront home on the Sound less than two weeks later—returning to Seattle only the day before. My hair was swept up in an intricate up-do with a veil appended to it, drifting down elegantly behind me. My make-up was kept light and natural but flawless. I was donning the wedding dress Alice had designed for me. It was the most beautiful dress I could have ever imagined—it was stunning in its simplicity. There were no embellishments added to the gorgeous, flawless, luxurious, rich, thick, silky-smooth fabric. Alice had told me the name of the fabric she used when I gasped in reaction to first seeing the dress in person and feeling the fabric, but I'd already forgotten what it was. The wide neckline crossed modestly along my chest but dipped low down my back. The unembroidered fitted sleeves were understated and elegant. The bodice hugged my curves, seamlessly transitioning to the skirt. The skirt's fabric flowed down, the hem sewn in a way that the edges waved gently back and forth in soft, elegant waves to the floor and back behind me with a short, subtle train. The delicate veil cascaded translucently and gracefully behind me as it trailed over the dress, finishing it off with a romantic feel.
Alice was hefting and adjusting the dress and veil into perfect position. The dress fit comfortably, shaping to me like a second skin so I didn't understand the fuss. But she wanted the dress to lay 'just so'—however that was, I didn't know, so left it up to her. I watched in the mirror as the skirt of the dress rippled under her adjustments, seeming to become fluid in the movements she made with its simple, understated design that looked as if it were an inverted calla lily.
I felt absolutely beautiful in it.
"There," she said satisfied. "You're officially perfect. And just in time." She glanced at the clock on the wall of the room. She smiled at me then pecked my cheek quickly and dashed out of the room.
My mother and Jess had just left a minute before when Esme came to gently remind them they needed to be seated. Esme had paused to look at me. I watched her eyes well up and managed to tell me I looked, "absolutely lovely," before stealing from the room. I was touched by her reaction, and grateful for her help in freeing me of the two of them. Mom and Jess' incessant chatter had been twisting my stomach into a knotted ball, and I didn't know if I could calm myself without a moment of quiet. Alice, with the assistance of Rosalie, had been molding both my dress and me, seeming set on perfection, promising to be right behind them.
Esme and Alice had spearheaded the wedding plans with Irena while we were gone. My mom and Rosalie—and to an extent Jess and Leah—helped where they could, but Alice was an unstoppable force of nature. I couldn't do much from where I was, even if wedding planning was something within my scope of abilities. Besides, they seemed to have been having the time of their lives, and I trusted their decisions so long as they kept the event extremely small. They kept me constantly in the loop, making sure Edward and I were okay with anything done, so much so I felt as if I were there with them anyway. Letting go of the planning reigns was a piece of cake.
Now only Rosalie remained in the room with me. She grinned, standing in her lavender dress that hugged her curves and cascaded gracefully down her body, which didn't yet betray her pregnancy she'd confided in me about. She and Emmett were waiting until after our wedding to tell anyone, not wanting their news to usurp our day. Rose couldn't keep something like that from me though, so Edward and I knew.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked. With everyone else gone from the room, her mask had dropped. I could see the nausea clearly on her face she'd done well to cover up until that moment. Perhaps that was a reason for her singular attention on me. She'd been using it to keep her mind off the nausea, and keep others from looking too closely at her to see through her mask.
"No," she admitted. "I've lost my damned mind." She blew out a steadying breath through her nose, keeping her teeth clenched tightly. She seemed to have recovered slightly, but dabbed at the dewy perspiration on her face with a tissue then turned to the mirror, assessing, and took another breath. "I don't know how he convinced me to do this. I swear I lose all sense of reason when it comes to that man."
I watched her reflection as she closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose; her mouth clamped shut again, fighting another wave of nausea.
"Sometimes I swear these Cullen men aren't actually human. We're not ourselves when we're in the same room as them, and agree to do the craziest things." She laughed once without humor and turned to face me, tossing the tissue into the waste basket. "Me, agreeing to this!" She waved her hand in the general vicinity of her stomach with an expression full of What the fuck! "And you, agreeing to this," she gestured toward me, in my wedding dress.
"Or maybe we're doing all of this," I offered, gesturing my hand between the two of us circularly, "because with them we know it's exactly right."
Rosalie rolled her eyes and shook her head. She took a cleansing breath, and swallowed, then paused to confirm she had control of her stomach again before turning toward me. She handed me my bouquet of mini calla lilies—complementing the design of the dress perfectly.
