CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the waters rough

But this love is ours

~ Taylor Swift, Ours (Taylor's Version)

BPOV

My fingers brushed over my bare stomach, my–Edward's–t-shirt having ended up bunched up underneath my breasts by the time I woke up. There had yet to be a morning when I woke up in the last five months that I wasn't utterly shocked at the fact that I was pregnant.

In the beginning it was just because I always thought it would take longer. Figured my luck was shitty enough for my body to betray me when I decided I wanted something so monumental from it. My PCOS had always been a pain to deal with and after our fertility specialist mentioned a damaged fallopian tube I figured it would take a while. Months. Years.

Then it didn't. I got pregnant before we could even start any kind of fertility treatment. As the weeks went on the physical symptoms were enough of a reminder that my body was, somehow, doing what it was supposed to. It had been too hard to think through the nausea and exhaustion to really do much other than get through the day.

The exhaustion and nausea were gone (for now). My body was very obviously pregnant so the biological part had been taken care of. And now I had to try not to have a complete emotional breakdown every morning when I woke and realized I was going to be a mother.

I hated my own mother.

With every fiber of my being I loathed her. She never wanted me. Never hid the fact from me, even when I was young. I knew, even before she married Phil, that she preferred her life when she managed to send me off to Charlie. And after, I had become the sole reminder of a life she wanted to forget.

So every morning the realization that I–the girl who had not one good or decent memory with her own mother–was going to have a daughter in a matter of months nearly broke me.

Not because I didn't want her. Not because I didn't already love her more than I knew what to do with. But because I would never be able to live with myself if she ever felt a fraction of how I did.

This morning, the sparkly new diamond that now sat on my right ring finger distracted me before the tears could gather on my lashes.

I turned onto my side, finding my husband fast asleep beside me. He was sprawled out on his stomach, chest bare and unruly copper hair sticking in every direction.

He quieted the voices in my head, the ones that told me I would turn out to be just as viscous and selfish and horrible as my own mother. He never looked at me with an annoyed glare in his eye because I couldn't let it go.

He bought me ice cream when I was frustrated and told me I was beautiful when I felt like a whale and had a whole private vow renewal set up because he knew. He always knew.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his cheek, smiling to myself when his twitched with a smile. His eyes popped open slowly, sleepy emerald irises landing on me.

I scooted closer to him, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me even closer. My head fell to his pillow as his hand slid down my hip and hitched my thigh around his waist.

The sigh I let out was unintentional, but I reveled in the complete serenity flowing through my veins that was hard to come by these days. I smiled up at him, pressing my lips to his and only pulling away a fraction of an inch to say, "I like marrying you."

Perhaps an odd way to phrase it, but I meant it. We'd only been married a few years, but we'd done it three times now. Each one a perfect memory, a moment I wouldn't ever take for granted. Each a reminder that I wasn't alone, wasn't still that scared girl I had been my entire life.

My favorite crooked smile tugged at his lips. "I like marrying you, too."

His eyes sparkled and a knot of guilt settled in my stomach. Because he did everything for me and all I ever did was breakdown. "I'm so–"

He interrupted me with a kiss. A toe curling, mind melting, kiss that didn't end until my lungs were burning.

.M.

"Motherfucker."

I slid to a stop, my head turning toward where my husband was bent toward the mirror of our ensuite, attention focused solely on his reflection.

"Everything okay?" I asked with a cock of my head.

We had just gotten home from the airport. I had made my weekly promise to myself to stop worrying so much about everything. And had just finished my after-dinner snack of a clementine that I had started obsessively hoarding again.

Edward's attention snapped toward me and he pulled me over, frowning down at me as he sandwiched me between him and the counter. He ducked his head, a single strand of hair trapped between the fingers of his other hand. "Does that look gray to you?"

I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling and took an exaggerated minute to study the hair in question. Eventually I said confidently, "No."

His brows furrowed. "Are you lying to make me feel better?"

I couldn't fight my giggle this time. "No. We just spent a week at the beach. You were in the sun almost all day every day. Your hair always gets lighter if you're outside a lot," I said the last part embarrassingly wistfully. Because I loved the way his hair got just a fraction of a bit lighter, especially in the summer.

He was a California boy through and through, his skin with a natural tan year round and those highlights that came out to play in the summer. A complete opposite to my skin that preferred to burn as opposed to tan and hair that liked to stay dark no matter what.

He wasn't convinced, shaking his head and leaning around me to examine it in the mirror himself again.

"Even," I interrupted, taking half a step over to block his view. "If it was, it would hardly be noticeable with your other highlights."

