I barely remembered last night after arriving in my quarters and collapsing on the bed, but I know I didn't sleep a wink. I was awake all night, feeding Sam every two hours, shushing, rocking, cuddling, and doing everything I could to soothe him so no one inside the castle would be alerted to our presence. A particular method of mine would be successful for a short time, but the moment I would begin to let my guard down and fall asleep, his cries would start up again. I couldn't blame him, though. He was in an unfamiliar room on a planet he'd never been on before, with me, practically a stranger to him, suddenly deprived of his mother's warmth, voice, and familiar touch. He's finally asleep on the bed behind me, but I still can't sleep. Being awake all night forced my brain to accept that sleep would never come, so the exhaustion eventually subsided. Plus, I'm a morning person anyway, and the sun was already rising, so I hurried downstairs, made coffee in record time, and whizzed back upstairs, begging Sam to be still asleep and not to have rolled off the bed during my brief absence. Thankfully, he hadn't and was still dozing peacefully, so I decided to stand outside on the balcony, enjoying the sunrise and my caf, glancing behind me occasionally to ensure my child was still breathing. However, a much more enjoyable sight than the view from my balcony strolled onto the beach as I sipped my steaming beverage. Rebel. I nearly spit out my caf at the spectacle of her. She wore a skin-tight black swimsuit that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was a one-piece, but it didn't need to be less to show more with the way it already clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. I groaned and squeezed the railing, making my knuckles go white, knowing the respectable, gentlemanly thing would be to go inside, close the windows, and draw the shades, giving her privacy. I wasn't feeling particularly gentlemanlike at the moment, however. I propped my forearms on the railing, leaned over to rest my cheek on them, and stayed to watch. She strode toward the dock, lifted the white towel with blue stripes at the ends off her shoulders, exposing more skin, and placed the towel on the wooden pier. My hands itched to reach out, to touch her, and to hold her. I wanted to circle my arms around her waist and pull her tight against me. She stretched, pulling her arms across her chest one after the other, twisting side to side, and reaching down to touch her toes. She walked to the pier's edge, gripped the ledge with her toes as she reached up to the sky, extended herself to her full height, and bounced a few times before skillfully diving into the lake, plunging underneath the surface of the still, calm, crystal-clear water with hardly any splash. The lake was so transparent I could watch as she swam underwater a few feet from the dock and keep track of where she was so I could pinpoint exactly where she would emerge. I never would have forgiven myself if I'd missed that. She looked like something out of a dream as she burst through the water's surface and threw her head back, flipping her hair, making the water droplets clinging to the drenched strands sparkle in the dawning light as they traveled to land against the exposed area of skin between her shoulder blades. I had difficulty holding onto my mug as my entire body relaxed with a contented sigh. To me, she was the sun, meaning that whenever I looked at her in frustration, it always reminded me that my problems were small and insignificant compared to her glory. I looked to her for direction. She was my compass, my guiding light. She shone too brightly for me to be near her for too long, but her beauty was too mesmerizing not to stare at. She was the first thing I wanted to see when I woke up and the last thing I wanted to see before I fell asleep. I observed as she cupped two palmfuls of water, splashed it on her already perfectly moisturized face, and paddled around, gracing other areas of the lake with her presence. I noticed something different about her facial expression as she swam. She seemed genuinely happy, relaxed, and calm. It was an expression I hadn't seen on her face in... Well, ever. Swimming seemed to be her happy place, a peaceful activity, her escape from stressful senatorial duties. I watched her turn over onto her back and float on the water's surface with her eyes closed and a serene smile on her face. It seemed as if she did this often. Today wasn't her first time coming to the lake to swim; she had come prepared. It was routine to her. I wondered if anyone else knew she did this. If not, I felt privileged to be the only one who knew her secret. Either way, I learned something new about her today. I had come for the show but stayed for the lesson. "Appa?" A small, timid voice broke my concentration, and I whipped around toward it, clutching the mug's handle tighter, causing the liquid to slosh as I spun. "Huh, what?" I asked in a dazed state before my eyes focused on the figure behind me without realizing what they said. "I wasn't staring," I said defensively. With a breath of relief, I saw Ria peering around the doorframe and placed my hand over my heart, hoping to soothe its fast rhythm. "What is it, love?" I asked, lowering my voice as I always did when speaking to her and lowering my hand to rest against the top of the railing. "I'm hungry," she announced, abandoning her timidness from earlier as she stepped inside my room the rest of the way and threw her hands above her head, letting them flop back down against her sides. "Well, let's see what we can do about that, shall we?" I asked rhetorically and walked over toward her, setting my half-empty mug down on the nightstand on my way to her, and picked her and Sam up in my arms, carrying them downstairs to the kitchen. As soon as we arrived, I sat Ria down at one of the tables and immediately began one-handedly fixing pancakes for myself and the kids, knowing Ria's patience was thin. It wasn't the most nutritious breakfast, but it was our favorite, and I wanted to reward them for being such good kids and obediently spending the night in a foreign room without disturbing me to allow me to focus all my attention and energy on their baby brother. Once I finished cooking the pancakes, I retrieved the rest of the kids from their bedroom and brought them to the kitchen to eat. We lapped up our syrup piles with the pancakes, and I brought the sticky plates to the sink to wash them with four satisfied children sitting at the table behind me, swinging their legs back and forth. Standing at the sink scrubbing the sudsy plates with a sponge, I heard soft footsteps padding into the room behind me that I knew could only belong to one person. Although I could identify her without sight, I looked over my shoulder anyway, wanting to see her. "Good morning, Your Highness," I greeted her with one of my signature nicknames for her as I glanced behind me, but I quickly realized a glance wasn't enough. I stared at her in the doorway, the water still running, my hands scrubbing motion paused as all bodily functions other than breathing came to a screeching halt. The sun sparkled off the wet strands of her dark, damp hair that clung to her neck and forehead. She held onto her white towel draped around her shoulders, its cloth still damp from her early morning swim. Water droplets glistened on her black nylon swimsuit. The moisture made the suit stick to her body even more, but I forced my eyes to remain above her chest level. It was such a struggle I had to tilt my chin upward to keep my eyes from venturing further down. What I would give to be that swimsuit. She smiled curiously at my behavior, turning her head to the side to squint at me with one eye as she strode further into the kitchen toward me. "Good morning, Ash," she said sultrily. How does everything she says sound seductive?! Her voice probably only sounded that way because I was the first person she'd spoken to this morning. Mmm, to be the first person she spoke to every morning. She stood beside me and rubbed my back, dragging her nails across my skin. I shivered at the sensation. I never wanted her to stop. Unfortunately, she did and glanced behind her to greet the kids. "Good morning, kids." She smiled at them. "Chipmunk." Her expression turned slightly more serious as she tipped her chin to Ria professionally. My daughter lifted her head from the table's surface and opened her eyes. "Morning, Bells." She waved to Rebel, let her head rest on the table again, and closed her eyes. "How was his first night?" Rebel asked regarding Sam as she gazed at him, dozing in my arm, lowering her voice to speak to me. "A bit rough because he was hungry," I exhaustedly recalled the moment I'd run out of bottles I'd smuggled from the rebellion and had to rely on other methods of soothing him as I yawned, covering my mouth with my free hand. "But we got through it." I looked over at Rebel and smiled after I finished my yawn, showing her I was unaffected by the lack of sleep. "Oh my gosh, Ash!" She gasped, slapping her palm over her chest. "Why didn't you tell me?" She scolded as she began briskly walking toward the fridge. "He must be starving!" She assumed as she tugged on the fridge handle, revealing