AN: This is pretty long because it's kind of late! Thanks for your reviews :)!

"Oh my God, Bella, did you know they have turndown service here?"

I turned toward the voice, already smiling. My parents were such polar opposites it was comical.

Renee was padding barefoot through the sand like she was floating, oversized sunglasses perched on her head, her sundress fluttering dramatically, looking absolutely thrilled with everything. Phil followed behind her, looking amused and mildly winded, still wearing sneakers for some reason.

"Mom, you act like this is your first time at a resort," I said, shifting over on my lounge chair to make room.

"Not like this one," she declared, flopping onto the chair beside me with the excitement of a woman who had never once in her life left a hotel review under four stars. "Bella, they leave chocolates on the pillow. Little square ones, individually wrapped. And the blanket—oh my God, they tuck it in with corners. Like… hospital corners. I feel so seen."

Phil flopped onto a towel beside her. "She watched housekeeping do it. Stood in the hallway like she was witnessing a miracle."

"They fluffed the pillows," Renee said, wide-eyed. "I'm not making this up."

Edward, lying beside me, peeked over his sunglasses. "Fluffed them, huh?"

"I'm serious!" Renee sat up straighter, fully committed to her enthusiasm. "And! They have sunset bonfires. With a s'mores butler."

Edward choked on his drink. "A what?"

"A s'mores butler," she said confidently. "You book a private firepit, and someone sets everything up and roasts them for you. Like… artisanal marshmallow distribution."

"That's not real," I said, laughing.

"It is! I read it in the pamphlet in our room."

"She read every pamphlet," Phil added. "I was brushing my teeth, and she was reading me facts about sand crabs."

Edward blinked, still wrapping his head around the concept. "So… some poor employee just stands there and makes s'mores for strangers?"

"I tipped him in advance," Renee said proudly. "We're already booked for tomorrow night."

"Of course we are," Phil mumbled.

Edward turned to me, eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. "Your mom makes itineraries too?"

"Color-coded ones," I said, because if I didn't call her out, she'd absolutely do it herself. "With emojis."

Renee beamed, totally unbothered. "Emojis are efficient, Isabella. You always know what kind of activity it is. Sunrise yoga? Sun emoji. Poolside cocktails? Martini emoji. Snorkeling? Fish. Romantic dinner? Heart with sparkles."

Edward raised his drink in solidarity. "Honestly? I respect the grind."

Renee started pulling sunscreen out of a tote bag that could comfortably fit a golden retriever. "Oh! I brought extra SPF. Just in case. I don't trust these travel-size ones. They give you two tablespoons and a dream."

Phil rolled his eyes. "You brought four bottles. For two people."

Renee shrugged. "Skin is your largest organ, Philip. It deserves support."

Edward whispered in my ear, "She's where you get it from."

I smiled. "You think?"

"I live in constant fear of being color-coded."

"Good," I said sweetly, squeezing his thigh. "Keep it that way."

Renee popped open a bottle of sunscreen and started dotting it across her collarbone. "Alright, what's next on the agenda?"

Phil didn't even look up. "Improv nap."

"Oh, you're no fun," she said, nudging him with her knee.

Before I could respond, a high-pitched scream from the ocean yanked all of our heads toward the water.

Jax came barreling at Declan like a tiny, sunburnt linebacker, launching them both into the surf with a large splash. Sand flew. Arms flailed. There was zero coordination, zero hesitation, and absolutely no concern for bodily harm.

Phil squinted into the sun. "Jesus. Is that normal?"

"Unfortunately," Edward said, not even looking up from his drink. "This is actually low-level mayhem."

I took a sip of my margarita, watching as Jax resurfaced with seaweed in his hair and Declan immediately tried to drown him again. "They've definitely gotten calmer. Nobody's cried yet."

Phil grunted, still eyeing the frothy battlefield. "That kid just yelled 'surrender the treasure' and tackled a sand bucket."

"Yeah, that was Declan. He thinks he's a pirate today," Edward said.

Phil snorted, clearly unsure whether to be impressed or terrified.

Renee, meanwhile, had gone very still beside me, her sunglasses sliding down her nose as she watched the chaos unfold. Carlisle was waist-deep in the waves, trying and failing to get them to stand in one place for more than two seconds.

"NO TACKLING!" he bellowed.

Another shriek. Another splash.

Renee blinked. "Edward, sweetie," she said slowly, "how many siblings do you have again?"

"Fourteen," Edward replied easily, like it was no big deal. "Fifteen, counting me."

Renee turned to me with a bright, unnerving smile. "So… should I also be expecting fifteen grandkids?"

I choked on my drink. "Mom. No."

"Why not? You've got a head start," she said, gesturing to the ocean like it was some kind of fertility prophecy. "This family clearly doesn't do anything halfway."

