A/N: Back in September, this was my contribution to the Fandom4LLS fundraiser. It was a long-ass one shot within the compilation itself. So to post here, I've split it into five, more-manageable parts. It will update this week, Monday through Friday. :)

This entire outtake takes place AFTER the first epilogue of Spin & Sway, but BEFORE the final epilogue, entitled "Life."

Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest is mine.

S&S Outtake - The Future

Ch. 1

The cacophony surrounding me calms my jittery nerves and gives me something else on which to focus this afternoon.

"No, Angela, no!"

Angie's mother, Doña Lucia, digs her fingers into the white material around Angie's slender waist. "Dile a esa mierda de seamstress que she has to tighten it around the cintura more and give you an hourglass figure!"

"Mami, if she tightens it any more, I won't be able to breathe at the wedding!"

"Que breathing ni que breathing! You don't need to breathe to look good!" Doña Lucia bunches up a few inches of wedding dress between her pudgy fingers and gives me a pleading look. "Bellita, tell Angie that it looks better this way!"

I'm sitting on the purple suede, upholstered chaise on the other side of the bridal salon, but at Angie's mom's insistence, I cock my head sideways to study her daughter, whose face is beginning to resemble a tomato being deprived of oxygen.

"Uhh…Doñita Lucia, maybe we should ask the seamstress for her opinion?"

"Bah!" She scoffs, unhappy with my response. "That seamstress don't know what she's doing. I told Angela to let me make her dress, but she didn't listen to me, y ahora mira!" she moans.

Because Doña Lucia appears close to tears, I withhold the rude chuckle gurgling under my breath. Angie, however, snatches the dress out of her mother's hand and, ignoring Doña Lucia's outburst, makes her way over to me. Doña Lucia is now forced to turn over her numerous complaints to Angie's cousins.

Angie slowly sinks herself into the seat next to me, spreading out her long, white, complicated dress, which forces me to scoot over to a small corner.

"Coño, I hate this dress! Why can't I just wear a dress like yours?"

She gazes longingly at the simple, lavender, spaghetti-strap dress she let me pick out for myself. It's much less elaborate than the dark purple, intricate and frilly dress Doña Lucia tried to talk me into wearing.

I smile indulgently. "Because you're the bride, and you have to outshine everyone. And you do. You really do. You look so beautiful."

My eyes sting with emotion, but when Angie huffs angrily, I laugh aloud.

"Chica, are you laughing or are you crying?" she wonders, watching me closely. "What's going on with you, Bellita? You've been a weirdo today."

"Nothing's going on." Dropping my eyes to my lap, I pretend to smooth out my soft, silky skirt.

"Bullshit. Girl, we've known each other since before we could fill a 34C between us, and now look…." she says, gazing off to where her female relatives stand arguing and yelling. By the dreamy, far off look on her face, I'd bet my butt she's not seeing them; rather, she's probably seeing a well-built, though slightly geeky, light saber-wielding talent agent.

"Now look," she repeats, "you've got a perfect pair of tetas that fill out those cups all by themselves, and my little girlies ain't so bad either if I do say so myself. And a week from today, my Jedi Papito and I will be tying the knot, joining you and Papi Chulo in the land of wedded bliss! So how many years does that equal?"

"A lot."

"Exactly! So tell me que pasa," she insists, "cuz I think we've just established that I know you well enough to know when you're full of shit."

"Because you know my bra size?"

"The whole bra size is a metaphor for-"

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh my God! Oh my God, yes! Yes! Aye Bendito, si! YES!"

She swaddles me in her arms so tightly that now I'm the one who can barely breathe. Over her shoulder, I see her family suddenly go still and silent, watching us curiously.

"Shh." I drop my voice to a whisper. "Don't say anything, Angie! Edward doesn't know yet!"

"What's going on over there?" Doña Lucia asks, hands on her hips.

Angie slowly pulls away from me.

"Uh…Bella's just giving me some last minute tips for the honeymoon. You know, on screaming and…stuff."

Doña Lucia narrows her eyes, pursing her lips disapprovingly. "Sucias."

And with that, they all resume their loud conversation.

Angie shrugs. "Bellita, why on earth haven't you told Papi Chulo yet?"

"I…I don't know," I shrug back. "I guess I'm a bit nervous about his reaction."

"But didn't you guys have that big talk a few years ago before you got married? Didn't he decide that he did want kids after all, that he just wanted to wait and do it a bit later down the line?"

I nod.

She grins. "Well it's later down the line! You guys have been married for four years now, and you're doing great in your career, and so is he. I mean, he, Emmett and Charlie may kill each other one of these days now that they're working together, but other than that, isn't everything hunky-dory?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," I agree with a sigh. "And that's the problem."

She frowns. "I'm sorry, Bellita, but either your pregnancy hormones or my pre-wedding jitters are fucking with one of us because that made no sense."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Edward agreed that he did want children, but…but what if he's just been saying that to please me because he knows that's what I want? Or what if things are going so well right now that Edward decides that a pregnancy would just throw a wrench into an otherwise ideal time?"