shelves of baby bottles full of milk. "No, no, it's okay." I found it difficult to respond as my eyes remained glued to the fridge's contents, shocked by the quantity. "I brought a few bottles from home. I only ran out this morning, but I didn't want to bother you," I explained as she stooped down, plucked one from the bottom shelf, presumably the freshest bottle, and closed the door with her toes. "Well, you should've because we have plenty of bottles of baby formula here," she said, shaking the bottle. "Why?" I asked skeptically, tilting my head, hoping I wasn't overstepping my bounds and hoping she wasn't pregnant. Of course, the universe needs more Rebel, but I'd hate to see her endure that pain again. There was the added reason that I wasn't quite ready to admit to myself yet. It would mean she loved Benji or Sawyer, not me. Why would she love me, though? I had nothing to offer her. I wasn't musical like Benji; I couldn't write her a love song, no matter how badly I wanted to. I wasn't an artist like Sawyer; I couldn't capture her beauty through art, no matter how hard I tried. Truthfully, no one could. Even Sawyer's renderings fell short of recreating her in all her glory. All I could do was write her short rhymes that I couldn't even call poems. Who wants a scrap of paper with a few words scribbled on it that aren't even worthy of being called a poem? "Sawyer stocks up monthly just in case he thinks I'm pregnant," she mumbled reluctantly and avoided eye contact with me, focusing on the bottle she was shaking. Remorse immediately overwhelmed me. I felt guilty for even asking. It wasn't my place. I should've assumed Ansa, Aaron, and Apollo still occasionally drank milk and minded my business. The one thing I was grateful for was that she felt comfortable telling me. At least now I knew Sawyer was going through with the plan he'd devised the last time I'd seen him. It was better than being left to wonder, but knowing what was happening in the room next to mine was sickening. I assumed she had been reluctant to tell me why she had so many bottles because she felt guilty for cheating on Benji, but her face reflected more than guilt. It exuded grief, misery, and agony, the polar opposite of her facial expression this morning. That caused me to ponder what would make Rebel want to be with Sawyer again. I turned up empty. Surely, Sawyer hadn't changed much since I last spoke with him, and I knew Rebel wasn't a cheater. Her unwavering loyalty and strong morals would never allow her to betray Benji like that. There was no justifiable reason for her to cheat on him willingly, without threats to her kids or by force. "Rebel," I gulped, reluctant to admit the possibility my former best friend had resorted to such methods to get what he wanted as I struggled to phrase my question appropriately. "Is he-?" I began to ask but was interrupted. "May I feed him?" She requested politely, extending her arm for me to place him in, looking at me as if I should've expected that to be the next thing she said. "Of-of course," I stuttered as I nodded and gently passed my newborn son to her. As I watched her cradle Sam and smile at him adoringly, I couldn't rebuke Sawyer for wanting to have more children with her. She's an amazing mother. Any man would be lucky to call her the mother of their children. Even watching her care for them was an honor. Her willingness to sacrifice her life for one of her children was visible in her eyes as she looked at them, and I could tell Sam was now considered one of her own. Of course, I could rebuke him for how he was going about it. Judging by the way she was unwilling to allow me to complete my question, it was, in fact, the truth. I had promised him that if he ever touched her again, he'd pay with his life, and I always follow through on my promises. "What's his name?" She asked as she fed him the bottle, gently swaying side to side. "Sam, after my father," I answered, omitting the detail that he was also partially named after Sawyer, which I now regretted. "Hi, Sam," she greeted him tenderly, lowering her voice as she spoke to him to have a private conversation just the two of them. Her grin doubled in size when his tiny, chubby fingers reached for hers that clutched the bottle. His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened at realizing he enjoyed the taste, making her snicker. "When you left the restaurant yesterday," Rebel paused, and I began scrubbing the dirty plates again. "You said you loved me," she stated matter of factly as if suddenly remembering what had occurred yesterday afternoon that had been on my mind, tormenting me, ever since it slipped out of my mouth. The plate I was washing hadn't seemed slippery before but suddenly slid out of my hands with ease as my head lurched up from my task. The plate crashed to the bottom of the sink, my hands trembling above it, causing vibrating water droplets to drip off my fingertips because I was shaking so badly. These dishes are never going to get washed. I gulped, dreading what her reaction to my confession would be. For once, it felt impossible to look at her as I tried to turn my head and look at her over my shoulder, but it felt as if my cheek had collided with a brick wall, preventing me from facing her direction. "Did you mean that?" She asked bashfully. How could she possibly doubt that? I was born knowing how to do three things: how to breathe, how to sleep, and how to love her. I've loved her since the day I was born. Probably even before. I'll love her until the day I die. Probably even after. Loving her is an instinct. It's second nature. It all feels so natural, genuine, and sincere. None of my emotions feel forced when I'm with her. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's almost as if loving her is my destiny, what I'm supposed to do. Ah, I knew it would sound stupid, but I don't care. It's my destiny. I decide whether it's silly or not. It wasn't until I fell in love with Rebel that I discovered there was a fifth necessity of life. Before her, I knew the primary four: air, food, water, and shelter. Then, she came along, and I realized it was her. She was the missing essentiality. I need her to survive, but not in the way I need air to survive. If I were deprived of oxygen, it would be painful, but I would eventually die. However, if I were deprived of Rebel, I would suffer endlessly, condemned to an eternal torment from which the only escape was her presence. To describe what I feel for her as love feels inadequate, almost like an insult. It's too short, simple, and overused of a word to encapsulate my immense affection for her. However, I'm stuck with it until I can invent a more appropriate word. I love her. That will never change, like the presence of the force or the fact that the sun rises in the morning. Whether she lets me love her platonically or romantically, having her in my life will be a privilege. It would be up to her to interpret which one my undying love for her meant when I finally confirmed my confession. "Of course I did," I said with such conviction that it was as if I were confirming that sentients require oxygen to breathe, but it wasn't enough just to verify I had meant what I said. I wanted to repeat the words. "I do love you, Rebel," I told her again as I finally found the courage to turn around and face her. I wanted her to know exactly what I meant. I wanted to remind her I loved her every day of her life, multiple times a day. I wanted to tell her I loved her until she was sick of hearing me say it. I love her so much I'm willing to live for her. Most people thought the biggest sacrifice they could make was to die for something. They were wrong. The biggest sacrifice you could make was to live for something, to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you didn't recognize. I wanted to tell her how much I love her, how long I have loved her, and how long I will love her, but I shut myself up, allowing her time to process the information. Also, I couldn't speak even if I wanted to because she was smiling. It was a genuine, heart-stopping, breathtaking smile, like the one at the lake this morning. I did that. I put that smile there. She doesn't know it yet, but every word I speak exists to make her smile. It's selfish, but I want to hoard all her smiles and laughs for myself, treasuring each one in a special place in my heart. I want every smile to be the result of my handy work. I want to be the only recipient of every smirk, chuckle, and grin. I want them all to be for me. Since that is impossible, I'll settle for making her smile the most. She didn't respond to my confession, but I could tell she loved me too by her smile alone. "What was in that letter?" She asked, changing the subject as she looked down at Sam, still beaming from my confession. Oh, great, something that would wipe that smile clean off her face. Could we stay on the topic of my love for her forever? That's exactly how long I could go on about it, coincidentally. I assumed it would be impolite to ignore her question, though. I inhaled deeply before admitting my second confession this morning as I turned back toward the sink and picked up the plate and sponge I had discarded earlier. "I found out I have a daughter," I said as