"You sure you're okay?" she checked, noting my trembling hands as I took the bouquet from her. "This is really quick, Bell. If you're having second thoughts, I can pull the car around and get you out of here." She looked at me, concerned, realizing I might not be as eager for this as I'd seemed.
I understood why, and it was the point she had been making a moment before. After James, I didn't think I'd have the courage to try the whole marriage thing again—not that I'd been so eager to do it in the first place. Then until Edward, I didn't really even do a relationship thing, thinking I'd run headlong the other direction from the word marriage for the rest of my life—it is exactly what I did when Tyler, my only relationship after James, began the slightest hint of it, after all. While admittedly, I did have a moment or two where I choked on my past as it reared its ugly head at me since starting our relationship, I was one hundred percent sure of Edward. The way he made me feel was nothing I'd ever experienced before. I didn't think feeling the way I felt for him was possible—at least not for me. Most of the time I felt I would almost burst from the want and love I had for him. And the way he looked at me made me sure he felt the same way in return. How could I run from that?
I let out a nervous laugh and shook my head. "No, definitely no second thoughts," I assured her. "I was just thinking about the fact that I'm going to have to go out there and everyone will be looking at me as soon as I walk out the door."
She laughed, relaxing now that she understood the silliness of my nerves. "There's barely anyone here," she reminded me. "It's just your immediate families plus a few friends, Bell. You had more people at the house for dinner when you guys moved into the house."
"Yes, but everyone wasn't staring at me then," I insisted.
"You can do it," she assured me. "Besides, as soon as you set your sights on Edward, I doubt you'll notice anything else." She arched her eyebrows, daring me to contradict her.
She had a point.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you this happy," she said seriously, her eyes intense with emotion, then shifted and I knew she was going to throw a jab at me. "But you two can be kind of hard to stomach sometimes, you know," she added, making a face.
I laughed, feeling the bundle of nerves start to slacken their vice grip on me.
"Are you good now?" she confirmed.
Better. I nodded and took a cleansing breath.
"Okay. Charlie is waiting for you just around the corner. I'm going to go take my seat, the music has started," she pointed out. "You really look incredible, Bella." Then she kissed my temple and swept out of the room.
I took a settling breath and joined my father by the door leading to the deck overlooking the Sound. Misty-eyed as he took me in, he secured my arm in his and choked a half-articulated sentiment, though all I caught was the word "beautiful" and my name.
"You sure?" He looked at me, serious.
I looked up into my dad's eyes, full of concern, love, and regret, feeling he failed me with not speaking up about James. I knew he didn't have the same concerns about Edward, though. He hadn't been rude or unaccepting of him, but his interactions with him had kept a bit of a bristled edge, and he continued to be on guard and a bit wary with him anyway—especially after the Tanya thing, which took a while for him to believe. He didn't want to be caught "lying down on the job" again, as he'd said.
"Without a single doubt," I promised.
He nodded, relaxing with my obvious certainty in Edward and a marriage to him, and smiled, satisfied.
Then he led me out of the Cullens' home, down the back deck to the lawn. There at the end of the steps was the top of the short path created for me that led to Edward.
We paused there at the top of the aisle that started at the bottom of the stairs of the deck and I took in the view. The path continued through the lawn before it reached a few rows of chairs arranged on a low platform sheltered under a canopy. The area was surrounded by standing heaters to keep the guests comfortable in an outdoor December wedding held in the northwest. The aisle ended in an open gazebo overlooking the Sound. Flower garlands draped and hung around it all, and everything not within range of the heaters was coated in fresh snow that fell early that morning giving the scene an air of magic. With the snow, I was grateful for Alice's forethought on the dress, I wasn't at all cold.
My breathing sped as I heard the murmurs and "ah"s of everyone's reaction as I came into view.
"I love you, Dad," I said, kissing his cheek. I barely registered my friend Angela, who I'd commissioned to take our wedding photos, capturing the moment. The pianist, nearly out of site, tucked on her own platform behind the gazebo, changed the music.
Everyone stood.
Instead of Wagner's March, or any other traditional song, it was Edward's; the first one I inspired for him when we met. The music seemed to propel my feet forward, toward all the people whose eyes were trained on me. Then, as my dad and I reached the first row of chairs, the song changed. There was a simple bridge as I passed our families then morphed into the song Edward first played for me not weeks prior when he proposed. Tears pricked my eyes. I was grateful my dad was leading the way—and waterproof mascara—because for a moment, I couldn't see. I blinked, dislodging the tears, barely noticing the audience of our families and closest friends, because I'd locked eyes with Edward who was waiting for me next to the officiant. I took a trembling breath, when I met the conquering, exultant expression he wore as he took me in. He looked how I felt when I looked at the devastatingly handsome man before me, who was impossibly far more incredible to know and be loved by, than he was to look at. I was astonished that this remarkable creature was somehow mine. He looked exactly how I felt; he was practically glowing, like he could almost burst from happiness.