"Okay, relax," I said, dabbing my face with a towel. "Just because Edward has a hundred siblings doesn't mean we're building our own army."

Edward shrugged. "I mean, hypothetically—"

I cut him off. "Don't finish that sentence."

Phil chuckled, watching Carlisle finally herd the kids out of the surf like a flock of wet, screaming ducks. "Your dad deserves a medal."

Edward raised his drink in salute. "That man's seen things."

"No kidding," Phil muttered. "I just saw a child try to waterboard another child with a plastic shovel."

"Oh, that's nothing," I said. "Wait 'til someone suggests playing dodgeball with beach chairs."

Renee shook her head, still smiling. "It's like being dropped into a live-action cartoon."

Edward smirked. "Welcome to the Cullens."

By the time we'd rinsed the last of the sand off and refueled with another round of drinks, the family started splintering for "relaxation time."

A hilarious concept, really. The Cullens didn't do relaxation. They did competitive lounging. Intense spa itineraries. Group hikes with color-coded water bottles. The only people who might actually relax were the toddlers, and even that felt like a gamble.

There were murmurs of spa appointments. Some of the group planned to wander into town for shopping, artisanal gelato, and overpriced beach hats. I was this close to joining them—until I saw her.

Alice.

Watching me from across the pool deck with all the grace and menace of a silent assassin. She didn't blink. She didn't wave. Just narrowed her eyes like I was a mission she had already completed in her mind.

I knew that look. I feared that look.

The "Bella, don't make this harder than it needs to be" look. The "I've already prepaid and confirmed and tipped" look.

I sighed like I was being pulled into battle. "Alice, I really just want to spend time with Edward—"

Rosalie snorted from her lounge chair, where she was currently braiding Maeve's hair and looking deeply unbothered. "You haven't left each other's side since we landed."

"We're getting married," I said, like that explained everything. "Is that not the point?"

Rachel raised her drink from the next cabana over. "I mean… she's not wrong."

Alice said nothing. Just looped her arm through mine with zero subtlety and started steering me toward the spa like she'd been personally hired to overhaul my pores.

"You're coming with us," she said sweetly. "Facials. Massages. Steam room. Hot stones. Serenity, bitch."

"Hot stones?" I muttered. "Are we cooking me or relaxing me?"

Alice didn't even flinch. "Both."

I twisted around, trying a last-ditch attempt at rescue. "Edward. Tell her I need to stay with you."

Edward, who had been silently observing from a chaise lounge, drink in hand, sunglasses on, no help whatsoever, grinned slowly.

"I mean, I do love having you around," he said, "but… Alice looks like she'll drag you by your ankles if you resist."

Alice beamed. Rosalie smirked. I groaned like someone had just sentenced me to death by cucumber slices.

"Traitor," I muttered at Edward.

Truthfully, I wasn't mad. I would never, ever, under any circumstances, turn down a spa day. But it was the principle of the thing. I was being kidnapped in broad daylight and no one was going to stop it.

Meanwhile, the guys were heading to the golf course, which—thank fuck—was an activity I had zero interest in. Carlisle had somehow wrangled Edward, Jasper, and Peter into playing eighteen holes with him, like it was the pinnacle of manhood. Esme even packed them a cooler and color-coordinated their visors.

The idea of Edward playing golf in a fitted polo shirt was… not unappealing. But watching him putt for four hours in a sport that moves slower than molasses?

Hard pass.

Edward must've read my mind, because as Alice tugged me toward the spa entrance, he called out, "You know, you could caddy for me. Hold my balls."

I didn't miss a beat. "I already hold your balls, baby. Emotionally, spiritually, and on most weeknights after nine."

Edward choked on a laugh. Peter fist-bumped him.

Alice didn't stop walking. "She's going to hold your dignity together, Cullen. Try not to lose it out there."

Jasper, passing us in a crisp button-down, grinned. "Pray for us."

Peter muttered, "Carlisle made a PowerPoint. About tee etiquette."

I winced. "Yikes. Good luck."

And just like that, Edward was off to play golf with the dads, and I was being dragged, willingly-unwillingly, into spa day.

I had to admit: the spa was stupid nice.

I'd washed off hours of beach and seawater in my room and now we were back by the spa. The second we stepped inside, the air hit me—crisp eucalyptus and high-end moisturizer, like someone had bottled luxury, added a few drops of lavender, and charged you $200 for it. Everything was soft and glowy and peaceful in a way that made me instantly forget I'd been kidnapped by a woman in a linen jumpsuit.

Alice was already halfway to the front desk, practically vibrating with purpose. Clipboard in hand, sunglasses shoved into her hair like a crown, she looked like a tiny, hyper-organized general about to deploy her troops.

"This place smells like money," Rachel whispered behind me. "I feel like I should apologize for existing."