I released the breath I had drawn. She scoffed and regarded me with confusion as she looked back at me. "Ash, I could've told you that." She giggled as she glanced at Ria, slumped over the table, dozing. I peeked over my shoulder to look at my daughter, whom Asyr had recently dethroned as firstborn, and chuckled at the puddle of drool forming below her agape mouth. I hemmed and hawed as I struggled with the sudden shift in mood from amusement to seriousness, as I knew I would need to introduce Asyr in some way to explain my peculiar statement. "Another one," I paused, turned back toward the sink, and resumed scrubbing the plate as I gulped. "With a different woman," I admitted timidly, watching Rebel's reaction from the corner of my eye since I didn't dare to look her in the eye. Her eyes widened in surprise, and I could practically see the gears turning in her brain as she contemplated how to respond. "Not one younger than 4, I hope," she muttered, looking out for myself and her sister. I couldn't help but chuckle awkwardly at her comment to ease the tension, relieved my daughter's age was the main thing concerning her. Her distrust in my fidelity stung slightly, but it was valid considering my past. "No, she's ten," I said as I shook my head and scrubbed the plate I was holding with a sponge to keep my gaze occupied since I still couldn't look at her. "She reached out to me herself," I added, inadvertently providing her with more details and information about the letter I had received. "She wants to meet me, and I think I want to meet her too," I admitted as I continued scrubbing the plate, the squeaking sound of the sponge scraping against the ceramic ringing in my ears. "She left me her mother's contact information," I explained how I would meet her as I picked up a dish towel and dried the plate. "But I'm slightly nervous to call it." I chuckled nervously and opened the cabinet above my head, stashing the clean plate. I turned off the water, dried my hands off on the towel, and turned toward her with one hand on my hip, the other leaning against the counter as I cocked my head at her, unsure what her response would be to my impending question. "Would you mind standing by me?" I asked hesitantly. "Sure," she answered indifferently and shrugged. I took a deep breath and reached into my pocket, extracting my holoprojector and Asyr's letter. I set the holoprojector down on the counter, unfolded the paper on which she had written her mother's contact information, and dialed the frequency. It rang a few times before a brunette about my age answered. She looked about like how I assume I would've looked if I'd never met Rebel: tired, possibly high, slightly hungover, and unhappy. Her hair was scraggly, her eyes bloodshot, accented by the bags underneath them. She had frown lines from years of not experiencing true happiness. She appeared nauseated and slightly annoyed that the holoprojector's resonating had disrupted the little sleep she may have been getting while simultaneously vaguely lethargic, either from the lack of sleep or drug use. I shuddered as I thought about what Asyr's daily life possibly consisted of, grateful I could not receive a full view of her surroundings on my tiny holoprojector. I could only imagine the deplorable conditions Asyr and her mother were dwelling in. I refrained from cringing and stepping back in self-defense as my manners snapped into place. "Hi, Haneli," I greeted the woman by name, surmising she was Asyr's mother, and waved. "Ash." Her features hardened even more as she ground out my name contemptuously, recognizing me instantly. Even though she wasn't happy to see me, she still remembered me. I felt guilty she still didn't look familiar to me, but she did look like the type of woman I would've slept with in my teenage years. "I didn't expect a reply from you," she said haughtily and straightened up as if she considered herself better than me, out of my reach, that I was not worthy of the privilege of speaking with her. I understood where she was coming from, though. I presume we had the same tendencies when we were younger, so she probably thought I turned out like her or worse. It was bittersweet because it was distressing to see the circumstances of those less fortunate than me, but it also made me feel good about how far I had come and what I'd accomplished. I never thought I'd have even half of what I have now. I owed my success mostly to others, but at least I still had some of those people in my life. Some people didn't have anyone. I pried myself away from the feeling of pride and appreciation swelling in my chest to focus on what Haneli had said. "I'm sorry, I would've responded earlier, but I just got the note yesterday," I explained that what had taken me so long to respond to Asyr was a delay in receiving the letter. Otherwise, I would've replied in a heartbeat. It wasn't Rebel's fault, though. She couldn't have gotten it to me any earlier since the rebellion didn't exactly have an address, and even if it did, she wouldn't have written it on a piece of paper that the empire could've easily tracked. "Sure you did," she muttered sarcastically, rolled her eyes, and, sure enough, brought a death stick to her lips. Just as I'd suspected. I need to get my daughter out of that environment. At this point, I didn't care if Asyr's mother had been as promiscuous as I when she was a teenager and if Asyr's father was actually someone else. I just wanted to take the opportunity to rescue this child from this atmosphere. "Um, how-how've you been?" I asked, trying to make conversation so she would be more susceptible to sharing the custody of her child with me, stuttering as I avoided watching her inhale the smoke from the death stick, fighting the urge to give into temptation and purchase a pack for myself. I felt the void in my lungs expanding, craving the taste of the fumes to fill the emptiness. I leaned forward and placed my palms on the counter on either side of the holoprojector to support myself. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply to remind myself how much I enjoyed the sensation without the interruption of a coughing fit immediately after. I caught a whiff of something familiar and pleasant as I did so. Rebel. She smelled like the lake, the flowers on the hillside, and the fresh air itself. I glanced over my shoulder, and she smiled at me. That's all I needed. I'm good now. I'm perfect. She's my oxygen. She's the only thing I need. No void was left in my body because whenever I looked at her, my heart expanded to occupy every crevice in my being. I stood up straight again, feeling more rejuvenated than I ever thought possible. "Let's just get this over with," Haneli grumbled as she exhaled the smoke that was now repulsive and suffocating to me and looked over her shoulder. "Asyr, holoprojector for you!" She hollered impatiently, and a tall ten-year-old girl with long, flowing, curly brown hair sprinted into the frame. She had inherited my stature and hair texture, at least. She had already almost reached her mother's shoulders as she stood beside her to retrieve the holoprojector from her mother's palm, and her hair was wild, although she had tamed it as much as possible. The view from the holoprojector lowered only slightly as the device left Haneli's hands and was transported into Asyr's. As she grinned and brushed her curly caramel locks out of her face, I noticed she had my freckles, too. I didn't need to hold her from birth to share an immediate connection with her and to know she was mine, just as it had been with all my children, including Rebel's triplets. "Hi, Dad," she greeted me timidly, although her voice was laced with enthusiasm, instantly recognizing our similarities and concluding I was the call she had eagerly awaited. It made my heart warm hearing her call me dad, but it also made my heart throb to think she had assumed her father hadn't cared about her all these years. I was determined to rectify that. "Hey, sweetheart," I said fondly and waved. "It's nice to meet you," I said, yearning to reach out and hug her, but since I could not for the time being, I rubbed my left arm up and down with my right hand to soothe the ache for physical contact. "You too." She nodded in agreement. "Do you think we could meet in person somewhere?" I asked tentatively, unsure if she was ready for a relationship with me yet. "Would that be okay with your mom?" I added, attempting to be respectful of the other parental figure in the equation. I also didn't know how Asyr felt about her mother yet, if she was attached to her and would want her to accompany her to our meeting place. Regardless, she would probably need to since Asyr wasn't quite old enough to be sent out alone, especially not to meet a stranger. Asyr's emerald eyes, which I realized had come from me, too, lit up at the suggestion, but she glanced over her shoulder to look at her mother for permission. "Yeah!" She exclaimed and looked back at me, nodding vigorously. "Where would we meet?" She asked curiously. "Um..." I glanced over my shoulder at Rebel since she was far more familiar with Naboo than I was. Therefore, she might have some good suggestions for meeting places. She was pointing down to the kitchen floor where she stood