My dad released me at the foot of the gazebo, trading me for my bouquet, and turned to take his seat. Edward took my hand, helping me navigate the two steps to get to him on the gazebo. As we took our places in front of the officiant, turning to face one another, both of his hands clasping mine, I stared into the depths of his eyes and he into mine.
I was home.
XXXXX
"Bella?" I heard Edward call entering our home in L.A. He'd gone to New York to meet with Demetri and Felix to work on some music. I had stayed in L.A. because I was working here.
I hopped down from the counter, made quick work of my task, washed my hands, and dashed to sit at the edge of the bed, impressed he didn't beat me to the bedroom.
"Are you home, love?" he called again just my phone vibrated with a message. I looked down; it was from Edward.
I'm home, love. When will I get to see you? I miss you. X
That explained how I beat him to the bedroom.
"In here," I called, my voice sounding off.
I heard him set down his phone, then the shuffle of his luggage being set aside, and head to the bedroom.
"Bella? Are you all right?" he asked, coming into view.
I took a breath, feeling my body relax automatically as I took in the sight of him. I nodded and swallowed hard, not trusting my voice.
"What's going on?"
I glanced at the alarm clock. Only a minute down. I had to stall a little.
"I'll tell you in a minute," I promised as he stood between my legs. He eyed me critically as I pulled his face down and kissed him. "Welcome home. I'm glad you're back."
"That's definitely a good thing." He smiled against my lips, his hands cradling my face, his thumbs tenderly stroking the sides of my face. "I'm glad to be back."
He kissed me once more then asked, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" He saw through me so easily. It was a wonder I hadn't given anything away before he left or while he was gone whenever we had spoken.
I stole a glance at the clock. Two minutes. That was long enough, right? Was it? I couldn't remember. It didn't matter. I couldn't wait regardless; it would have to be. I was relatively certain about this, but still butterflies violently assaulted my stomach. We'd had a few false alarms. But I waited this time to be sure. More than a week, I waited. Even still, I felt I was jinxing it—being too bold by not verifying it myself first—but I wanted Edward to be the first to know. I wanted to give that to him.
"I have something for you on the counter." I nodded in the direction of the master bathroom. "I think," I tacked on in barely more than a whisper.
His eyebrows pushed together in confusion and he cocked his head. "You think you have something for me on the bathroom counter?" He eyed my quizzically, trying to understand.
I bit my lip and nodded.
I watched his expression abruptly change as realization dawned. His chin lowered and he raised his eyebrows in question, asking for confirmation if it was what he thought.
"I don't know for sure," I confessed, words rushing from my mouth, not wanting him to bank on it as a sure thing in case I was wrong. "I haven't checked. I think so, but I wanted you to be the first one to know for certain—if I'm right."
The suspense was killing me. It had taken everything in me not to check for this long. Knowing the answer was only steps away right now was practically torture.
I had intended to send him in alone, but without a word, he grabbed my hand and towed me off the bed, pulling me behind him into the bathroom. I diverted my eyes past him to the shower as we approached the counter and he peered down. A beat passed, and I nearly caved to look.
He exhaled sharply. I didn't know how to interpret it. Did it mean I was right? Did it mean I was wrong?
My eyes darted to his face. He looked back at me; his eyes welled up with emotion. Panicked, I glanced down, but I couldn't see what it said; fearful tears blurred by my vision.
Edward pulled my face to his, cradling firmly but tenderly, and kissed me soundly, full of feeling, though what feeling I still didn't know. Joy? Sorrow? Which was it?
Panic raced through my body.
He pulled back, and I blinked the tears from my eyes. It was then I took in the proud, exultant, glowing expression he wore—the same expression he had the day we wed. My eyes widened. I felt the breath I was holding release, panic ebbed, and a tentatively hopeful smile pulled at the corners of my lips.
"Congratulations," he said, his voice thick with feeling.
"Yes?" I asked, nodding uncertainly, eyebrows raised, still not quite believing.