"I feel like I should be whispering," Rebecca added, wide-eyed as she stared at the softly lit interior. "Even the towels look expensive."

It was just the seven of us—Alice, Rosalie, me, Rachel, Rebecca, Angela and Tia. Everyone else had scattered for the afternoon. Some of the moms had taken the older kids into town for ice cream and sightseeing, most of the guys went golfing, and the rest of the group had claimed pool chairs like it was a competitive sport.

Alice turned, radiant and mildly terrifying. "I've got everything booked—facials first, then massages. Rosalie, you're doing deep tissue. Bella, I got you the hydrating facial because, well—" She paused mid-sentence, squinting at me.

I narrowed my eyes. "Because what?"

Alice smiled far too sweetly. "Because I love you. And your skin's a little… parched."

Rosalie snorted, already dropping into one of the plush chairs in the waiting area. "That's Alice-speak for 'you look tired and dry.'"

I rolled my eyes and flopped into the chair beside her. "She's lucky I'm too dehydrated to fight."

Angela dropped into the next seat. "Honestly? This place could tell me my aura's out of alignment and I'd just apologize and ask how to fix it."

Rebecca nodded. "If this isn't heaven, it's definitely the VIP lounge next door."

Tia was flipping through the spa menu, looking extremely focus. "I want them to do whatever Gwyneth Paltrow would do—minus the yoni candle."

"Hard pass on yoni anything," Rachel muttered, rubbing her temples. "But if someone can fix the mess I've made of my neck from scrolling on my phone in bed, I'll tip them in gold."

Alice clapped once. "Alright, glowworms. Phones off. Robes on. Let's go become the best versions of ourselves."

And just like that, I was swept away—down a softly lit hallway, wrapped in a robe so plush it felt illegal, praying someone would rehydrate me into a better woman. Or at least exfoliate my regrets.

Five minutes later, I was face-up on a warm treatment table while someone rubbed something that smelled like honey, cucumber, and financial security into my skin. I don't know what they were using—angel tears? Unicorn balm?—but my soul started ascending. I could've been abducted by aliens mid-facial and still would've asked them to wait until the esthetician finished my T-zone.

Halfway through, I couldn't tell if my face was still attached, but I no longer cared. A lovely woman, who I now learned was named Renata, massaged serum into my forehead while whispering affirmations I'm pretty sure she made up on the spot. I believed every word.

Alice might be bossy as hell, but I'd follow her into any spa treatment, anywhere, anytime.

Until Tia asked, "So… who's getting their nipples scrubbed?"

I choked. Okay. Maybe not that treatment.

Alice didn't even blink. "That's only if you book the full body polish. Optional add-on."

Tia blinked. "You knew that off the top of your head."

"I do my research."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "Alice, please tell me you didn't book anyone the full scrub without asking first."

Silence.

"Oh my God," I groaned. "Did you?"

"I said optional!" Alice said defensively. "But it's good exfoliation!"

"Of what?!" Rachel cried, laughing so hard she almost dropped her spa water.

"They give you these little disposable underwear things," Rebecca said helpfully, like that was the part we were worried about.

"Jesus Christ," I hissed. "I just wanted a massage, not a holy baptism."

Angela was laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "Bella's gonna come out of this glowing and traumatized."

I peeked through the towel. "Edward's gonna be like, 'Why do you smell like hibiscus and fear?'"

"You smell like bridal serenity," Alice corrected. "And yes, maybe a little hibiscus. That's the signature scent."

We were shuffled into the steam room next, and stayed in there just long enough to start questioning our life choices—and then we were moving again. "Alright, team. Time to rinse, hydrate, and transition. Massages next!"

The massage rooms were quiet and dimly lit, with soft music and lavender-scented everything. I was face-down on the table for about four seconds before I mentally left my body.

Somewhere in the middle of having my spine melted back into alignment, I became convinced I could forgive every person who had ever wronged me.

Nathan, who broke up with me via Post-It note freshman year.

Professor Ellis, who once wrote "LOL?" in the margin of my final paper.

That one barista who spelled my name "BeLugh" on a to-go cup like they were actively trying to summon a demon.

Even Clarissa Stanley for pretending to like my bangs in 2012 when they very clearly made me look like Lord Farquaad.

It was fine. I was fine. My chakras were balanced. My back no longer felt like a stack of Jenga blocks. The spa had cleansed me of my grudges and at least 40% of my personality.

Rosalie got deep tissue and emerged after like she'd just wrestled a bear. "I think she found trauma in my shoulder blade," she muttered, blissed out.

"I might've moaned," Rachel confessed.

"You definitely did," Angela confirmed, giggling as she adjusted her robe.

Finally, we wrapped it all up in the nail room—plush chairs, soft jazz, and more citrus water than anyone could reasonably drink. By now, I was barely functional. The facial had left my skin glowier than it had been in years, and the massage had turned my spine into warm pudding. The whole spa smelled like heaven, and I was a brand new woman.