"It is. I fucking knew it," he grumbled, angrily and triumphantly plucking the single pale hair out without so much as a wince.

I blew it out of his hand before he could examine it any closer.

It was pale. And probably a highlight. But it was evidently a touchy subject.

Not that I could judge. Everything was a touchy subject for me these days.

I heaved myself up on the edge of the counter. Edward's hands wrapped around my thighs as he stood between them. "Personally," I sighed, arms falling lazily over his shoulders as my fingers tugged gently at the hair at the back of his neck. "I think you'll look rather handsome whenever your hair starts to get gray. Carlisle has plenty around his temples and he barely looks old enough to be your father."

He didn't look convinced.

My final argument was the firm kiss I pulled him into. Seemingly taking him by surprise until he caught up with me. My lips brushed along his jaw as I caught my breath. "I think it's sexy," I breathed against his neck.

I felt him huff out a breath of disagreement.

My tongue brushed against the sweet spot right behind his ear. "It is," I argued. "Just my type."

I finally felt his lips twitch with a smile against my skin. "I didn't realize you had a type."

I pulled away with a smile of my own, but his had already disappeared. "If you wanted to get all technical about it, my type is just you."

That crooked twist of his lips had my teeth digging into my bottom lip.

I hopped off the counter, fingers clutching at the thin black t-shirt he was wearing as I pulled him into our bedroom. I tugged it over his head before pushing him down to the bed. He went entirely willingly, that crooked smile in full swing as he palmed himself before I climbed on top of him.

I tossed my own t-shirt aside, emerald eyes greedily eying my breasts before he sat up and lavished both with equal amounts of attention. He pulled away with a lopsided grin that told me his minor frustration about his hair that we both knew was actually about his age had disappeared. Or was at least in the process of doing so.

I shimmied down his hips, pulling away his remaining clothing and getting rid of my own in the process.

His eyes raked over me as I settled myself back on top of him. Before I had a chance to listen to the tiny little voice of self-consciousness in the back of my head he grunted out, "Sexiest thing I've ever fucking seen," underneath his breath as he lined himself up with my entrance and pulled me down on his with a firm tug.

I groaned, adjusting to him as I leaned down for another kiss. His fingers dug into my hair, keeping me close and stealing my breath as I ground myself against him.

I had to pull myself away eventually, when he seemed to keep forgetting that air was a necessity for both of us.

His head was thrown back, neck tense and mouth slack as he moaned and I rode him. Until his hands tensed on my thighs and he had me on my back beneath him. His hands were firm on my hips as he thrust back inside me.

His eyes met mine for just a moment. A silent question of whether I was okay. I nodded, and it was all he needed.

A kiss muffled the sounds that I had no control over. I was fairly certain I had blacked out for a moment or two, because the next cognitive thought I had was as Edward collapsed into bed beside me.

"I'll have to start dying my hair gray myself if that's the reaction I get," he gasped out.

.M.

"Can you please just give me just an hour? An hour of peace to get something done? Your father took us to lunch an hour ago. I've peed three times since then. I don't know what else you could possibly want," I grumbled to the little one currently entertaining herself by doing somersaults in my uterus.

The first time I felt her move I burst into tears. Every time since, if Edward was around, I'd quickly grab his hand and press it to my abdomen and watch his face light up. And while I loved the constant reminder that she was doing well in there, it was also incredibly distracting when I was at work.

I was officially in my third and final trimester of pregnancy. My exhaustion was slowly creeping back in. And the internet had informed me that I was just a ticking timebomb for a plethora of new and unpleasant things until I gave birth.

Just the thought of giving birth sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine, but I pushed the thought out of my head and focused on the work in front of me.

My workload had slowly been decreasing the last few weeks as my clients were moved over to my replacements for the time being. I was incredibly fortunate in that Renata told me I could start my maternity leave whenever I wanted, and that I would have a job waiting for me when I wanted to come back. I still planned to take a year to try and figure out what the hell I was doing. But at this rate I wouldn't have much to do once I was able to actually bite the bullet and let Ben take over for Edward.

I was focused on deleting the plethora of useless emails lingering when the soft knock at my door broke me out of my trance.

The last person I expected to see was Edward. And the very uncharacteristically tense set of his face.

"Is everything okay?" I asked quickly, my brain running through a hundred horrible scenarios in a moment.

"Everything is fine," he answered just as quickly. His face still unsettling stern.

Maybe it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

He walked around my desk. I twisted my chair until I faced him as he knelt in front of me and took both of my hands in his. He squeezed them tightly, not letting go as he spoke. "Do you remember Kevin Ryan? The–"

"The District Attorney."

