Hey all! We're almost done, so I need to think of a new story and quick!

Maybe I'm wrong,
But I'm feeling right where I belong
With you tonight
Like being in love
To feel for the first time

"First Time"- Lifehouse

"So, what's your favorite food, Amber?" Sophie was posed in front of the blonde woman, a small notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. Sophie watched her guardedly, her brown eyes flashing as Amber stared back at her.

"What?" She asked. Of course she'd heard the question, she simply didn't understand why Sophie wanted to know so badly. The child had spent the last two days running around the house, scribbling in that damn notebook. Amber hesitated, "What are you doing all this for, again?"

Sophie sighed exasperatedly, dropping her hands to her side.

"I told you, it's a school project. We have to find out as much about the people living in our house as we can." She raised her notebook again, watching her. Amber arched an eyebrow at her.

"Uh, okay. Well, I guess my favorite food is spaghetti." She answered casually, then glanced back down at the magazine she'd been reading.

"Spa-ghe-tti," Sophie sounded out each syllable, scribbling it down before glancing back up, "Okay. What's your favorite flower?"

Amber glanced up again, her eyes studying Sophie's expectant face.

"Flower?" She asked, blinking. Sophie nodded slowly.

"Yes, flower. What's your favorite?"

Amber's mind reeled. That word alone always reminded her of the first date she and Corny had gone on; when they'd taken Sophie to the zoo. They had picked her up at her apartment, and he had handed her a bouquet of white lilies. They had been fresh and she'd placed them in a vase of water; by the time she'd returned home later that evening, the entire apartment had smelled of them. She'd gone to sleep that night thinking of those white lilies, and knowing that each time she thought of them, she would think of Corny, and all the happiness he had brought her from that very moment.

"Lilies," she answered after a brief pause, "Lilies are my favorite flower."

Sophie, of course, did not remember the lilies. She had been five years old at the time, and surely didn't understand the significance of those flowers. She remembered the monkeys in their cages, eating cotton candy until she'd been sick at her stomach, but she didn't remember those lilies. Sophie scribbled the word, then nodded affirmatively.

"Okay," she sighed nonchalantly, then glanced up at Amber. "Hey, don't you have a doctor's appointment today?" She scrunched her small nose up, "Do you finally get to find out if the baby is a boy or a girl?"

Amber glanced toward the clock, suddenly hurried, and nodded.

"Yes, and I'd better go, I almost forgot about that." She stood and rushed into the living room, grabbing her purse from a chair and throwing it over her shoulder. "Tell your daddy I'm leaving, okay?"

"Okay!" Sophie called back, watching her and waving as she pushed her way out of the house and onto the front porch, then the hallway. "Be safe!"

Amber smiled softly at her as she got into the car, her belly nearly brushing the steering wheel.

"Be safe," Amber repeated softly, watching the child.

Amber hated visiting the doctor. She was no longer resentful of the child growing inside of her; that wasn't it at all. Now, more than anything, she just hated waiting. Waiting to get into the office, waiting for the doctor to join her in the room. Waiting to hear if the baby was healthy, waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting for the baby to be born, waiting to take it home from the hospital, waiting to be a single mother. It was all beyond comprehension for her.

It wasn't beyond unbearable waiting alone, though. The other women in the waiting room with her had husbands who worked, and so Amber would pretend she was in the same boat as they were. They all knew her, of course; she was somewhat of a celebrity in their hometown, after all, and they knew that she had been engaged to Corny. And so, out of ease or necessity, she let them believe that she still was, and none of them were any the wiser for it.

The doctor had been concerned for her health, of course. He was worried about the fact that she'd starved herself for quite some time, and amniocentesis had been necessary to determine the baby's health and gender. She hung her head, immensely guilty as she felt the needle slipping into her skin. This would, of course, not be necessary if it hadn't been for her selfishness, though there was nothing she could do about that now. It felt cold and sharp inside of her and she held her breath, attempting to keep as still as possible so that the needle would not slip and puncture any part of her it wasn't meant to. She closed her eyes then, her fingers curling into tight fists as she suddenly wished that there was someone here with her, to hold her hand.