"You good?" Rosalie asked as I slumped into the next treatment chair.

"Don't talk to me," I mumbled. "I've transcended."

"Same," Rebecca whispered. "My soul left my body during the scalp massage."

"I think I saw your soul," Tia said sleepily from her chair. "It waved at me on its way out."

Alice grinned, looking proud as hell. "See? Aren't you glad you listened to me?"

I mumbled something that was supposed to be "fine, I admit it," but mostly sounded like "mfgh, yeah."

Rachel peeked at her toes. "I'm gonna be so annoying when I walk out of here. Like, I will not shut up about this place."

"Same," Angela said. "I'm gonna start recommending it to strangers at Trader Joe's."

Alice, of course, was already perched like she owned the damn place, her hands stretched out as the nail tech filed her within an inch of her life. "See?" she said, smug and glowing. "Trust the maid of honor."

I leaned back in my chair, robe wrapped around me, skin dewy and soul clean. "Okay, fine. You win. This was worth the kidnapping."

"I know. Now, Mrs. Almost-Cullen," she continued, grinning at me. "Let's talk married life."

I snorted, letting my eyes drift toward the ceiling as my own nail tech gently worked over my hands. "You've been married, what, two years? You say that like you've been through the trenches."

Alice lifted a brow. "Two years is long enough to earn wisdom, thanks. Learn from me before you're screaming at Edward over who left the Brita filter empty."

Rosalie, across from us, leaned back in her chair. "She's not wrong. And I've been married longer."

"To a literal human golden retriever," Rachel added, grinning. "So that's basically expert level."

Rosalie laughed under her breath. "Yeah, well. Marriage and twins? That's not wisdom—that's survival."

I winced. "You deserve combat pay."

Angela chimed in from her chair, legs crossed, totally blissed out. "Honestly? Edward basically helped raise half the family. He's ready."

I tilted my head. "You think?"

"Mhmm. He was like, eight, already changing diapers and making breakfast. Mike and James owe him their lives. And me, but don't tell him that."

Rosalie snorted. "It's the curse of being one of the oldest in a big family. Built-in parenting experience, whether you want it or not. We all had to do it."

Rachel shuddered. "I couldn't even keep a beta fish alive in college. The thought of parenting someone else's spawn…"

Rebecca nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Jake's barely a year younger than us and we still couldn't handle him."

"I think we'll just have one kid. Maybe two. Or like... a really well-trained dog," I said, thinking of Bear back home. "Bear's already better behaved than most toddlers."

Rosalie gave me a look. "Yeah, one—unless you get twins. Ask me how I know."

Angela grinned. "Or triplets. Tanya, Kate, and Irina were the first and only… but hey, Bella, maybe it skips generations."

"I will literally fake my death," I said flatly. "No thank you."

Alice leaned her head back against the chair. "Jasper and I decided we're not having kids. We'll just spoil all of yours and send them home with candy and noisemakers. Pure chaos, no consequences."

"God help us," Rosalie muttered.

I glanced at her. "Alright, give me your best advice. For real. Not the scary kid stuff."

Rosalie blew out a breath, running a hand through her hair. "Talk to each other. Even when you're mad. Especially when you're mad. It's easy to think 'I'll deal with it later,' but if you don't talk, it stacks up and suddenly someone's crying over the dishwasher."

Alice nodded. "Yep. It's never about the dishwasher."

Rosalie added, "It's always something stupid like socks or the laundry, but it's never really about that."

"Marriage seems to be just one long conversation you can't leave," Rebecca said thoughtfully.

Rachel laughed. "That sounded both romantic and mildly threatening."

I grinned. "Honestly, Edward and I talk constantly. We probably over-communicate."

"Like, the other day," I continued, leaning back in my chair, "he sent me a six-paragraph text—six—breaking down the emotional arc of the dog in that Subaru commercial. And then followed it with, 'Anyway, thinking Thai or tacos tonight?' like those two thoughts belonged in the same message."

Angela snorted. "Wait, was it the one with the golden retriever aging in reverse?"

"Yes!" I cried. "He said it was 'a masterclass in nonlinear storytelling.' I thought he was joking. He wasn't."

Rosalie shook her head, grinning. "God, you're marrying a golden retriever in a cardigan."

"Don't remind me," I muttered fondly. "He once paused sex to tell me he remembered where I left my favorite pen."

Rosalie and Angela groaned, but Rachel gasped. "Wait—did he find it?"

"He did," I admitted, grinning at the memory of his too happy face. "Top drawer, under a pack of gum. It was genuinely impressive."

Rebecca lifted her mimosa. "To over-communication. And finding pens during foreplay."

"Truly," I said, clinking her glass. "A gift."