He swallowed. "Yes," he breathed, and kissed me again. Then he trailed his hands down my stomach, stooping down and planting a tender kiss between my hips. Gently, he placed his hands over my lower abdomen, staring in wonder at something we couldn't yet see. My hands tangled in his unruly hair as he lingered there for a moment, shock slowly released the buffer it had around my emotions, and it began to sink in.
Edward looked back up at me then stood.
"I love you," I breathed, blinking away tears, my hands sliding along the sides of his jaw.
"I love you too," he replied, full of pride and awe, and completely radiating love. He kissed me, sending a familiar thrill coursing through my being, and led me to the bedroom.
XXXXX
"Bella!" Edward breathed; his voice thick with a mixture of worry and relief when he entered my room.
"Hey, buddy, Daddy's here," I whispered to the baby suckling at my breast, feeling better now that Edward was there. The feelings of anxiety, abandonment, and fear didn't go way, but seemed less severe with Edward next to me, as if he had taken and shouldered some of it on himself for me.
He crossed the hospital room, reaching me at the bed in no time, and kissed me firmly. Then, his attention was diverted to the tiny creature in my arms. He planted a gentle kiss on his temple and softly ran his fingers along the crown of his head.
"He's okay?" he asked. Panic still coloring his voice as he looked us over. "You're okay?"
"We're both fine," I assured him, scooting over to make room for him.
"Where's Carlie?" he inquired about our two-year-old daughter, panic in his voice still not settled.
"With Alice and Jasper," I assured him.
Alice and Jasper were living in L.A., so Alice had been checking in on me the last weeks while Edward was away. She and Jasper were already planning to watch Carlie for us when we had the baby. With Edward traveling, she was my contingency plan to accompany me in the delivery room. So when I was sure labor started before Edward was due back, I called Alice after I called Edward. Alice stayed with me through the whole thing while Jasper took care of Carlie. She'd just left about an hour before to get some sleep. They were going to bring her to the hospital later today to meet her baby brother—something she was extremely excited about.
"Come here," I instructed, scooting over in the bed. He hesitated, then carefully settled by my side.
"I can't believe I wasn't here, that I missed it," he castigated himself under his breath, putting one arm tightly around my shoulders, the other stroking his fingers along our son's face and hair. "Bella, I—" He stopped, spotting the wires leading out of the baby's blanket, noting things around us. "Why does he have all the wires? What is that thing?" He asked, nodding to a machine on a tray next to the bed. "Why are you on an IV?" Alarm in his voice more pronounced with each question he asked. "Is that a baby oxygen mask?!"
"Edward. Breathe," I said, somehow winning power over my own panicked feelings. I wondered fleetingly if there weren't something more than fluids in my IV. Feeling the baby slacken his grip on my breast with sleep, I released him and pulled my gown back into place.
"He's a little early is all," I started, stating the obvious in an effort to talk him down.
Our son was three weeks early; early term versus pre-term, though barely. Edward had been gone doing a string of interviews and press junkets. I couldn't travel this late in the pregnancy, not that I would have been able to travel with the light bedrest restrictions my doctor had put me on anyway after I'd gone into labor six weeks early. It had been scary but things had settled down with the pregnancy after the doctors stopped the contractions, so I all but kicked him out of the house to go on the press tour he was contractually obligated to do. It had been awful not being able to pick up our toddler daughter who just wanted her mom to carry her and didn't understand why I couldn't. And it had been miserable with Edward away, but he needed to do his job and there wasn't anything he could do for me at home. Edward was going to be back the following week, Irena finagling a more rigorous schedule for him so he could shove it all into as short of a time as possible in order to be back in plenty of time before the due date. We just weren't anticipating it would be quite so early.
"Here, meet your son," I said with a smile, shifting the baby into Edward's arms, careful to move the wires so they didn't pull in the process. I knew he'd feel better holding him. It had definitely worked with me.
"He's so tiny," he remarked. He was, even with the added bulk of the blankets wrapped around him. The baby weighed only five pounds fourteen ounces, a two-pound difference from that of his sister who arrived a week late at seven pounds twelve-and-a-half ounces.
The machine chirped abrasively as we shuffled him. Edward froze, his eyes anxiously shifting between our son, the machine, and me. I placed my hand on Edward's shoulder to reassure him and watched the numbers on the machine, which had dropped, quickly recover and the sound stopped.
"It's fine," I reassured him.
A nurse popped her head in rubbing in hand sanitizer she'd just squirted into her palm.
"We moved him is all," I explained to the nurse. She walked to the machine and checked the readout and the connections on the lead both on him and the machine to be sure.