It wasn't until she was driving home from her appointment that she let her mind begin to run through names for this baby; girl names. She couldn't exactly say why, but there was an overwhelming feeling inside of her that this baby was a girl. She wouldn't find out for a few days yet, but she didn't need any proof to be sure about this. She was going to have a daughter; she was sure of that. Anna, Elizabeth, Christine. No, none of those names were special enough. They were beautiful, certainly, but they were not enough for this baby. Those names were not big enough to express Amber's feelings for it. They were not enough to suit this child; this child that had literally changed every aspect of her life. Amber needed a man that meant something; one that would withstand the many hard times that she was sure laid ahead of them.

She smelled it as soon as she walked into the front door of the house, and the stinging memory brought tears to her eyes. Lilies. She would recognize that scent anywhere; she'd pressed one of the flowers in that bouquet Corny had given her, and even after its petals had dried, she would still open that book of memories she'd saved it in, and she would smell it. This house definitely smelled of lilies, but there was something else; another scent that seemed to be battling against the flowers to take over. She sniffed again, allowing her purse to fall onto the couch. It was…tomato sauce?

She pushed through the living room and into the empty kitchen, then through another door and into the dining room. Sophie was standing quietly beside the table, folding a napkin, her eyes focused on the white linen tablecloth.

"What's going on?" Amber wondered the words and Sophie turned suddenly, her eyes lighting up, a grin playing across her features.

"Oh, good, you're home!" She rushed toward her suddenly, grabbing for her hand and pulling her towards the table, nearly pushing her into the empty chair. "Sit. I'll be right back."

Amber sat as she was told, her eyes falling across the table. A bowl of spaghetti sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by unlit candles and, just as she'd assumed, a vase of white lilies. Amber felt her face flush as she studied the empty chair across from her. Oh, no. What had Sophie done? This could only possibly mean one thing.

"Daddy's here!" Sophie called joyfully, pushing him into the room and into his chair, taking a step back and grinning at them as they sat watching her dumbly. Sophie placed her hands on her hips, looking between them. "I didn't light the candles, because I'm not allowed to play with matches." She looked pointedly at Corny, then apologetically at Amber. "And I'm sorry I lied about asking you questions for school. I just had to do something, though."

"You did this?" Corny asked, somewhat incredulously, "What about the food? You're not allowed to cook."

"I didn't!" Her eyes grew wide, "Miss Maybelle helped. She helped me with the flowers, too." She pursed her lips together, watching them. "And I'm going to my room. Be nice to each other. Daddy, ask her about the baby. Amber, don't talk about you-know-who." She was gone a moment later, leaving them in a rather stricken silence, Amber staring down at the empty dish in front of her. She clenched her hands into nervous fists on her lap, her face flushed and warm.

"I didn't know this was what she was doing," Corny explained, almost apologetically, and Amber shook her head.

"No, no. It's fine." She swallowed hard, then finally allowed herself to look towards him. "I think she's too smart for her own good."

He nodded, forcing himself to chuckle softly.

"Yeah, I think that's a safe assumption." He cleared his throat, then reached toward the bowl of spaghetti between them, "Here, have some." She shifted slightly, allowing him to dish some noodles onto her plate before giving himself some. She swallowed again, then forced herself to pick up her fork, twirling the noodles around its prongs aimlessly.

"She's tired of us fighting, isn't she?" Amber asked. The words were stupid; of course she was. For as long as Sophie could remember, they'd been at each other's throats, though usually, there had been a different type of passion between them.

"Ah," he sighed after a moment, his eyes brushing the table before moving to look up at her, "I think it's more that she's tired of us being indifferent."

There was silence between them for a moment, and Amber felt herself beginning to cave. She wanted to tell him that she missed him; was miserable without him. She wanted him to know that she wanted him back, that she wanted to be allowed back into his bed. She wanted him to kiss and rub her swollen belly, wanted to know that she would still be loved when she was through carrying his child. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Listen, Amber." It was a good thing that he cut her off. Her words would have been jumbled and misunderstood; she was no good at saying the things that needed to be said. "I think we need to talk."

Of course they needed to talk. She swallowed hard, nodding a little, her blue eyes hooked on his.

"Okay." Her voice was small and frightened. "Yeah, me too."

