Hello people! Happy Holidays!

This is a short holiday fic I'm posting daily from Christmas Day until New Year's Eve, and it's my end of year gift to Team Momo.
I gave them all a break for this one, and left the red pen to Midnight Cougar.

But this goes out to Team Momo, and without them my stories wouldn't exist: hats off to Alice's White Rabbit, AGoodWitch, Driving Edward, Mel, Maplestyle, and Eternally Addicted.

As I suspected, the last chapter gained some strong reactions, and that was exactly the point. Choice is all well and good, until the definition of what that means for a person or a couple/family varies strongly among friends. Sometimes we're so stuck in what we want that we can't see other people may not want the same thing-think, if you will, of Canon Rosalie. She regretted losing the possibility of motherhood so much that she couldn't see how Bella, a child of divorce and a flighty mother, wouldn't necessarily WANT the same thing. Canon Rose held it against Bella for a long time, without refusing to see her side of things. And Rose here, who's paid a hefty price to be a mother, is a little stuck in her perspective as well.

Let's hear from CluelessWard, shall we?

Chapter 4

Thanksgiving 2019

~~Edward~~

Chitchat with my parents fills the drive back from LAX—we have a lot of catching up to do—but when we get to Venice Beach, the first stop is next door at Em and Rose's place.

For big gatherings like this, having them so close is fucking fantastic. Charlie's staying with them, while my parents are staying with us. Jazz and Alice are trying on for size the loft above her fashion studio, which has been freshly remodeled, but they're staying in Venice Beach tonight and tomorrow. Em's gonna have a full house.

"Bella had the stomach flu last week, you said?" Dad asks.

The doctor is in. It doesn't matter that we're busy dropping off bags, trying to get everyone situated before we crash the girls' baking party next door.

Charlie reappears from his quick pit stop and raises an eyebrow at my dad's question. "Bells is as healthy as a horse. That girl never catches anything, let alone the stomach flu."

I shrug. "She had a one-day stopover in New York before returning here—her Vanity Fair interview. She thinks it was the airport or plane food."

"Is it safe for her to be around Lily?" Em asks.

Happy-go-lucky Emmett has turned into a protective, cautious father. It's been quite the transformation to witness, sweet and endearing. And with an inevitable pang, it makes me think—when will it be my turn to be a disorganized, overprotective ball of fatherly anxiety?

Dad pats Em on the back reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry, Emmett. If it was food poisoning, it's not contagious. If it was stomach flu, these bugs normally run their course in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. By now, Bella wouldn't be any danger to the little miss either way."

Em nods. "Everyone ready to go? Jazz? Charlie?"

"We're all here, dear," my mom answers. At the patented Esme Cullen, heart-stopping "Mom" hug and smile combo, Em melts, his dimples in full display.

"Let's go, then. Bells promised cookies."

When I open the door to our house, a red-faced, crying Alice stops dead in her tracks in front of us, only to run away down the hallway toward the guest bathroom.

Jazz, who's been silent and jet-lagged so far, jumps into action. "What the fuck happened here?"

"I'm as in the dark as you are, J. Let's go find B and Rose."

"No. I'm going to check on my wife first." Tense expression, lips smashed into a thin line, and blond hair in disarray, he shakes his head, before walking off in Alice's wake.

The rest of us exchange puzzled looks, but decide to let Jasper deal with whatever it is.

In the kitchen, Rose and Bella are talking in hushed whispers, with their heads together. Rose sits on a bar stool, while my Bella stands, rocking Lily in her arms. The cutie pie is quite oblivious to the ruckus that has just rushed past her, but lights up and babbles away when she notices her father.

"Ba .. da .. ba .. dada!"

Em, the sucker, runs to steal her from his sister's grasp, and hoists her above him in the air. "You are so smart, Lillian Isabella. Almost as smart as your aunt, even if she's looking a tad green right now. Did you fart in Aunt Bella's face?" He asks his pint-sized partner in crime. Lily, however, doesn't pick up on her father's conspiratorial grin, and continues to chew on her fist.

Now that he's mentioned it, Bella does look a tad queasy when I look at her. "What's wrong, my lovely? Did Lily just—"

With her hand cupping her mouth, she steps aside, running to open the kitchen window. "No, but someone bathed in Eau de Douche today. What the hell, Em? New cologne?"

Em takes a sniff at his own shirt, puzzled look firmly planted on his face. "No, it's the same stuff I always use. Why?"

Bella takes a deep, cleansing breath with her head outside the window, then closes it and turns toward me. She's plugging her nose for good measure. "Are you sure?" She spits at Emmett.

"Yeah, sis."

"Please tell me you didn't bathe in it, Emmett." Rose chides him, taking the baby from his grasp.

"No. What's with all of you this afternoon?" He's sounding exasperated, and who would blame him?

I'm starting to question what's going on, too—starting with Alice's crying jag. When I walk over to Bella and take her in my arms, she melts into my side. "Did you just take a whiff of my shirt?"

"It's better than Eau de Douche over there," she rebuts.

I plant a kiss to her temple. "What happened with Alice?"

She sighs, her expression growing wistful. "That," she says, "is the difference between making a choice and living with it."

Cryptic. Must be an all-girls secret.

Now that should make Thanksgiving a whole lotta more interesting.

Tomorrow we'll have a little time jump.