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edward's POV

i was downstairs watching a TV show on TBS with bella for about 20 minutes before they cut to a commercial break. damn economy.

"so what have you been up to for the past 16 years?' i asked casually. she sighed.

"i've been waiting to do this." and she kissed me full on the lips. at first it was a small kiss, but soon it turned passionate. she pulled back to look in my eyes. i gazed back into hers, sad that she pulled away so soon.

"promise me something." she said. it probably was meant to come out as a question, but it sounded more like an order. a kind order though.

"and what would that be?" i murmured, stroking her face softly, and she suddenly turned serious.

"promise me that you'll never leave me or annabelle again. she's been asking about you for 16 years, wanting to learn every last thing about you, collecting photos of you. and if you leave, it'll crush her. and me." she said. i was astonished. i had no idea that bella was that serious.

"i promise you, i'll never leave again. i would never want to hurt either of you. and if i did, jasper and alice would rip me to shreds." i promised, making my tone sound light and joking at the end.

bella laughed. "good." and she crawled in my lap and kissed me again. we were like this for at least 5 more minutes before ipulled away.

"i should go up and check on our daughter." i said, putting her back next to me and kissing her cheek. i abbreviated the last part, it was important.

i walked up the stairs, and i heard silence upstairs. i walked into annabelle's room, and she was nowhere to be found.

annabelle's POV

i ran and hid behind my bedroom door, just before dad walked in. he looked around, and stepped in further.

he walked towards my desk, and i froze. i have a special desk in my room that is full of the memoirs of my life. i have personal photos, my journals, CDs of my music, school yearbooks, bags of collected blood (one of the many perks of having a nurse for a mother) and, the most personal, letters to dad.

when i first started asking mom about dad and she told me he left, i was really emotional about it. i cried those stupid venom tears every single night, i took days off school because they blinded me.

mom decided to send me off to a wackjob therapist, and she told me a good way to express my feelings about this was to write fake letters to him. mom thought it was an excellent idea, and she made me write letters to him from when i was 6 to 10.

and, unfortunately, he picked up the folder that said "LETTERS TO DAD" in huge letters. he opened it and picked out the very first one i ever wrote, the most embarassing one i'd ever written.

it was while i was still emotional about it, and i wrote things like "i hate you" and "how could you do this to us" and stuff like that, but, thankfully, when i was 14 and re-read them, i drew an arrow up to the margins where i wrote "forget it. i was 6."

i only wrote the things in the margins because, since i found out about dad, i never gave up hope that he would come back.

mom always said, "annabelle, i know you want him to come back, but he abandoned us. if he really cared about me or you, he'd be here." and she'd kiss my cheek and leave. shows what she knows.

i watched him carefully, searching for any sign of emotion when he read the letter. when he read the "i hate you" lines, he looked pretty hurt, but he followed the arrows and read my correction, and laughed.

after he read the letter, he put it in the folder, and put the folder away. he picked up another folder marked "mom" and opened it immediately.

he looked through pictures mom had given me of her school pictures, baby pictures, when she had me and everyone else, and with grandpa charlie and grandma renee.

he put that away, and picked up another folder. when he picked it up and i read the title over his shoulder, i slapped myself mentally. it was my "dad" folder.

he looked at every single picture in the folder that mom had given me for my 11th birthday. there weren't many pictures, but i had other things in there, too, like songs i had written for him over the years as mom told me more about him.

he put that down, and picked up one of my CDs and stuck it in my radio. my singing and guitar-playing filled the room. it was a song i'd written about mom and dad's romance (at least as much as mom told me) when they were together.

it wasn't much of a song, i wrote it when i was 10, and i used the guitar music from miley cyrus's "butterfly", and added my own lyrics.

after the song was over, dad took ou the CD an put it away, smiling. i decided it was time to intervene. it was time to try my idea.

i creeped forward as slowly and quietly as i could, and sprang on his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

he jumped, which made me crack up laughing. as soon as he heard who it was, he relaxed and laughed, too. he craned his neck to look at me.

"so do you still hate me?" he asked. i laughed and shook my head.

"give me a break, i was 6!" i said, kissing his cheek. "so you're forgiven."

he grinned and kissed my cheek this time. "you're really good at music. who taught you?" i just laughed.

"a nice little teacher named annabelle swan-cullen." i hopped down and flopped on my couch. he followed.

"really? wow, that's awesome!" he exclaimed, giving me a high-five. i giggled and groaned. he suddenly became alarmed.

"what's wrong?" he asked urgently, and i fake-punched his arm.

"uncle jasper bought me something. i HATE presents!" i groaned into the couch arm. he bust out laughing.

"what's funny?" i asked, and i waited at least 5 minutes until he caught his breath again.

"you are just like your mother." he choked out before going into another laughing fit.

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