He smiled at her softly for a moment, and her heart picked up speed. Her stomach fluttered, and if only for a moment, she assumed it was nothing more than butterflies. Even now, after all these years, he could give her butterflies, even without meaning to. She tilted her head slightly to look at him, and her stomach fluttered again. She pushed back from her chair suddenly, her eyes dropping to her stomach, her hands instinctively curling around the bump there.

"Oh my God!" Her voice was high and shrill, and Corny's eyes widened, pushing his chair back in a panic, watching her unexpectedly.

"What?" His voice was worried, "What is it, Amber? What's wrong?"

She pressed her fingers to a spot in the lower part of her abdomen, then felt a rush of heat to her face. Her lips curled into a smile, and she glanced up at him, grinning wildly.

"It kicked, Corny. The baby is kicking."

A flustered grin spread across his lips and he took a step forward before pausing, watching her unsurely. She watched his fingers curl into fists, and let her eyes raise to meet his.

"Come feel it. Please." Her words were more than an invitation to press his fingers along the curves of her belly; they were asking him to love her again. He was however, she assumed, too excited, too caught up in the moment to realize the double meaning of her words, and he was beside her in a moment. She reached out for his familiar hand, curling it in her fingers and holding it just a moment too long before directing his touch to the spot on her belly, pressing two fingers gently against the area. It was another moment, both of their hands pressed against her stomach, her eyes watching his face, before there was another ripple below the skin. His eyes lit up suddenly, and she felt laughter rippling through her at the sensation.

"That's amazing," he smiled at her, his fingers not moving from the spot, "How long has this been going on for?"

She pressed her lips together in a light smile, rather reluctant to allow him to move his hand from her skin. She felt breathless suddenly, almost giddy in her excited state.

"This is the first time," she told him honestly, nodding quickly, "The very first time."

She continued to hold his fingers in their place for another few moments, but the movements had ceased. He pulled his hand away, almost reluctantly, but stayed close to her. He was bent over her now, almost kneeling, but not quite. Her eyes brushed his lips, and she swallowed, attempting to avert her eyes, but there was no use. No, she could not deny this moment. She could not pass this opportunity to do what she'd wanted to do for so long, and so, without hesitation, her hands slipped up, cupping his face and pulling him to her, kissing him gently and without any of the awkwardness that had surrounded them for so long. She covered his lips, closing her eyes and sighing, knowing that this was how it was supposed to be between them. There was not meant to be space between them, or hostility or anger. Her lips were supposed to be against his, his fingers running through her hair. Still, at this moment, his hands rested motionlessly against the side of her chair, holding himself up as she kissed him. He was making no movement to pull away, or to stop her, but at the same time, he wasn't returning the kiss.

She paused, taking a breath, pulling her face slightly away from his, letting her eyes raise guiltily to meet his. He sucked his lower lip in, digging his front teeth into it before taking a slight step backwards.

"You were the one who ended us, Amber," his voice came out of the silence after a moment.

"I know," she answered him quietly, still looking at him, "but maybe I made a mistake." There was no doubt in her mind that she had, but she had thrown that in for Corny's sake, just in case he didn't think it was a mistake.

His eyes were locked on hers, but his blink broke their contact and he averted his gaze from her.

"Maybe isn't really good enough for me," his words were soft and low, not sarcastic or mocking. He stood for a moment before returning to his seat across the table from her casually, as if nothing had just occurred between them. He let himself twirl the spaghetti on his fork, then looked up at her again, meeting her questioning gaze. Slowly, he slipped his hand across the table the table, palm up, toward her. She watched his hand, his long, thin fingers reaching out for her, and smiled gently, slipping her hand over his, their fingers resting perfectly against each other.

"Let me know when there's no more maybe in that head of yours, okay?" He smiled gently at her, and she felt her face blush.

There was no more maybe in her head, but she knew what he was asking. He wanted her to wait, wanted to make sure this wasn't because she was lonely or desperate. Wanted to know that she had thought about him before she made any rash decisions on their behalf. He didn't know how much she thought of him.

"Okay," she nodded, smiling a little.

They began to eat, then, unlit candles and lilies between them on the table. Spaghetti sauce splattered the tablecloth; there was no sound save the clinking of their forks against their dishes, but their hands continued to hold each other, casually and as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Both of them silently wondered if the other remembered that they had done the same thing, hold hands like this during dinner, on the night that they both realized they'd fallen in love with each other.