Edward nodded. "He calls me once a year or so. Just to let me know Tyler is still locked up. That he's not getting out a day before those fifteen years are up."

Law school. I should have gone into law instead of something as impractical as public relations. I didn't know anything about parole or how people got out for good behavior or–

"He called me early this time," Edward said carefully. "Because Tyler was killed in a prison riot last night."

My lungs emptied out with a huff. My head jerked back as if he had slapped me across the face. My hands would have been shaking if he didn't have such a tight grip on them.

"I don't know who knows yet, if it's going to get picked up by the news. I didn't want you to find out…"

I only picked up every few words from then on out. The ringing in my ears loud enough that I nearly convinced myself something had to have exploded nearby.

I wasn't… sure.

About anything.

How I felt. How I should feel. What I should do. If I had to do anything.

Edward's voice eventually broke through the fog. "Bella?"

My eyes slowly focused on his face.

"This isn't on you, Bella," he said carefully.

I could see where he would come to the conclusion that was where my mind would go. But my mind was having a hard time doing anything. Going anywhere.

It was all I could do not to sob with relief.

"Would…" I muttered, clearing my throat as I tried to find the words that made me sound less like a sociopath. "Would you think I was a terrible person if I said I was… relieved? That I didn't… I don't blame myself and I… I'm relieved?"

"No," he said firmly. "That does not make you a terrible person."

My hip twinged, probably a phantom pain but it was there nonetheless. The same hip I would have to get replaced again in about fifteen years.

I took in a shaky and unsteady breath.

In fifteen years I'd have a daughter nearing her fifteenth birthday.

And I wouldn't have to worry about him finding her. About him holding a vendetta or breaking the restraining order I'd have to get put back in place or have to think about him at all.

"Are you sure? That he–you're sure?" I gasped, losing my battle with the tears that flooded my lashes.

Edward nodded, thumb brushing across my cheek and wiping away the tears as they fell. "I'm sure."

I could see it in his eyes. His own relief, not bogged down by the idea that he should feel anything different.

My arms wrapped around his neck, his around my waist as I stood on shaky legs. He drove me home, the car silent save for the purring of the engine. My mind was still hazy. Like there were too many thoughts but then somehow none at the same time.

It was hours later, as I sat on the couch buried beneath thirty pounds of tan fur with sixty pounds of muscle to my left and my husband to the right that I realized it was nearly seven and he never went back to work.

He knew exactly what I was going to say before I managed to find the words.

"We did a rerun. Don't worry about it."

I didn't bother to try and argue. My head fell back to his shoulder as the television played some mindless sitcom that neither of us were actually watching.

I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew my head was perched up on an impressive pillow and blanket device created next to me, the television was off, and voices were whispering down the hall.

"What are you two doing here?" I heard Edward mumble.

"We brought pizza," Lucy said.

"And a puzzle. I don't know if I've ever seen her do one, but she seems like a puzzle person. It's a thousand pieces and looks complicated as hell. We thought it might help… distract her."

I was fairly certain that was Masen. It shouldn't have been, because he went back to school not long after Edward and I got back from Hawaii to do something with his Frat. And he didn't need to make a six hour drive back here to bring me a puzzle.

"You guys don't–"

"She would do it for us," Lucy interrupted.

"We've never… It was the closest we ever came to losing someone close. We just… wanted to be here."

"Do not cry," I told myself quietly. I stood from the couch, just about every muscle in my body protesting in one way or another. I wrapped my blanket tight around my shoulders as I wandered over toward the front. "Do not cry."

My tears wouldn't have been for Tyler. I still didn't… didn't feel anything for him. Didn't really think I ever would.

But then I rounded the corner and saw Lucy standing there with a pizza large enough to feed half a dozen and watched Masen pull a puzzle out of the tote hanging off of his sisters arm, still trying to convince his father that I was secretly a puzzle person.

And I was certain I wouldn't cry over him. Wouldn't waste any more of my time on him. My parents were another story, but Tyler wouldn't haunt me anymore.

I pulled my blanket around me, arms crossed over my chest as the three of them realized I was awake. I stopped at Edward's side, blanket covered hands wrapping around his forearm. "What's this I hear about a puzzle?"

A/N: I had a bit of writers block with this one and went back and read a few random chapters of the series so far and fell in love with them all over again. And I'm so happy you guys seem to love them as much as I do. Enough to put up with my "little part three" somehow becoming 21 chapters before I even think about getting near the end. I hope you enjoyed this one and I'll see ya next time!