mouthing the word here, offering the palace as our meeting spot. It would be easy for the two of them to find since practically every Naboo resident knew where the landmark resided, and there would be plenty of interesting things to show Asyr, such as the stables, the lake, and the large intricate rooms themselves. Besides, the rest of the kids were already here, so introducing her to her half-siblings would be easy. I also thought she might be interested in Rebel's wardrobe and her extensive collection of elegant dresses as long as Rebel was willing to share that castle section with Asyr. Plus, not many ordinary citizens were allowed to tour the castle, so this would be a memorable experience for Asyr, one that I was determined to make as special as possible. "How would you like to hang out here at the castle?" I asked as I turned back to face Asyr. Her jaw dropped at the proposal, and her eyes widened. "You could wear your best dress and pretend to be a princess, and I could give you a tour," I enticed, further sweetening the deal, although it was clear she required no further persuasion. "What do you say?" I asked, smirking. "Mom?" She asked pleadingly and whipped her head around to look at her mother. "Whatever," Haneli answered apathetically with a flick of her wrist as I saw her cross the room behind Asyr without even looking at her. "Yeah, I'd love that!" Asyr responded politely and looked back at me. "Great!" I clapped my hands, and the action drew my attention to the watch on my wrist as I realized we hadn't yet established a time to meet. "Do you think you could be here around noon?" I asked as I angled the clock around my wrist toward my eyes and calculated that that time gave me enough time to get the kids clean and dressed and ensure they were presentable to meet their newest and oldest sibling. "Definitely!" Asyr nodded affirmatively. "Awesome!" I directed my attention away from the watch and back to my eldest daughter's face. "I'll see you then," I confirmed. "I can't wait! I'm thrilled you reached out to me, and I'm super excited to meet you," I said sincerely. "Me too! Bye, Dad!" She waved farewell, no doubt anxious to begin getting ready also. "Bye, kiddo." I winked, gave her a final wave of my hand, and ended the call. I spun around to face Rebel and searched her face for approval and feedback. She had a pleased smile plastered on her face. Was she...proud of me? If she was, force, that felt good. "Her mom seems nice," she said sarcastically, striding toward me again. I had noticed she'd taken a few steps away from me while Asyr and I were talking so she would be out of the frame and not detract attention from me, but she was always in frame for me. Nothing else truly had my full attention anymore because she constantly occupied my thoughts. She's in my life for good, and I want my kids to know her. I sincerely hoped she wasn't planning on hiding the entire time Asyr was here. I chuckled as I picked up on the satire in Rebel's tone, and I realized that while Rebel was right, she always was; Haneli could've been kinder to me; her treatment of me wasn't completely unwarranted. "I deserve it," I admitted truthfully and shrugged guiltily. "The way I treated girls in my teenage years wasn't right," I said through a yawn as I covered my agape mouth with the back of my hand, the exhaustion from last night finally hitting me. Rebel took another step closer to me with her brow furrowed in concern and placed her palm against my cheek as she gazed deeply into my eyes. Wow. If she stays like this much longer, I won't be able to convince myself that kissing her right now would be wrong. "Ash, when's the last time you slept?" She asked as she stroked my cheek with her thumb. I looked up at the ceiling to think because I couldn't answer her while looking at her since the only thought that rattled around in my hollow brain when my eyes were on her was, 'Kiss her.' I strived to remember the last time I had slept, and it seemed like it was only a short time ago, but at the same time, it seemed like it had been a long time, so I made an educated guess. "I slept three days ago, I think," I said hazily and hung my head. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb, hoping the action might spark a memory. "My memory is a little fuzzy." I giggled at my failure to remember and rubbed my forehead with the base of my palm, but she did not share my amusement. Instead, she appeared more worried. She removed her palm from my cheek, eliciting a whimper from me, which she ignored. "Why don't you let me take care of Sam for the day while you get some rest?" She gestured to my son, who had fallen asleep in her arms and patted my shoulder with the same hand. I began to protest, wanting to be awake when Asyr arrived so I wouldn't miss her, but Rebel dismissed my reason for denying her offer before I could even open my mouth. "I'll let you know when Haneli gets here," she offered willingly, lifting her hand off my shoulder and placing it underneath Sam, readjusting her grip on him. Her solution forced me to conjure up another excuse for her not to take care of him this afternoon. I couldn't allow her to take responsibility for him, not when I'd shown up out of the blue with a newborn, practically forcing her to take us in and giving her nothing in return. I certainly couldn't expect her to babysit my children while I napped. No one needed a nap more than her. She has her own children to care for and the entire Naboo population to represent. "No, Rebel." I shook my head and rubbed my heavy eyelids. "I couldn't ask you to do that. You're busy." I waved my palms side to side out in front of me in denial. "Not too busy to spend quality time with my nephew," she said offendedly. "And you're not asking; I'm offering," she corrected, placing her palm over her heart. "Come on, let me," she urged, giving my shoulder a gentle shove. "Take a nice long nap," she instructed. "You deserve it." That certainly wasn't true, but the more I looked at Sam dozing in Rebel's arms, the more I realized I wished that was me. Perhaps that was more about being in Rebel's arms than being asleep. Either way, I knew Rebel was a senator for a reason, and I knew there was no way she was giving up without a fight, and I was in no condition to fight. I promised myself I'd make it up to her later. With a final sigh of defeat, I propped both hands on my hips and gave her one last opportunity to back out. "Are you sure?" I asked hesitantly, fretting she might start beating me if I resisted much longer. She nodded and pursed her lips to prevent her excitement that she had finally worn me down from showing too much. I seized her arm, pulled her against me as close as possible without disturbing or crushing Sam, and hugged her. "Thank you so much," I whispered into her damp hair, kissing the top of her head as she wrapped her free arm around my middle and hugged me back. We leaned away from each other, gave each other a compassionate smile, and parted ways. I went to my bedroom, flopped on the bed, and tried to fall asleep. I lay there for a few minutes, but I couldn't fall asleep knowing Rebel was somewhere roaming the castle, and I was forgoing valuable opportunities to talk with her, joke with her, laugh with her, be with her. She consumed my thoughts, so I went looking for her. Trying to stay away from her is like the ocean trying to stay away from the shore. I'm constantly drawn to her. The way she speaks, the way she moves, the way her mind works, the way she faces challenges, and the million other little ways she manages to captivate me. There are endless little things about Rebel that drive me absolutely insane. I could spend infinite eternities with her, and it still wouldn't be long enough. I can't get enough of her. I want to be by her side constantly. I want to be her shadow. I want to be the echo of her voice. She's my new drug. She's addictive in the best possible way. The side effects of taking her are unconditional joy, everlasting peace, and unrivaled satisfaction. Why wouldn't I want to inject her into my veins every moment I can? I know it sounds cliche, but I followed my heart to find her. I just wandered down the halls until my heart compelled me toward a certain door; sure enough, it was hers. It was already cracked slightly open, so I tapped against it with the toe of my shoe enough to peek in and leaned against the doorframe on my right shoulder. I watched as she sat behind her desk, cradling Sam in her arms and cooing at him softly. She was so entranced with him that she didn't even seem to sense me in the doorway. Her eyes were locked on him as she gazed at him in adoration and fondness. It was a look that I longed to see directed at me. She only noticed me observing them once she looked up and saw me standing there. "What are you doing here?" She asked, her words sharp with slight irritation as her cheeks pinkened marginally in embarrassment that I'd caught her baby talking to my son. She shouldn't have been embarrassed, though. I do it all the time. "You're supposed to be asleep!" She scolded me. "I couldn't sleep." I shrugged, taking the fact that she wasn't ordering me out of her office as an invitation, and stepped inside. I drew closer and saw that she had changed