She stares at me for a while. "Yeah, Bellita, it's definitely those pregnancy hormones. They're screwing with your brain."

I shove her arm which as usual, makes her laugh heartily. "I'm serious!"

"You're crazy is what you are," she chortles.

"Angie, come on…" She must hear something in my voice because her laughter stops. "It's just that I'm…scared," I confess.

"Of what?" Her tone is much gentler now.

"I'm scared that…if I tell Edward, and he isn't totally and completely one hundred percent elated, I may never be able to forgive him. I mean, I'm pregnant, Angie." I smile, though my bottom lip quivers a bit. "And I know he worries about how his alcoholism will affect the baby…"

"But he hasn't had a drink in over five years," Angie reminds me.

"I know, but it's something he still worries about, and when I tell him that we're having a baby, the last thing I want to hear are fears about genes and DNA. And believe me, I know how selfish that sounds, and it probably is, but that's what I'm afraid of," I admit, "that he'll spend the next nine months worrying and won't let himself enjoy this and therefore not let me enjoy it. I know we have to figure out how the alcoholism will affect the baby, but…"

I feel like such a selfish bitch as I say these things, but I've always been able to tell Angie exactly what I'm feeling. And sure enough, there's nothing but tenderness and understanding in her big, dark eyes. That's why she'll always be my best friend.

Instead of telling me to get over myself, she reaches out and takes my hand in hers, threading our fingers tightly.

"Aye Bellita, I have no idea how Papi Chulo will react to the news, but I do know one thing: that dude loves you like they invented the word just for you and him. Tell him."

"I know," I nod. "I know I have to."

"And soon because I'll be honest with you; I'm about to burst," she giggles impishly. "There's no way in hell I can guarantee you that I won't spill the beans next time I see him!"

"Angie," I warn.

"Okay, okay! But tell him! And since you opened the can, while you help me undo all these little fucking buttons on my back, you can spill the rest of the damn beans. When are you due, and how do you feel, and do you think it's a boy or a girl? Imaginate if you have twins! I'll be a double aunt! Does Mel know? What do you think she'll consider this baby- her cousin or her sibling? Hah! Okay, tell me everything!"

Her twenty plus questions make me laugh despite my jittery nerves. She turns her back to me so that I can start undoing her dress buttons. When my cell phone rings and Dad's number pops up, I cradle the phone between my shoulder and jaw so that I can continue using both hands for Angie's difficult little buttons; otherwise, we'll be here forever.

"Hey Dad, What's-"

"Bells, first off, we've already got him at the hospital, and he's in very good hands."

I drop the phone.

It lands on the upholstered sofa with a muffled thud. After about three seconds, I finally muster up the nerve to pick it up.

"Bella? Bella?" Charlie is saying.

I barely manage a whispered response. "I'm here."

"Damn, hard-headed idiot," Charlie resumes vehemently, but his voice shakes with what sounds like barely repressed panic. "I told him not to climb up that scaffold without a body-harness, but he said it was just a quick adjustment he wanted to make to-"

"Charlie!" I screech. "Just tell me what happened and where he is!"

By this point, Angie has turned around and is gaping at me, her half-undone buttons forgotten by us both.

"He took a fall. The safety net caught him, but his shoulder hit one of the beams on the way down. They're taking him into surgery right now."

"Oh God," I breathe, closing my eyes. "Which hospital?" I'm already half way out the door, maid-of-honor dress flowing in the breeze as I make my way to the curb to hail a cab. Angie trails behind me in her pristine, white wedding dress, and somewhere in the background, I hear her mother screaming bloody murder.

"New York Downtown," Charlie answers

"I'm on my way." I hang up at the same time that I lift my other hand, waving it frantically in the middle of traffic. "Come on! Come on!"

"I'm coming with you," Angie says.

"No, you're not." I try to keep my voice steady and even because I know that if I allow panic to set in, I won't be able to shake it. "Go back inside; I'll call you and let you know what's happening."

A cab finally stops, and I yank open the back door, but Angie grabs my arm.

"Bellita, no way in hell I'm letting you ride up there on your own! You're shaking, you're pale as a ghost, and you're pregnant!"

"Angie, go inside. You don't fit in this cab with that dress, and I don't have time to wait for you to change. I swear I'll call you as soon as I get there. Go inside. I have to go."

Angie looks between the tight, cramped back seat of the cab and herself, deliberating for a couple of seconds, but in those couple of seconds, I've already climbed in and am blurting out my destination to the cabbie.

I look up at Angie. "I'll call you as soon as I can. Promise."

And without waiting for her response, I close the door, and we're on our way.

A/N: Thoughts?

Translations:

Dile a esamierda de seamstress que she has to tighten it around the cintura more and give you an hourglass figure!" – Tell that piece of crap seamstress that she has to tighten it more around the waist to give you an hourglass figure.

"Que breathing ni que breathing!" – What breathing or breathing?

That seamstress don't know what she's doing. I told Angela to let me make her dress, but she didn't listen to me, y ahora mira!" – "…and now look!"

"Sucias." – Dirty girls.

Alright, see you guys tomorrow!

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.