A/N: I don't own what you recognize. Please keep reviewing; it means the world to me.

You know how sometimes you find yourself agreeing to do something that you don't really want to do but you agree to do it because you feel like you have to?

Yeah, that was how George and I felt about our Christmas 2012 plans. We were going to England to spend two weeks with his family. Now, we love his family, and we were looking forward to seeing them and introducing them to Elinor. His mom was the only person from the Knightley family who had actually met our darling girl, and I couldn't wait for the rest of the family to meet my baby.

But I was NOT looking forward to spending eight or nine hours on an airplane with a baby. There was no way on earth Elinor was going to sleep for that long. She didn't believe in sleeping for more than four hours at a time. Betsy's mother-in-law said that Benadryl would be my best friend, but I was terrified of that idea. "Fortunately," Betsy told me over coffee in mid-December. "Ellie is still young enough that you can nurse her during the flight. If you feed her periodically, it will help."

"Is that what you did?" I asked. Mark's family lives in Minnesota, and the previous summer, Mark and Betsy had flown with four-month-old Natalie to visit his family.

She nodded. "I mean, St. Paul is a lot closer than London, but it's the same concept. And you know how much Ellie likes to eat."

I laughed. "My little chunk, she apparently inherited that from her mother."

Betsy shook her head. "You're losing weight. I don't see why you're so concerned about your weight."

"I was always the chubby Woodhouse sister," I replied with a sigh. "Everyone always made sure that I knew that I was fatter than Cassie and Bella. I know that I'm not fat, but I was bigger than them. And now, I'm squishier than normal."

"Does George mind?" Betsy asked with a twinkle in her eye.

I laughed. "Not a bit, he says I've never looked better."

"Then don't overanalyze it. Don't complain. Just take it. Sure, work on losing weight, but if you've got George Knightley worshipping the quicksand you walk on, take it and don't worry about it. Just enjoy it."

Betsy was not the only person to suggest that approach to me. Even though not everyone (Hattie and Hannah, for example) agreed that George was sexier than Hugh Jackman, they agreed that if he loved me, I couldn't really complain. "Everybody just wants to be loved," Hattie told me.

"That sounds like a song," I replied flatly.

"Maybe it is, but that's not the point. The point is that everyone wants what you have and you don't seem to appreciate it enough. You have a man who adores you and your baby, and you only just love him."

"Yes, I love him," I said. "I love him, and we're married and we have a kid together and we're going to have more kids. What else should I do?"

"Worship him," she swooned.

I rolled my eyes. "I can't worship George. He'd hate it. And furthermore, it's against my better judgment to worship anyone."

"But he's George freaking Knightley. He's awesome."

"And he's my husband who burps and farts as he feels the urge."

Hattie sighed. "See, there you go again. You treat George like he's just another person."

"He is just another person."

"No, he isn't!" Hattie protested. "He's a god among men."

"Who hogs the blankets in the middle of the night," I replied flatly. Understand this, dear readers, I love my husband dearly. Nothing will change that. But that love doesn't keep me from wishing that he wasn't such a blanket hog or that he wouldn't fart in the middle of an episode of Downton Abbey.

We went to England for ten days. Naturally, everyone loved Elinor. She didn't love the airplane, but we all survived with most of our sanity in tact. She also wasn't crazy about the time change, but we couldn't help that. And she adjusted to it reasonably well.

After our return from England, George began looking for a house for us. This was exclusively a George mission because I was busy with Elinor and work. Trying to be a mother and a professor and a wife was consuming all of my energy. I had nothing left for house-hunting. I promised George that he would have my full attention for that in May.

My relationship with Hannah and West remained on unsteady ground. Hannah was disappointed that Paul was not involved in Elinor's life, and she made sure that George and I knew this. West, on the other hand, confessed to George in January that he thought that his brother would never be a good husband and he didn't see the point in dragging Paul into Elinor's life. "He'd do her no good at all. She's better off with you, and Emma is better off with you. They're both better off without my idiot of a brother in their lives."

"I agreed with him, of course," George told me when he recounted the story to me later. "I have to think that I'm better for you than Paul was because I'm your husband. I'm naturally biased in my own favor."

I laughed and squeezed his hand. "George, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. At the risk of sounding like Hattie, you make me a better person."

George smiled. "You don't sound like Hattie. And I have been trying to make you a better person since you were about five. I'm glad to know that all of my efforts have not been in vain."

"George, you really are wonderful. I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'd be less than awesome," he replied with a smile.

"Well, then it's a good thing that you spent twenty-five years of your life trying to fashion the perfect wife for yourself."

My husband laughed. "That wasn't my goal. I just wanted to make you a better person. The wife bit was a fortunate side effect of my actions."

I then asked him something that I had been wondering about for quite a while. "George, when did you start seeing me as a woman?"

"What do you mean?"

"When did I stop being annoying Emmy Woodhouse to you and start being someone you could see yourself having a serious relationship with?"

"I'm not sure," he began softly. "I know that I didn't realize that you were really a woman until you moved to England when you were twenty-two. But I don't think I started seeing you as a potential love interest or life partner until we started living together."

"Whereas I first considered marrying you when I was in elementary school," I replied with a blush.

George shrugged. "We all come to love in different ways. And I'm glad that I knew you as a young girl. I loved the child that you were. But I'm also glad that I got to know you again as an adult. I'm glad that I didn't see much of you when you were in high school or college. I'm glad that when I met you at age 22, I didn't really know you as a tempestuous teenager. I'm glad that I got to reacquaint myself with you all over again."

I smiled. "I had grown up."

"And I am so proud of you for becoming the person that you have become. You escaped all of the insanity of your parents' divorce and turned into a remarkably normal young woman."

"George, I'm a college professor. I have a doctorate in literature. How on earth does that even remotely qualify as normal?"

He laughed. "All right, I'll amend my statement. Considering your childhood AND that you are an academic, you are remarkably normal."

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Good," he replied firmly. "It was intended to be nothing more or less."

Hattie's break-up with Rob had been a tough blow for her. Every conversation I had with her inevitably wound its way back to Rob. She had dozens of questions for me. Had I known that Rob was unhappy with her? (Answer: Not explicitly) Why didn't I stop their break-up? (Answer: Because it wasn't my place to do that) Why wasn't I more supportive of their relationship? (Answer: I couldn't have been more supportive unless I had tattooed "Rob+Hattie4ever" across my face.) Did Rob miss her? (Answer: I had no earthly clue.) When would Rob be ready to take her back? (Answer: Again, no earthly clue) Why didn't Rob call her? (Answer: Still without an earthly clue) Was Rob seeing someone new? (Answer: That was none of my business.)

But then, suddenly, in early February, those questions stopped. All of a sudden, Hattie stopped talking to me about Rob. In fact, she stopped mentioning her love life to me in general. "It's not that I'm complaining about that," I told George. "And I sure as heck don't miss listening to her whine about Rob. But I am confused. Why isn't she telling me anything about her love life anymore? It's just odd."

"Maybe she's given up on love," he replied flatly.

"Or maybe she's hiding something from me."

"Doubtful, I'd wager that she finally realized how whiny she is and just decided to refocus her energies on something else."

"Maybe she's dating someone who she knows I wouldn't like."

"Or maybe she's just not dating at all," George replied. "Now let's go for a walk with Elinor. That's far healthier than sitting around musing about Hattie's love life."

"I still think she's hiding something from me," I said as I took our coats out of the closet.

He sighed. "Emma, my darling, you are incorrigible."

It would, in the end, turn out that I was right, but we didn't find that out until April.

A/N: Please review!