Chapter 3

The life and love we create is the life and love we live.

Leo Buscaglia

The Past

Beth sits in an armchair, a damp tissue clutched in a death grip, another shaking hand on a paperback. How had her dinner date three days ago gone so wrong? They'd driven home in near silence. "This is my last goodbye," Mick had finally ground out.

There's a knock at the door. Half-heartedly, she rises to answer. Swinging it open, Beth sees a blue-suited Ben Talbot. His light eyes note her reddened ones with a frown. He takes in her swollen cheeks with a sigh and shakes his head. "You look awful."

"Thanks," she says flatly.

"Got the Solsburg report from Min." He waves a manila folder in his right hand. "You didn't answer my texts. I've been worried. I thought perhaps her 'Mint Surprise' cake didn't sit well? I'm still recovering"

Beth has called in sick for several days, not typical of her at all. With a nose for investigation to rival his pretty blond employee, Ben has taken it upon himself to check on her. "You okay?"

Pathetically, Beth nods. "I'm better."

He scans her tangled hair and frumpy tracksuit skeptically. "I'd say that's a lie. Maybe I can help?" he offers, inviting himself in.

The Present

It's impossible to tell how long he sits there, staring at Beth's face. Mick has wished so often for this moment that time is irrelevant. As minutes turn into hours, her breathing calms him. The beat of his heart slows to match hers.

Images from her thirtieth press along the walls of his mind in this relaxed state, finding cracks in which to wriggle free:

"I told you once I don't want to be what you are," she whispers in his ear. "Promise me you'll keep looking for a cure—and never make me have to decide."

With hooded eyes, he nods. Then, the silk that binds his present is cracked opened to reveal her lovely shoulder.

"I love you," Beth declares, pulling at the barrette; her fair waves cascading down.

He's there immediately. Fangs graze her collarbone, then break the skin of her neck. He hisses when his tongue catches an escaping drop. Teeth lengthen fully, as slow breaths become panting.

His eyes go pale with anticipation—and wariness. It feels wrong to cause her pain.

But Mick can't pull away.

He bites down and samples her blood.

Afterwards, noting his shameful motion to wipe off the evidence, Beth grabs his wrist and crushes him close in a deep kiss.

He is her life...past, present and future.

Dreams are interrupted by a female voice. "You're here."

Mick can't speak. He's rehearsed this moment in his fantasies. Now as reality, he's speechless. It's Beth who grabs his hand. Even after the caresses he's given her, he tenses and looks toward the door.

"It's alright," she soothes. "Don't leave."

"Why would you want me here? I left before," he manages. It's surprising his heart hasn't crushed under the burden.

"You can't be serious?" Mick scoffs at the Del Sol.

"I'm absolutely serious," Beth declares. "Make me like you. The same. No boundaries."

Mick's eyes narrow. He's played enough games with Josef to recognize a poker face. Lips tightening in a line, he broods. It's a long while before he finally speaks up.

"Tell me something…and," he heaves a sigh, "I'll do it."

"Anything."

"There'll be no family with me. It's too dangerous. And I can't say a cure will come. You may never have a baby with me. Not one, Beth. So, if turning is what you truly want, the risks tear me up, but I'll do it—if you can honestly say you can live without a child."

Beth chews her lip, as her heart plummets, and her mouth goes bone dry. She was so sure she'd be okay without a baby, but when given a hard line, it's her soul, not her biological clock, which protests. He's called the bluff she hadn't realized she was making. Beth feels sick, as her stomach churns, and her head spins. She does want a baby…someone else's if it must be, it doesn't matter…but a child at some point.

And, as easily as if she's spoken the words aloud, Mick reads them off her face.

"I've got to go," he tells her before an awkward ride home.

"This is my last goodbye, Beth," he says after leading her up the stairs and to her apartment.

But Mick doesn't leave. He stands upon an adjacent building top, as she presses her nose in the pages of Jane Austin. He watches her burst with tears when Talbot comes by, only omitting the uniqueness of a relationship with a vampire, as she spills out her heart. And, he stews as the other man wraps his arms around her, while she wails in anger and frustration.

Time moves on, months become years, Mick's fragile hope for a cure never comes, and a dream of a new beginning eventually dissolves. Beth moves into the arms of the attorney.

Still, Mick watches over her. It is he who first perceives a subtle transformation: differences in her scent, changes in her mood.

Shortly after, her heartbeat becomes two, confirming a miracle...and an obvious truth.

Their time has passed.

"I understand," she tells him gently. "You knew me better than I did. From ponytails to prom dresses, I had no idea how incredible it would be. So much pink. My daughter wouldn't wear any other colour!" She squeezes his hand tenderly, wishing she could pass along the experience. "Thank you," she says instead.

"I couldn't be what you needed," grunts Mick. He can't help but be bitter at the dice that were cast for him. This meeting has been a terrible idea. "You didn't need me, Beth. You did it all on your own."

Pictures on the walls taunt him with cutesy captions and colourful frames of Beth and Ben hiking in Peru and parasailing in Hawaii. The sweet couple bikes over the words 'Yellowstone Adventure'. A tiny photo Scotch-taped beside it reads 'Wipe-out in Wyoming'. Remarkably, Beth's laughing—at the cast around her leg.

Perched on a vanity, a mother laughs as she swings young Sarah. A wife beams while her district attorney husband is appointed as a judge. And, a teary-eyed grandmother kisses newborn Anna.

Beth has lived a life of warmth, enfolded by the familiar arms of her loved ones. Mick's been on the fringe, out in the cold, never to come in or let her know he's watched. He's wrapped himself in the arms of many (none of them he's cared for).

He can't escape the doubts that haunt him.

Should he have kept his promise? Was it even worth it?

Absolutely.

His obsession, his sole mission—has always been to give her happiness.

"Not true, Mick. You let me go, no matter how much it hurt you. It was the greatest gift. I loved you so much, and always will. I've missed everything about you," Beth tells him. "Everything about us," she revises.

He can't resist brushing her hair with his fingers but draws away sharply with pain and nausea.

Her final touch to Anna's hairstyle, holding a twisted knot of ivory, has been his grandmother's silver barrette.

"You're part of me," Beth tells him, pulling the clip from her hair. "And I'll never forget that." She places a kiss on the back of his hand. "Please. Stay. And talk."

He touches the kiss to his lips.

Mick's tried to stay close, just out of sight, in case she still needed him…

And tonight—she does.

The End