"How is he doing?" she asked, in the detached caring fashion of medical staff. She walked around the bed to Edward's side and pulled the layers of blankets swaddling the baby to the side and stuck a thermometer under his arm.
"Good," I replied. "I just fed him."
"No issues latching?"
"No. He's not pulling very strongly yet," I admitted, "but he latched just fine."
"That's good he's latching though; he'll get better. Did it seem like he was getting anything?"
"I think so, yes."
"Good, that's what counts." She pulled the thermometer from under the baby's arm and checked it. "His temperature is good too," she said satisfied. "Looks like he escaped the incubator after all, but keep the blankets on him." She walked around, checked my IV. "I'll check on you again in a bit," she said as she departed.
I returned to Edward's questions he desperately wanted answers to.
"Yes, that's a baby's oxygen mask. His oxygen level was low when he was born, so they gave him oxygen for a while." I thought it best to provide him a summary before going into detail about the scary moments where he came out so pale he was blue and didn't cry, and how they quickly cut the cord and whisked him across the room with a half-dozen medical staff hovering over him for the better part of an hour. "The machine that just let out that annoying sound, and the wires he's attached to, is monitoring his oxygen levels to make sure it stays up, but he's been keeping it over 90—which is what they want." I looked at the machine, happy to see it continuing to deviate only as low as 97, and stay pretty consistently at 99 and 100 now.
"I have an IV because I'm a little dehydrated."
He eyed me speculatively.
I hesitated. "I've been throwing up this last week."
"Bella," he admonished.
I'd told him I hadn't been feeling well, but didn't tell him how sick I'd been; knowing all it would do would worry him. I knew there wasn't anything he could do from where he was, and there wouldn't have been anything he could have done if he would have come home.
"The good news is I've felt fine since delivering. It was reflux causing the nausea and vomiting, so I wasn't actually sick, which is good," I pointed out. "The medication they'd given me a few days ago had begun to work. I really think the IV is overkill," I added, then moved on. "They are checking his temperature because he doesn't have a lot of baby fat to keep him warm, so they have him in a couple blankets to help keep up his temperature. They had him in a warmer for a little while right after I delivered him, but they decided pretty quickly it really wasn't necessary.
"They gave him a little formula after he was born because they wanted some fluid in him right way too. But he's proven he can nurse without issue, so they probably won't have to do that again."
"I can't believe you had to go through this alone," he said, angry at himself.
"I wasn't alone," I comforted him. "Alice stayed with me while I had him; she only just left."
"I shouldn't have been so far away. I should have been here," he berated himself, shaking his head as he stared down at the baby asleep in his arms.
"Edward," I said softly. He looked up at me, his face full of remorse. "There wasn't any way you could have known he was going to arrive so early." He started to interrupt, but I stopped him. "You couldn't have known," I repeated firmly. "I know you wanted to be here when he was born. I wanted you here too. But it didn't work out that way. There isn't anything you can do about it. You got here as quickly as you could. Your son was just a little eager to meet everyone." I stroked Edward's tired, unshaven face. He looked like he could use sleep as badly as I could.
He took a deep breath and nodded, though I knew I hadn't eased any his guilt.
"We haven't landed on a name," he pointed out after a few minutes marveling at our son.
"Not officially, I guess. But I kind of thought we had," I hedged.
He breathed a laugh. "Well, yes. Though I have honestly been waiting for you to come up with some sort of unique name or mashup like you did for Carlie," he admitted.
I chuckled. Edward had suggested Carly for a girl's name. I liked it, agreeing it was a frontrunner, but though I liked the idea of spelling it with an "ie" instead of a "y" so it would be like a combination our fathers' names together. Edward, quickly agreed, amused by my suggestion.
It took him a little while longer to agree to my next suggestion, which was a combination of our mothers' names—Renesmee. I didn't think he believed I was serious when I first suggested we name her Renesmee Carlie. To be honest, everyone thought we were pulling one over on them when we first told them. But it didn't take long and the name grew on him. He started talking to my stomach, asking what she thought of the name. Then he started addressing her as Renesmee whenever talking to my stomach. We still named her Renesmee Carlie, but when she was born, she looked so much like a Carlie to me, that we have always called her by her middle name.
"Well, they're not quite so unique this time, it's true. But I still really like the name. Even though it could get confusing calling him by either name, I suppose."