clothes and was now wearing a beaded indigo gown underneath a patterned velvet overdress of a darker shade of purple with wide sleeves. An upside-down triangle array of glittering amethysts lay at the gown's neckline, spanning the width of her chest. My eyes scanned up the soft skin of her collarbone and landed on her neck, concealed beneath a choker of pure gold. It was barred horizontally with small slits for the eyes to peer through and catch brief glimpses of her throat, causing a groan to rumble in mine. I cleared my throat to mask the sound and glanced around the room to take my eyes off her. Books of every size and shape overflowed the shelves lining the walls on either side of us, and a vast window behind her offered a view of the city. The walls were a deep crimson, blood red, almost ruby. "Nice office," I commented. "It gets the job done." She shrugged, downplaying my compliment as her eyes disinterestedly roamed the room she had likely been confined to working in daily, so it was no longer appealing to her. I couldn't help it; my attention was again drawn to her. I had to know if she was enjoying her new role as a senator or if it was mundane compared to her previous professions. I had planned to ask her her opinion on the occupation the last time I had seen her, but there hadn't been enough time. I had wanted to talk to her about so many things. "Speaking of the job, how do you like it so far?" I asked, placing my palms on the desk in front of her and leaning on them. "I like it," she responded with a hint of positivity in her voice, which seemed like a good sign. "It's nice to have a say on the decisions the empire makes instead of fighting them once the Senate has already passed them, and it's nice to fight for the rebellion using words instead of firepower for a change," she explained, backing up her answer with reasoning. I grinned, relieved she enjoyed her new career to some degree and hadn't given up on her quest to serve the rebellion. Not that I ever thought she would. It was just nice to see evidence her resolve was still intact. "I'm glad you like it," I said contentedly and turned my attention to Sam, who I hated to disturb because I knew Rebel's arms must be the most comfortable place in the universe, but I also didn't want to wear Rebel out. "How's my boy?" I asked, taking my hands off the desk and holding my palms out to Rebel, flexing my fingers into them. "Ugh," she groaned annoyedly and began to shift his weight to hand him to me. I walked around the desk to stand beside her and make it easier for her to pass him to me as I waited for her to continue. "Well, he's definitely related to you," she said disparagingly, transferring him from her arms to mine. I cocked my head at her confusedly, wondering what she meant by that statement and why she had said it in that tone. "He's been ogling my chest all morning." She gestured to her chest while glaring at me. I chuckled ashamedly, feeling a blush slowly creeping up my neck. Thankfully, I knew from the smirk she was giving me, the way she told me, and past experience she was teasing, so I teased her back. "Look at that." I held Sam up in front of my face, supporting his head, and nuzzled my nose against his. "One day old, he can barely open his eyes, and he's already chosen the best view," I teasingly praised him, unable to help myself from stealing a glance at Rebel's chest as well. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," I murmured against my son's hair as I stared at her from the corner of my eye. She squinted at me, feigning offense and yanking the neckline of her gown higher to cover her cleavage. "I cannot believe you are condoning this behavior." She shook her head in mock disapproval and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I know." I chuckled, returning my attention to Sam. "I'm a bad influence," I said as I walked toward the chair on Rebel's left and sat down, laying Sam on his back in my lap. I tickled his tummy, softly brushing my fingertips over the fabric stretched over his extended belly since he'd just eaten, but he stared at me blankly, longing to return to Rebel's arms. I leaned over and placed my lips on his stomach, blowing a raspberry against his torso, trying to convince him I wasn't so bad. He appeared mildly amused at my attempt to win him over. I was about to try baby-talking but decided to sign to him instead. I needed a way to communicate with him, and sign language seemed to be our best bet, for now, at least. I didn't remember much my grandfather had taught me, but I had brushed up on a few words I figured would be important in my young son's life for the time being on the journey to Naboo. My beautiful baby boy, I signed to him, placing my palm over my heart, pointing my thumb at my chin and rolling my fingers across the front of my face clockwise, and bringing my fingers to my thumb in front of my forehead as if I were grasping a baseball cap. Then, I brought my hand down and transformed it into a flat hand, crossing my arms with my hands facing up, my dominant arm resting on the non-dominant arm as if cradling a baby. He seemed to enjoy that quite a bit and, as if he understood, giggled adorably. I grinned and repeated that one sentence several more times, earning more laughter each time. I wished I had signed to all my children when they were babies. I'm your daddy, I signed, pointing to myself, pushing my flat palm toward his face vertically, then tapping my thumb against the middle of my forehead with the rest of my fingers pointed upward. He cooed at me, his eyes suddenly widening with recognition as he reached for me. I sensed my features soften as it felt like my heart tumbled out of my chest. I leaned forward again and peppered his face with kisses, to which he squealed shrilly, and I reared back, looking at him with wide eyes, surprised such a sharp noise had come from such a tiny baby. He giggled heartily at my facial expression, and I cocked my head at the difference between the shriek that had just emitted from him to the guttural laugh that emerged from him. I stared at him for a few seconds as he returned my stare, then abruptly screamed, yelling at me for not continuing to entertain him. I gave a sputtering laugh, nearly spitting on him, for which I apologized in sign language by forming a fist with my hand and rubbing it in a circular motion around my chest. I got the strangest sense we were being watched, so I looked to my right, where the only other person in the room that I knew of was sitting. Sure enough, she was looking at us in amusement and adoration, resting her face on the backs of her hands with her elbows propped up against the desk's surface. Her documents were sprawled out and neglected on the desk before her. "We're distracting you," I assumed as I stood up from the chair with Sam in my arms. I could tell by the number of papers on her desk she was no doubt busy, and if we got out of her way and left her alone, she could get caught up on her work. I surmised she hadn't been able to get any work done this morning yet while watching Sam, especially now that I knew he screamed at you if you weren't consistently entertaining him. "We'll go," I said as I slung Sam over my shoulder, letting him rest his tiny, feather-light chin on my shoulder, and began walking toward the door. "No, don't go," she protested immediately, and I glanced over my shoulder to see her springing up from her chair and holding her palm up to me in a signal for me to halt. "Stay," she pleaded desperately. "I mean," she retracted her outstretched hand and fitted the fingers of both hands together, looking down at them as she knawed on her lower lip. "You can if you want to," she said timidly, looking up at me through her lashes. An uncontrollable grin broke out across my face. She wanted me to stay. "Are you sure we're not distracting you?" I asked skeptically, raising one eyebrow, wanting to hear her say again that she wanted me to stay. "Not at all." She lifted her head and smiled as she shook it. "Okay," I said doubtfully, trying to hide my elation under a veil of suspicion and my smile behind a smirk. "We'll stay then." I turned back around and plopped back down in the chair beside Rebel. She smiled at me and brushed her dress off with her palms, smoothing out the creases, but instead of sitting down again, she walked to the window behind her and gazed out at the city, her gown swishing as she turned. The sunlight pouring in bathed her face in a warm, inviting glow, making her appear to be made entirely of gold. Her hazel eyes, full of compassion, were fixed on the citizens she'd vowed to serve, crowding the streets below as they went about their daily activities. The most difficult thing I've ever had to do was sit there and not get up and kiss her. I shook my head and inquired about what she was doing to take my mind off the thought. "What are you doing?