Alice raised a hand. "Okay, but also make sure you're connecting too. Not just logistics. Not just who's picking up groceries. Schedule the damn date nights. Wear the hot underwear sometimes. Let each other have space when you need it."

"And invest in blackout curtains," Rosalie added dryly. "Game-changer."

I laughed, already making mental notes. Not the curtains—well, maybe the curtains—but the rest of it. The truth was, I wasn't nervous to marry Edward. Not even a little. But it was kind of amazing, sitting here surrounded by people who'd already jumped in headfirst and were still standing, nail polish and all.

Angela leaned over and nudged me. "Don't worry. You and Edward are solid. Gross, but solid."

Alice waved a hand. "Okay, okay, enough. Let's focus on what really matters—what nail color is Bella wearing when she says 'I do'? That's the real marriage prep."

I laughed as the room spiraled into a heated debate about blush tones and glitter finishes, warm and light and loud, and it hit me all at once.

This is what it meant to be surrounded.

I was marrying my best friend. And somehow, I got a whole army of women to walk me into it, nails first.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the beach had full-on transformed into a family-friendly movie night fever dream. A giant screen flickered to life in the sand, casting shadows over rows of blankets and beach chairs while string lights crisscrossed above us like some Pinterest board fantasy. Tiki torches flickered around the edges, trying their best to be helpful, even though they mostly just made everyone smell faintly like s'mores.

And of course, Edward had gotten there first—because he's annoyingly good at things like "planning ahead" and "being thoughtful." He'd staked out a prime spot near the back, spread out a big soft blanket, and laid one of his obnoxiously fluffy hoodies right in the center like a damn offering.

"For you," he said, smug as hell, when I walked up. "Because the second it drops below seventy, you get dramatic, even thought we're in California."

"It is seventy," I muttered, climbing straight into his lap anyway. "And I'm already cold, so thank you for your service."

He grinned and wrapped his arms around me like the human furnace he is, tucking the hoodie over my legs. I nestled in, sighing as I stole a fistful of popcorn from the tub he'd balanced between us, and was quite frankly doing God's work to keep my hands warm.

The entire back half of the beach had been unofficially annexed by our extended circus. We'd turned this resort's chill movie night into a full-blown family reunion. Blankets were overlapping. Towels had been claimed like territories. It looked like a beach-themed version of a Renaissance fair—if Renaissance fairs had toddlers with glow stick swords and brothers with cooler beer stashes.

Alice and Jasper were curled up nearby, legs tangled and feeding each other sour gummies. McKenna, Irina, and Kate were stretched out behind us with a pile of kids using their legs as human pillows. Victor and Riley were swapping movie trivia with Jared and Rachel, and Phil had somehow become the designated popcorn distributor for a row of kids who were treating him like a concession stand.

Rosalie had Leo in her lap—he was clutching a worn-out plush whale and nodding off, only waking up to whisper something unintelligible and point dramatically at the screen. Emmett had Max tucked under one arm like a football, both of them sticky with juice and completely content.

Farther back, Esme and Carlisle sat on their foldable beach chair, glasses of wine in hand, watching the chaos like it brought them life. Renee had made fast friends with Charolette and Siobhan and was already halfway through a second margarita, while Phil tried (and failed) to keep Seth and Mike from launching popcorn into each other's drinks.

A few feet over, Nana had claimed an entire lounge chair for herself, wrapped in a fleece Disney blanket she'd definitely not gotten from the resort, sipping something suspiciously strong from a stainless steel tumbler that said "World's Okayest Grandma". She was wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat over her hoodie and shouting at the screen like it was a football game. Next to her, Carlisle Sr. was already half-asleep in a folding chair he brought from home, with a newspaper folded on his lap and earbuds in.

Charlie was exactly where you'd expect: lawn chair, beer, arms crossed like he'd rather be watching Jaws—but secretly smiling every time someone laughed. Sue had claimed the chair next to him and was feeding him peanut M&Ms like that was totally normal.

And of course, the movie was Moana 3.

Moana, now fully upgraded into a badass demi-goddess with glowing tattoos and weather powers, was fighting lava monsters and belting out new songs that were definitely going to be stuck in everyone's heads until at least Halloween.

Edward leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. "Wait… there's a third one?"

"Oh yeah," I whispered. "She's got a fucking trident now. It's a whole thing."

"You're gonna be singing this for weeks, aren't you?"

"Shh. And yes, so be prepared."

He laughed and plucked some popcorn kernels out of my fist.

"So," I asked, "how was golf? Did Carlisle cry when you finally held a putter the right way?"

"He almost fainted when I parred the fifth hole."

"You didn't."

"Okay, I bogeyed," he admitted, "but Jasper missed completely and fell into a bush, so I win by default."