"I do too," Edward agreed. "Hello, Edward Jacob," he cooed to our son. "You gave us quite the fright," he added. A moment passed as we enjoyed the peaceful moment watching baby Edward sleep. "What if we called him 'EJ'?"
I smiled and nodded as I looked down at our son. I liked it. It seemed to fit him rather perfectly.
XXXXX
"Mommy! Com'ere! Mommy! Mommy! Watch this!" Carlie, our three year-old daughter, commanded to me, running into the living room from Edward's music room—well, music studio—in our new home in L.A. We sold the condo when EJ was on the way. We bought a house because we outgrew the condo, but also because we wanted a place where the kids could have a yard to play in and run around. It was a modest home—comparatively speaking for the area, at any rate. I didn't want something grand; I wanted something homey, and for L.A., it was about as close as I could get.
It was a lazy, late Sunday morning. We'd just finished breakfast and were making a relaxing day of it, staying in comfy clothes, not planning to set foot outside the house.
I set down my book, took a quick sip of my coffee, and rose to join them. Carlie ran ahead of me.
"All right, I'm watching," I promised with a smile as I came around the corner and stood in the doorway, seeing the three of them. Edward sat on a chair with his guitar and flashed me an amused smirk that melted my insides. Carlie jumped and clapped at my presence—excited for her audience. EJ gave a squeal of joy and a drool-covered grin as he waved a drumstick he clasped with both of his pudgy nine-month-old hands. He sat on the floor with an array of non-choking-hazard noise-making instruments surrounding him within reaching distance. I flashed him a silly face and he giggled.
Carlie ran up to Edward. She lifted her hand and paused to check to make sure I was looking at her again, and then looked at Edward waiting for his instruction.
"Are you ready?" Edward asked her.
She nodded eagerly, lightly bouncing up and down in her excitement.
"Okay." He nodded.
Carlie ran her fingers across the guitar strings while Edward held a key.
She giggled.
EJ discarded the drumstick in favor of a small, leather-stretched drum. He banged on it, producing a muted, un-rhythmic beat, having the best time of his little life.
Edward moved his fingers to a different key. Carlie quickly ran her hand down the strings again with a splitting grin. Edward watched her with amused adoration, breathing a laugh.
After a few more notes, the stanza complete, Edward released the guitar and grinned at our daughter, ruffling her curly bronze hair that was a shade lighter than his.
I clapped, cheering her performance, and Edward joined. EJ, not understanding why we were clapping, joined in too.
"Yay!" I said, grinning at EJ. "Great job, Carlie!"
She scrunched up her little shoulders then wriggled and twisted her body in excitement, giggling, and joined in the clapping too.
"Again, Daddy?" she asked, jumping up and down. EJ abandoned his instruments and crawled toward me. I stooped to pick him up, settling him on my hip.
"Ready?" he asked with a wide grin, his hand holding a key.
She nodded elatedly and ran her hand across the guitar strings. Edward laughed at her exuberance, having just about as much fun as she was.
EJ babbled nonsense words, telling me all sorts of stories as I watched Edward play the guitar with Carlie. A few minutes later he pulled a small, child-sized guitar from the shelf. Carlie settled on his lap and he began to show her how to position her fingers for a key. I laughed as she excitedly learned the first, squealing in delight when she strummed the strings, but quickly grew frustrated and bored, sliding off his lap. She instructed Edward to pick up his guitar. This way she got all the fun of running her hands over the strings to produce the sound and he did all the work holding the keys.
Edward glanced up at me in shared amusement at our daughter. Then his expression shifted as he looked at me, and I could feel my insides ignite and liquefy in tandem with want and love for me evident in his face. I bit my lip, grateful it was nearly naptime for the kids, so we'd get some time alone soon, and smiled at him. In response, he set down the guitar, stood, picked up Carlie and told her they could play later, but right now, it was time for a nap, as if reading my mind.
Complete contentment and overflowing happiness filled me as we settled the kids in their beds. This life I had with Edward was not normal, nor was it without its challenges and obstacles, but it was the life I was meant to have. I could feel it was true down to my core and I couldn't ask for anything more. I had a husband I loved, and who loved me just as passionately in return. We had two healthy and happy children, and on top of that we had great family and friends. I never could have imagined a life so wonderful and perfect for me to have existed not so long ago.
Once the kids were settled, we snuck off to our bedroom.
Edward wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against the closed door, kissing me hard, full of love and want. And when he broke the kiss to look at me, the expression of awe and wonder told me he felt exactly the same way about me and our life together as I did, and then he carried me to our bed.