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained as what I really wanted to ask was, What are you doing to me? "Sometimes, I like to look out at the city for inspiration if I'm stuck," she said introspectively, locking her hands behind her back. "It reminds me of who I'm truly writing these speeches for," she explained, revealing the admirable motivation behind all her speeches. She's so smart. I wish I had a reply that was as smart as hers, but all I could do was admire her brilliance. Eventually, she completed her scan of the city and glanced at me for a response, chuckling when she saw me staring at her. I cleared my throat embarrassedly and returned my attention to Sam as she sat back down. A few moments later, while I was playing with Sam by taking his small fists that were curled around my index fingers and making him dance, Rebel groaned frustratedly. "Ugh." I looked over at her, prepared to eliminate the cause of her annoyance, and saw her face planted into her open palms. "What's wrong?" I asked, concerned as I pushed against the armrest with one hand to boost myself out of the chair, the other underneath Sam. "Something's off with this speech, but I can't put my finger on it," she complained, lifting her head off her palms and pinching the top right corner of the paper in front of her between her index finger and thumb as she held it up to me and wiggled it in front of my face. "Would you help me?" She asked, looking up at me helplessly as she laid it back on the desk. I wasn't sure how much help I could be since I'd never written a speech before, but I'd do everything possible if it meant helping her. "Sure." I shrugged and knelt beside her, cradling Sam under one arm as I angled the piece of paper on the desk toward me with my other hand. I read each eloquent, articulate, thoughtful, meticulously chosen word, getting swept up in the writing flow as it gently transported me through the address. The words were easy to understand but did not downplay her intelligence or affect the speech's eloquence. Every anecdote, call to action, and warning kept me enraptured to the final word. She emphasized each point clearly and powerfully. The pace was quick and to the point but slow, where it needed to be sympathetic and understanding. The introduction was magnetizing, and the ending was conclusive but kept you begging for more. It was like a bow, perfectly wrapping everything up and connecting everything she had mentioned previously. The purpose of her speech was obvious without being repetitive and without stating it so bluntly you felt as if she was ordering you to believe what she was telling you. It gradually won you over, even if you were already on her side. It was so personal; it felt like you were inside her mind, and I could practically already hear her voice reading it aloud in the senate chambers before thousands of onlookers. Still, at the same time, it was so versatile it could apply to anyone. It left you feeling determined to do something about the injustice but didn't make you feel guilty if you hadn't already aided the cause. Each word made me fall more in love with the speech and more in love with the woman who wrote it. How could she have possibly found fault with a single word on this page? Once I reached the end, I fought the urge to re-read it, wanting to be transported back into her mind, but I knew she was waiting for my feedback. No matter how badly I yearned to, I wouldn't tell her it was perfect, although that truly was my opinion because I knew she wouldn't believe me. "It's amazing, Rebel," I said, looking into her expectant eyes. She sighed, disappointed I didn't have any suggestions for her. "Yeah, but it could be better." She bit the nails on her right hand and shifted the speech to face her again with her left hand, sliding it across the slick surface of the desk so it was directly underneath her eyes. I hated seeing her like this, so unsure when she was usually so confident, and I knew I couldn't convince her that her speech was perfect, so I decided to take one more look at it. I slid the paper back toward me and scanned over it, forcing myself not to become entranced by the words again. "Alright," I said, grabbing a pen from a cup on her desk. "What if you did…" I pulled the cap off with my teeth since Sam occupied my other hand and chose a few sentences that I could potentially rearrange, scratching out the words, although it pained me to do so, and rewriting the sentence in the margins. "This?" I asked with a lisp since I still held the cap to the pen between my teeth as I slid the speech back toward her for approval. Her eyes widened as she reviewed the minor adjustments, and I worried I'd gone too far. "Ash, that-that's perfect," she stuttered in surprise as she turned to look at me, her face softening in sincerity. "Thank you," she said quietly, her brow furrowing in gratitude. I scoffed, brushing off her commendation with a flick of the wrist. "Please, you're the real mastermind. I just rearranged a few things," I said, my speech slurred and muffled because of the pen cap still in my mouth. She chuckled and reached for it, the fingertips of her leathery gloves grazing my lips as she gently took it from me. I wondered what it would feel like if her actual fingertips brushed my lips. She must've realized what she'd done, too, because her smile instantly vanished, and her eyebrows shot up as she swallowed hard. I thought I saw her gaze drop down to my lips briefly, but I couldn't be sure because a shrill beep interrupted us, causing us to jump. She scrambled, rifling through stacks of documents as she searched for the origin of the sound. Eventually, she uncovered a screen displaying a view of the castle entrance from above, where a woman and girl stood, waiting outside the main entrance. "She's here," Rebel said, turning toward me. It took me a moment to realize she was referring to Haneli and Asyr. I'd almost forgotten Rebel and I weren't the only two people in the galaxy. A man can dream, though, can't he? "I'll hold Sam for you," she offered, holding her outstretched arms toward me. I wanted her to accompany me, but I'd already asked her to stand by me the first time I spoke with Asyr. Perhaps she was tired of me, and I didn't want to appear too clingy. Although, I rely on her for practically everything now. Once Asyr is comfortable enough with me, I'll introduce her to Rebel. "Thank you," I accepted her offer and placed Sam in her arms. I stood and brushed myself off, smoothing the creases in my plain white undershirt. I hadn't had much time to pack before leaving Kashyyyk; otherwise, I would've dressed more presentably. "How do I look?" I asked, looking up at Rebel, holding my arms up at my sides. She slowly scanned my body, starting at my chest and raking her wide-eyed gaze all the way down to my feet. I suddenly felt hot, self-conscious, and exposed as her eyes roved over my body, evaluating me. I gulped as her eyes steadily moved back up to meet mine again, and I waited for her verdict. I've never felt insecure in my own skin before, except when I had that buzz cut during my sophomore year. Only Rebel can do that to me...or a bad haircut. "You look great," she said through a smile as our eyes reconnected. I sighed in relief and relaxed my arms, letting them slap down against my sides. I turned and headed toward the door, sharing one last glance with Rebel before I exited the room. I hurried to the main entrance, hoping I hadn't already exhausted Haneli's patience. I grabbed the handle of one of the doors and slung it open. "Hi," I greeted them cheerfully and waved, glancing between them, observing their similarities since this was the first time I saw them side by side. They shared each other's hair color and face shape for sure, but I hoped Asyr hadn't inherited her mother's personality. "Ash," Haneli stated my name in the same condescending fashion she had this morning, her features hard as stone. "You look the same," she said disinterestedly, scanning my body up and down, and I shuddered. I felt insecure for an entirely different reason this time. "Slightly more handsome, which is annoying," she growled while scowling at me. I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not, so to ease the tension, I gave her a clear compliment. One that I would only ever mean about one woman, but hopefully, it would make this interaction more pleasant. "Well, you look fantastic," I said, gesturing to her up and down with one hand as I prevented the giant, heavy door on my right from slamming shut in their faces with my other. I searched for some aspect of her physical appearance to compliment her on specifically, but I could find none, so I shut my mouth, hopefully before she noticed what I was attempting to do. I leaned against the door with my right shoulder to free up my hand and scratched the back of my neck at the awkward silence that ensued. "You don't remember me at all, do you?" She asked scornfully, cocking her head as she squinted at me. "What?" I asked sarcastically, embarrassed she saw right through me, but I refused to let her know she was correct. "That's ridiculous!" I proclaimed, swatting my hand at her, interested to see how long I could keep this up as I hoped to make her crack first, back down, and apologize for doubting me. "Of course I-" But the longer I tried to convince her I recognized her, the more skeptical she became as she crossed her arms, and her glare became more withering. "No, I don't," I admitted, hanging my head in shame. "Not at all," I confessed further and shook my head as I avoided her eyes. "I'm so sorry," I said contritely