I gasped dramatically, turning a little to face him more. "Wow," I whispered. "Truly, a Tiger Woods origin story. Tell ESPN."

He smirked, brushing his thumb over my hand. "How was the spa? Did Alice make you try some rare anti-aging fungus serum from the Himalayas?"

"No, but she did say communication and skincare are the two secrets to a happy marriage."

"She's not wrong. Good moisturizer is half the battle."

"Are you about to start a twenty-step routine with me?"

He raised a brow. "Bell. My skin's already flawless."

"God, you're insufferable."

He nipped my ear and grumbled too sexily for a public, family beach outing. "Don't talk dirty to me."

I burst out laughing and dropped my head onto his shoulder, shaking with giggles. "Angela said we're probably next in the family to have triplets, by the way."

Edward froze. "What now?"

"Yep. Triplets. She said it with her whole chest."

"I—no. No, that's cursed energy. We are not built for triplets."

"I can barely keep one houseplant alive."

"I killed a succulent last week. And it was in a self-watering pot."

"We'd lose one in the laundry."

"Or trade them by accident," he added, nodding seriously. "You know, like baseball cards. Just show up at daycare like, 'Oops, wrong one.'"

"I'd put them in little color-coded shirts just to keep track."

"Red, blue, and the one who cries a lot."

"That's me. I'd be the one crying."

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to my temple. "Then we'll skip the triplets and just get a dog."

"I thought about it, but no way. Bear would never forgive us. He already holds a grudge for that one time we dog-sat Poppy and she peed on his bed."

Edward leaned back slightly, grinning. "Bear lives a whole state away, but he does have long-term memory. Like a tiny, fluffy elephant."

"An angry, judgmental elephant who hates when you put peanut butter in his Kong too unevenly."

"He barked at me for ten full minutes, Bella."

"You deserved it."

He nudged me with his knee. "Okay then, what about a cat?"

"I'm not cool enough for a cat. They'd judge me constantly."

"That's why I like them," he said. "They're just little furry versions of you."

I gasped. "You take that back."

He laughed, wrapping his arms tighter around me and pulling me closer until I was basically part of his hoodie. "Nope. You're small. You're spicy. You hiss when I try to move you in the morning."

"I do not hiss."

"You groaned like a demon when I tried to pull the blanket off this morning."

"Because I was asleep! And it was cold!"

He kissed my cheek, smug. "Exactly like a cat."

I rolled my eyes but didn't move from the warmth of his lap. I could feel his heartbeat against my back, slow and steady, and the soft rise and fall of his chest as he laughed. I melted a little more with every second.

"You know," I murmured, voice quieter now, "even if we did have triplets and color-coded shirt systems… I think I'd survive it. With you."

He paused. Just for a beat.

Then he leaned down, pressing his mouth softly to the shell of my ear. "Same."

We sat there for a long, easy moment — the warmth of Edward's arms wrapped around me, his chin tucked against the side of my head. The salty air curled through my hair, and the slow rhythm of the waves matched the way we were breathing — in sync, soft, settled.

It was one of those rare pockets of stillness where everything just felt… good.

And then, like the universe remembered it was on a timer, the children lost their minds.

It began with a single rogue piece of popcorn. I didn't see who threw it. But I saw who retaliated.

Jax stood up from his blanket like he'd just been called to war. "You wanna go, Declan?!"

Declan blinked at him across the sand. "I literally didn't throw anything."

"LIES!" Jax shouted, hurling a fistful of popcorn like grenades.

Popcorn rained from the sky. Screams followed. Then sand.

Theo and Maeve immediately joined in, because of course they did. They crouched behind beach chairs whispering "Go left!" and "Now! NOW!" like tactical agents in tiny swim trunks.

"This is a violation of the popcorn treaty!" Theo yelled.

"There was never a treaty!" Declan screamed back.

"Oh my God," I muttered, ducking instinctively as a handful of sand hit the back of a chair.

Hunter stood off to the side with a juice pouch, watching the chaos with the dead-eyed exhaustion of a teenager who had seen some shit.

"Can you guys chill for, like, five seconds?" he snapped, already sounding like a middle-aged man on his third cup of black coffee and a nicotine patch.

"Nope!" Jax declared, before full-body launching into the sand.

Edward's chest shook with laughter against my back. "Are they okay?"

"No," I said. "And that's just… kind of the theme now."

Meanwhile, Max and Leo—whose bedtime had come and gone—were in that overtired danger zone. They weren't quite melting down, but they also weren't functioning on Earth's normal plane of reality.

"Snacks?" Max asked Rosalie, eyes wide and cheeks already sticky with marshmallow. "Snacks again, Mommy?"

"You just had three, Max," Rosalie said gently, crouching beside them. "You're all done, baby."

"Noooooo." Max flopped dramatically into the sand, still holding his glow stick like a fallen warrior. "Snacks is not done. Snacks never done."