and bit my lip, looking up at her again. She sighed, ignoring my apology, and shoved her daughter toward me. "This is Asyr," she said apathetically, and I extended my arms toward Asyr, prepared to catch her as she stumbled from the roughness of the shove. Once Asyr caught her balance and assured me she was okay by looking up at me with a grateful smile and a nod, I shot a pointed glare at Haneli, in no way trying to be discreet. "Hello." I was sure my facial expression morphed entirely as I looked down at Asyr again and stuck my hand out, expecting a handshake. Instead, she gave me an unsure grin and threw herself against me, wrapping me in a tight embrace. "Aww," I cooed, hugging her back without a second thought. She almost came up to where Rebel would stand when she hugged me. I wasn't sure if that made her tall for her age or short. "Do you like to play outside?" I asked as she leaned out of the hug and knelt to her level, placing my hand on her shoulder. She clasped her hands together beneath her chin and nodded enthusiastically. She hadn't said a word herself yet. I got the sense she was reserved in person. That certainly hadn't come from me. It didn't seem like it had come from Haneli either, though. Unless it was a byproduct of her treatment toward her. If that were the case, things would soon change because I wasn't letting anything harm her ever again. "There's a huge backyard here, and you could meet your half-siblings," I said as I stood up and draped my arm over Asyr's shoulders, turning toward the castle's interior without inviting Haneli to join us. She could stay or leave at this point. I couldn't care less. I led Asyr to the courtyard and set her loose where Martha had already brought the rest of the kids to play. I watched them introduce themselves to each other, then turned around to sit on one of the chairs congregated around a table shaded by an umbrella. I saw Haneli already seated, her hands idly fiddling with the rim of the table, her eyes nowhere near her daughter. I signed disappointedly, already dreading sending Asyr home with this woman, and approached her leisurely, still attempting to be polite. At the same time, my body warned me to stay as far away from her as possible. "Would you like something to drink?" I asked as I came to a stop before her. "Sure," she said passively and shrugged, never dropping her apathetic attitude. I went inside to the kitchen, fixed a pitcher of lemonade while keeping an eye on the kids through the window, and poured us each a glass. I brought the two glasses and the pitcher outside, placed one of the glasses in front of her, and set the pitcher down on the center of the table. I sat across from her and sipped at the refreshing citrusy drink, surveying the field the kids played tag on. "You got a lot of women knocked up, didn't you?" She asked condescendingly, hiding her smirk behind her glass as she brought it to her lips. I whipped my head toward her and glared. That struck a chord with me. No way was I letting her call my children illegitimate. These children had a mother and father who loved them, cared for them, and welcomed them into their lives instead of begrudgingly tolerating their presence as she had done. I would raise all of them in a stable household surrounded by love and encouragement. Even if these children weren't biologically mine, I would ensure that. Thankfully, my paternal instincts didn't cancel out my politeness altogether. "Oh, no." I shook my head, clenching my fist under the table out of her sight. "These are all mine and my wife's." I gestured to the giggling kids chasing each other and rolling around on the grass before us. "We've been together for five years," I added, throwing the prolonged period of stability I've provided for the kids in her face. "Let me guess;" She set her half-empty glass on the table. "You married her because you got her pregnant, and it's an open marriage," she assumed, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms as she arched her brow at me challengingly. I sputtered at the irony that she was accusing our marriage of being based on disloyalty when it was actually Rue's suspicion of me cheating that had caused our marriage to crumble. "Uh, no, definitely not," I shook my head, chuckling humorlessly and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "And we got married before we had kids," I disproved her theory, addressing the less shocking accusation last. She squinted, displeased she had failed to estimate me correctly. "I don't believe you," she said skeptically. "Where is she?" She demanded. Uh-oh. I wasn't prepared for that. I was reluctant to admit we had just split up because it would be too consequential for her to believe it was true, even though it was. She must've seen the panic on my face because she smirked and lifted her head victoriously. "She's, uh-" I stammered, prepared to fumble for words until she believed me or got bored and left. "I'm right here." Rebel? I whipped around to see her standing behind me, cradling Sam in her arms and waving at me by wiggling her fingers. My savior. My hero. "Hi, babe," she greeted me with a pet name as if she had always called me that and winked at me. Wow, I wish I was her babe. Rebel, thank you for doing this, but she's never gonna believe you married me. You're way too good for me. I stared at her for a few moments, unsure how to react, searching Rebel's face for an indication of how to proceed. However, she never dropped her act as she tilted her head and waited for me to address her affectionately. "Hey, princess." I played along, calling her by the nickname I knew Benji called her to, hopefully, make our relationship more natural and easier for her to pretend we were married. "Aww, what a cute baby!" Haneli commented, suddenly pretending she was the biggest fan of kids as she interlocked her hands beneath her chin and leaned her cheek on them. "Thank you," Rebel said appreciatively, brimming with pride as if she had personally given birth to Sam. She might as well have. She's so good with him, and she's already done far more for him than his biological mother. "He's one day old," she added proudly, looking down at him and wiggling her finger in front of his face, grinning when he latched onto it with both chubby hands. "Wow, you look great for one day postpartum!" Haneli exclaimed, gesturing to Rebel up and down. She looked down at her perfect body and considered Haneli's statement. "Yeah." She nodded, agreeing with Haneli, finally giving her body a measure of the respect it deserved. Now, all that's left is to get her to accept that she looks great. Period. No, considering this, exceptions that. She's just perfect. She's the standard. "Yep, I do," she said confidently, looking up at Haneli again and striding forward to take a seat at the table. There's our girl. My manners finally caught up to me, and I leaped to my feet as I should've when she first entered and pulled out a chair beside me for her to sit in. "Thank you," she whispered to me gratefully as she sat, folding her dress underneath her sophisticatedly, and I waited until she was seated to push her chair in closer to the table. I retrieved a third glass from the kitchen, the most elegant, intricate, valuable one I could find with my untrained eye, and brought it to Rebel, pouring her a serving of lemonade. We sat together watching the kids, playing with Sam, conversing casually about the kids. It was so easy to pretend Rebel was my wife. It felt more natural than a single day I'd spent married to Rue. It felt more natural than breathing, than walking, than swallowing. It was right. We had so much in common. We already had good banter established from years of being best friends. We knew how to tease each other without stepping on the other's nerves or embarrassing each other. We knew how to maneuver around each other. We finished each other's sentences on multiple occasions. We were so comfortable with each other. I think we were surprising each other by how well we were pulling this off while somehow not being shocked since we were already aware we knew each other better than anyone else. We could talk about the kids as if they were our own because they were ours. I had always considered Kai, Kali, and Armani my own, and Rebel clearly considered Ria and Sam hers. Rue had never adopted the triplets as her own because she claimed no one could ever replace Rebel, which was true; no one could, but I'd never tried to replace Sawyer. I'd only been what was needed of me: a father. Rue was never a mother to the triplets. A fear of angering Rebel distanced her from them and made her nothing more than an aunt to them, but a fear of disappointing Rebel motivated me to do the opposite. I had a desire to do my utmost to ensure they were raised the way Rebel wanted until she could pick up where I'd left off rather than uphold my same position in their lives and lie stagnant until Rebel could take over. It was easier to apologize to the kids for overstepping my bounds and having more of a say in their lives than I should've, than apologize to them for being more absent than I should've and explain to them that I'd done so out of fear. What kind of lesson was that? It all came down to the fact that I'd rather beg for forgiveness than ask for permission, and Rebel and I had that fundamental aspect of our personalities in common. I'd almost forgotten Haneli was there a couple of times. I was so convinced that this was real, that Rebel and I were married, that the children were biologically ours, and that all my dreams were being fulfilled. I was so wrapped up in this reality that Haneli's next words completely threw me for a loop as if someone had just dropped a bucket of ice on my head. "I don't believe you two are married," she said doubtfully, leaning back in her chair, scrutinizing us, pointing at us with her index finger, and propping her left ankle up on her right knee as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I haven't seen you touch all afternoon," she said, leaning forward and propping her elbows up on the table as she glanced between us, waiting to see who would crack first. I glanced at Rebel, my cheeks burning, and I saw her gnawing on her lower lip, both of us wondering how we would explain that. That was the one thing we were lacking. We were both still trying to respect the fact that the other was married, so we were refraining from the hand-holding, gentle arm touches, playful hair tousles, and thigh squeezes I would not have been able to resist doing had we actually been married. I struggled to find a way to excuse our lack of outward affection until I remembered that not all couples were lovey-dovey in public. Surely Haneli couldn't fault us for that, right? "Oh, we're not exactly big on public displays of affec-" The next thing I knew, Rebel was kissing me. She's kissing me. I'm kissing Rebel! Oh my force, oh my force, oh my force! Okay, calm down. What are you supposed to do when a girl is kissing you? Are you serious, Ash?! How did you forget?! You've done this like a million times! Something about this time was different, though. It was...perfect. It was so perfect I was afraid movement of any kind might tarnish this flawless moment. Holy kriff, this is the best day of my entire life. Okay, focus. First, close your eyes, you moron. What are you doing with your eyes open?! Now, kiss her back, you idiot! Your lips will remember the rest. Sure enough, they did. Her free hand that wasn't under Sam clutched my shirt, which enabled her to kiss me in the first place by pulling me closer. Her grip on the fabric was so tight it seemed like she was still worried about putting on a convincing enough show for that woman sitting there, whatever her name was, rather than indulging herself in the moment like I was. I wanted to help her relax and enjoy this impeccable moment as much as I was, so I reached up to slip her hand into mine, and her fist unclenched as soon as our skin made contact. She flatted her palm against my chest as I allowed my fingers to stretch across the back of her hand, tickling her skin with my fingertips and sending goosebumps down her arm. I felt her shiver against me, and I knew she liked it. I strove not to sever the kiss with my smile prematurely, so I waited until I could subdue my grin before continuing. She had arched her hand, keeping the base of her palm against my chest while her nails sank into the skin separating her from my heart, threatening to claw her way in, right where I wanted her to be. The action created a gap for me to slip my fingers underneath her hand, between her palm and my chest. I nuzzled my way into the divide and enveloped her small hand with mine, stroking the back with my thumb, longing to rip these gloves off and experience what her real skin felt like. I placed my other hand on the back of her shoulder before scooting my chair closer to hers, ensuring the scraping sound of the chair legs against the concrete wouldn't startle her and cause her to abruptly pull away and terminate the kiss since she would know it was just me. Having her in my arms and my lips on hers shouldn't have felt like coming home after being away for years. It felt right, but that couldn't be. Rebel wasn't mine. I would never be good enough for her. She deserved the universe, and that wasn't something I could offer. But I want to believe I can grow into someone who deserves her. Once I had allowed her time to adjust to the sensation of my hand on her shoulder, I gradually wound my arm around her back and up to her neck, all the while gently caressing the back of her hand with my thumb, soothing her and assuring her I had her and nothing would ever hurt her again. I cupped the nape of her neck and tenderly tilted her head upward, granting me better access to her mouth. As soon as I tightened my hold on her neck, she let out a half whimper, half sigh and practically melted into me. Mission accomplished. But as soon as the sound escaped her lips, she ceased kissing me and shoved against my chest to split us up before she became too invested. She cleared her throat and brushed off her dress, smoothing the imaginary creases. Her cheeks were more pink than I'd ever seen them before. I don't think she's ever been kissed like that before, the way she deserves. I leaned back and rested my elbow on the table and my cheek on my hand as I sighed wistfully, replaying the moment in my mind. I'll be replaying that moment until the day I die. I'll see it in my dreams, I'll see it when I wake up, I'll see it when I look at her, and every moment in between. "Ash has just been giving me space since the baby's birth," Rebel spoke the first words between us in what felt like an eternity, her voice quivering as she refused to look Haneli in the eye. I've never heard Rebel's voice waver. She's always so poised and composed. I realized with a smirk that I'd managed to break through that composure. To this day, that is my crowning accomplishment. "He's been very patient," she said timidly and glanced at me. Yes, I have been. I've been waiting for that since the moment I met her. She held my gaze briefly before turning to look at Haneli. "Believe us now?" She asked. "Yep," Haneli said curtly, pushing her chair out from underneath herself as she stood. "Excuse me. I'm going to the refresher," she announced as she walked past us, hardly a fleeting, annoying blur in the background as I stared at Rebel, the setting sun adding to her already plentiful natural glow. I was sure my eyes were sparkling, but only because she was in my sight. I'm convinced she's composed of diamonds. She shines brighter than any star. All the glitter in the universe pales in comparison to her luminescence. She immediately brightens every room she enters. That's why she's my sun. My heart. My best friend. My love. My everything. "We never speak of this again," she said sternly and lifted my limp left arm hanging down at my side, bent it at the elbow, and placed it in my lap, creating a hammock to place Sam in. It took me a few moments to react since I was still trying to recover. I shook my head as my eyes adjusted to the Rebel-less space before me. She hadn't just disappeared, had she? She hadn't been a figment of my imagination this entire time, right? That would actually be more realistic than accepting what had just occurred was reality. I looked down and saw my son in my arms. It was a miracle he hadn't rolled out of my grasp because I certainly hadn't been holding onto him very tightly. I immediately tensed my muscles underneath him and supported him more securely as I leaped out of my seat and raced after Rebel, who was only a few steps from the back entrance of the castle. "Wait, Rebel!" I called after her, but she didn't stop until I caught up to her and grasped her upper arm, spinning her around to face me. She looked down at my hand clutching her arm and into my eyes with a slightly fearful expression. I immediately released her and stepped back. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten her. My intention had only been to commend her on her fantastic kissing abilities. "That was…" I trailed off, gesturing into empty air since there was no word to sum up that experience accurately. Eventually, I settled for imitating my brain exploding, since that was basically what had happened, by forming my hand into a fist and pressing my knuckles against my temple, wiggling my fingers as they broke free of the fist, away from my head, and I made explosion noises with my mouth. "Really?" She squinted at me and cocked her head, planting her hands on her hips. "That's the best you can do?" She asked, crossing her arms and arching her eyebrow. I paused for a moment as I thought of something better to say. "No," I shook my head and took a deep breath, hoping what I was about to say was meaningful enough. "I meant to say," I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Rebel, you're an excellent kisser," I said admiringly as my knees wobbled at the reminder of our mind-blowingly amazing kiss. My best ever, all because of her. She rolled her eyes teasingly with a flattered smile as she spun sharply on her heel and strutted toward the castle. She paused in the doorway, her palms pressed against either side of the doorframe, and looked back at me over her shoulder. "I know," she taunted in a low voice and flipped her hair at me before heading inside. Wow. She- Force, this woman… Ugh, okay, it's official. I'm completely obsessed with her. Was there ever any doubt?