Leo, meanwhile, was mid-spin, arms out like a very small, juice-stained tornado. "I go zoom," he announced to no one. "I zoom good!"

"You sure do, buddy," Emmett said, lounging nearby like a human jungle gym waiting to happen.

Rosalie gave him a look. "Can you help me, or are you just going to narrate the downfall of bedtime?"

Emmett raised both hands, slowly standing. "Fine. Fine. I'll wrangle the zoom."

He moved in slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, and managed to scoop up Leo mid-spin. "Gotcha, little man."

Leo giggled, wrapping his arms around Emmett's neck. "I go fast. You slow."

"Thank you for the feedback."

Max was still on the ground, muttering to himself in an emotional spiral. "Snacks sad. Blanket cold. Toes yucky."

Rosalie knelt beside him, brushing hair from his face. "I know, baby. It's been a long day."

"Blankie hug," Max whispered, already climbing into her lap.

She wrapped him up in his dino blanket burrito-style and tucked him in, rocking gently. His eyes fluttered, and I swear I saw her melt a little.

Rosalie looked up at me with that tired, gooey mom face. "This is the part where I remember I like them."

Edward chuckled. "They are pretty cute when they're not plotting their own jailbreak."

Then he grinned against my cheek. "Our future."

I tilted my head back, deadpan. "We are not having triplets. And we're not having twins."

"You don't get to choose that."

"I will manifest it. I will bribe the universe. I'll eat an entire pineapple upside down if that's what it takes. And we've officially crossed the threshold for acceptable baby talk. No more."

Esme stood up, dusted the popcorn off her lap, and clapped her hands once. "Popcorn war is officially over. If you want dessert at all for the rest of this trip, I suggest you stop treating snacks like ammunition."

The kids paused mid-squabble, their expressions shifting as they processed the severity of her words.

"Okay," Declan said quickly, dropping his stash. "Ceasefire."

Esme nodded. "Smart boy."

Just as calm began to settle, Eli appeared out of the darkness with a glow stick sword.

"Hi, Bella," he said, breathless and barefoot. "I escaped."

I blinked and shared a look with Edward. "Awesome. I love that for you, dude. Your parents know you... escaped?"

"Don't worry," Eli added, holding up one hand like he was swearing an oath. "I didn't wander. I quested."

From behind us, a tired voice called out, "Eli!"

Laurent appeared a few seconds later, looking winded and deeply betrayed. "Kid. What did we talk about?"

Eli winced a little, then whispered, "I was only gone for like… five songs."

"That's not how we measure time, buddy."

"But it feels right."

Laurent reached us and placed a hand on top of his son's curls like it was the only thing tethering him to Earth. "I turned around for two seconds and you were gone."

"I was following the moon," Eli explained, completely unbothered. "Also, I found treasure."

He opened his hand to reveal a mystery object: a half-melted pink Starburst, two sand dollars, and what might've once been a stick of gum.

Laurent sighed deeply. "You are banned from treasure hunting."

"You can't ban treasure," Eli said gravely. "That's unconstitutional."

That's when Theo popped up behind him, barefoot and grinning with the same chaotic energy, holding a plastic bucket full of wet seaweed and what looked like half a crab claw. "It's fine. I was supervising."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "You're seven."

Theo nodded. "Exactly. I'm older. I'm basically in charge of his life now."

Eli nodded in agreement. "He's my lawyer."

"I—what?" Laurent looked at me like I might have answers. I did not.

"Theo, you were supposed to be watching the movie," came McKenna's voice from behind a cooler.

"I was. But then Eli said the tide looked suspicious, and someone had to investigate."

"It did," Eli whispered. "It was moving weird."

Edward coughed to cover his laugh. "Suspicious tide. Got it."

Theo leaned forward, all business. "Also, there was a crab. We made eye contact. He challenged me to a duel."

Eli nodded again, deadly serious. "He did. It was real. He had one claw up like this." He mimed it, his little glow stick sword bouncing with every gesture.

I gently pushed his hand closed. "That's enough treasure for tonight, Indiana Jones."

"I'm gonna open a museum."

"Oh yeah? We'll be there opening day."

Laurent finally scooped him up like a sack of potatoes and started walking back toward their blanket. "Next time you wander off, I'm putting a bell on you."

"I'd like a glow stick collar, actually," Eli called over his shoulder. "It's more fashionable!"

"I am not putting rave accessories on you."

"You'd look so cool though," Theo added helpfully. "Very 'dad who parties.'"

"Oh my God," Laurent muttered, trudging back toward the family blanket, his child giggling upside down in his arms.

"See you later, lawyer!" Theo shouted after him.

"Text me!" Eli shouted back.

Theo turned to us, plopped down next to our blanket like he lived there, and casually dumped his bucket full of soggy "evidence" onto the sand. "This one's named Kevin. Don't step on him."

Edward stared at the crab claw. "Kevin's… dead."

"No," Theo corrected. "Kevin is retired."

I could not deal. I handed him some popcorn as tribute.

Theo reached into his popcorn with one hand and casually poked the crab claw with the other.

"Kevin's fine," he said confidently, even though Kevin was objectively one sad crustacean limb. "He's just on vacation. He fought in a lot of sea wars."

Edward blinked. "Sea wars?"

Theo nodded solemnly, crunching popcorn like it was battle rations. "He lost some guys. That's why he's just a claw now."

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. "Was Kevin… a general?"

"No," Theo said, clearly offended. "He was a spy. You can tell by his face."

Edward stared at the claw. "He doesn't have a face."

Theo narrowed his eyes at Edward. "Well, not now. He's in disguise."

I handed him a juice box to keep him going. He stabbed the straw in like a tiny war-hardened soldier and took a dramatic sip.

"He had to fake his own death," Theo added, now fully spiraling into lore. "Because the enemy crab king put a price on his shell."

"Damn," I whispered. "High stakes."

"Yup. But Kevin's strong. He used to be part octopus, you know."

Edward raised a brow. "How does that work?"

Theo shrugged like it was above our clearance level. "Genetics."

We watched as he gently scooped up the claw and set it upright in the sand like it was being honored. "He's gonna live in a little sand house. With windows and a skylight." Theo looked up at us, dead serious. "Do you have, like, a tiny couch? Or a sea sponge? He likes soft things."

I blinked. "I… no?"

Theo sighed. "It's okay. I'll make him a hammock."

He scooted closer, plopping dramatically onto my corner of the blanket, popcorn spilling down his shirt. "I was very busy today," he informed us, as if we hadn't watched him declare war on snacks an hour ago.

"Clearly," Edward said. "How's the rest of the treasure hunt going?"

Theo brightened. "I found a Lego. In the sand. In the wild. That's rare."

"A rare wild Lego," I repeated, nodding.

He grinned, revealing a noticeable gap in his bottom row of teeth. "It's a relic. I think it's from the Olden Times. Like, the 2000s or 90s"

I tried so hard not to laugh. "The '90s?"

"Yeah," Theo said confidently. "Back when people didn't have cell phones and you had to talk with your face."

Edward burst out laughing. "Where did you learn that?"

Theo shrugged. "Uncle Liam. He said when he was a kid they didn't have texting, just feelings and pencils." He paused, and let out a wide yawn.

"Well, you've had a big day," I said, ruffling his hair.

Theo nodded and reclined dramatically against my knee. "I'm very brave. I almost stepped on seaweed, but I didn't cry."

"Heroic," Edward said.

"I'm gonna tell my teacher I survived the wild," he added through another yawn. "And maybe also that I discovered Kevin. So I can get a sticker."

He closed his eyes like he was preparing for a nap right then and there.

"You're not falling asleep here, are you?"

"No," Theo said immediately, even though his voice was already getting sleepy and low. "I'm just resting my eyes. Kevin gets scared if I leave too fast."

Edward leaned in and whispered, "Ten bucks says he's out in sixty seconds."

Theo cracked one eye open. "I can hear you."

I handed him another handful of popcorn. "Then eat your bribe, Sir Retired-Claw's Emotional Support Human."

Theo shrugged and curled up with his bucket like it was a pillow, crab claw sticking out the top like a little flag of nonsense. "Wake me if Kevin moves."

"He won't," I whispered to Edward.

"He absolutely won't," Edward whispered back.

But we both reached down and tucked the blanket up around Theo anyway.

Because sometimes, the bravest little warriors with missing teeth and glow sticks deserve a soft place to land.

And maybe a medal. Or at least a juice box.

We were quiet for a beat.

And I melted back into Edward's arms like he was the safest place on the planet.

He tugged the hood of the sweatshirt over my head and kissed the side of my temple, careful of the slumbering stowaway.

"You good?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah." I smiled, reaching for his hand. "Really good."

He squeezed back, eyes still on the screen but his voice full of a different kind of softness. "This my be my favorite part of the week... well, so far."

I turned, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Even more than watching me nearly die topless in the ocean?"

"That's a very close second."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop smiling, before saying quietly, "You're my favorite."

"Yeah?" he whispered back. "Favorite what?"

"Everything."

He kissed the side of my mouth. "You're mine, too. Even when you hiss."

"Shut up. I didn't hiss."

"You hissed."

I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning too hard to argue. And then I curled back into him while the movie played, the ocean hummed, and our family unraveled all around us like the beautiful mess it was.

Perfect chaos. My favorite kind.

Also, I kind of giggled at a point in this chapter, but I can't say why... lol. Until next time!