I hope you are all staying safe and well in these difficult times. If nothing else I hope I can give you just a little bit of escape and enjoyment in the form of the wonderful world of reading. Who knew I could provide updates so quickly! I wasn't intending to post this so soon after the last chapter but I figured I more than owe it to you all, and I think we could all use some escape right about now. Plus, I might end up losing my nerve if I don't post this now, because, yep, we are finally here. This is it. The final chapter of MT. I can't believe it. I'll spare you my hysterics until the end. See you at the bottom (I'll be the one sobbing in the corner).

Chapter 41

BPOV

The next day Edward took me snorkeling.

Snorkeling.

I knew what he was trying to do.

Trying to take my mind away from what had happened before we tried again.

It worked and it didn't. The happiness I wanted to feel was just out of reach, teasing the edges of my heart with Edward's sweetness, his laugher. I knew it would continue to tease. Until I could make love to him for the first time.

Edward knew too.

Because already, later that same day, we tried again.

It was still afternoon when the sky turned black and stormy and the wind picked up speed.

We retreated back to the house. Watched from inside as dark clouds further blackened the sky and the wind rattled the windows.

Edward lit candles.

Lots of them.

In the bedroom.

I was wearing a tank top and white shorts. Edward was wearing a white sleeveless shirt and swim shorts.

He kissed me slowly, deliberately, and I knew we were trying again.

My heart took on the wings of a butterfly, and my stomach flooded with anticipation.

I was swamped, lost, before we even got started.

Edward stopped and looked at me. A gust of wind shook the windows, and I wanted to cry again. "You're trying too hard," he said then.

It was not at all what I expected. "W—what?" I stuttered.

"You're trying too hard to make it perfect. It doesn't have to be, you know."

I stared at him dubiously.

He smiled. "It's okay to be a little scared. It's only natural, especially after what happened to you. Neither of us have done this before. It's not going to be perfect the first time, but it doesn't need to be. We'll have the rest of eternity to make it perfect."

There was something spreading through me. Not a calmness. Not even close. A little less lost, maybe. I would take it.

Edward kissed my forehead. "There now," he said, "that's better." He pulled back again to look at me, and he seemed to be contemplating something. "Do you think..." he began, "do you think it would make it easier for you if you set the pace?"

I didn't understand at first. I'd been the one throwing myself at him last night, after all. It took me a moment to recognize that even then he'd still been leading, taking my cues and going from there. I realized it when he now spread himself out on the bed on his back and did nothing. Just looked at me. Waiting.

I did try. I hesitantly leaned forward to kiss him, and he kissed me back but nothing more; he was waiting for me to take it further. It didn't take me long to realize I didn't like it this way. I felt awkward and shy and self-conscious and had no idea what I was doing. I wanted him to lead. It made me feel...taken care of. Protected. Safe.

I stopped. Pulled back. Looked at him.

He raised his brow. "Not working for you?" he guessed.

I bit my lip, blushing, and shook my head.

"Want me to take over?" he checked.

"Yes, please," I muttered, still flushed and a bit flustered, too.

Edward grinned, and in the next second he was flipping me over onto my back. He nuzzled my neck. "Thank God for that," he murmured.

I laughed shakily, pleased. "Not—working—for you—either?" I asked him between the kisses he was raining down on my throat, my jaw.

"Definitely not," he answered just before his lips moved up to cover my own.

We kissed for a long time. Just kissed.

Then Edward rolled us onto our sides and held me to him. My heart felt loud as it beat between us. His hand moved up my back and down again in that calming way. The fear was there. So was everything else. It was enough.

My hands pushed his shirt up, and he pulled back and discarded it. I lifted my tank top awkwardly, and he helped me pull it over my head. I had a white lace bra on underneath. I removed that too with fumbling fingers. The skin around my neck and down my chest was patchy red with my shyness, an unfortunate drawback of skin as pale as mine. Everywhere his eyes touched only flowered redder. He pressed me back against the pillows. My heart was beating faster. I was sweating. Then Edward's lips were at my ear. "I've got you, sweetheart," he whispered, "I've got you." There were tears in my eyes. My heart felt too big for my chest. It was okay to be scared. Edward would take care of me. I just had to let him.

He took my lips in his. His chest grazed my breasts and I gasped into his mouth. My hands went around him and I pushed myself upward into him. Edward groaned at the contact, and he tore his lips from mine. Then his mouth was on the reddened skin high on my chest, and a small sound escaped me. He followed a path downward very slowly—too slowly, and I forgot for a moment to be scared. There was too much to feel. Then his hands were sliding over my bare legs and up to the waistband of my shorts as he kissed me, and I remembered to be scared again. He lifted his head to look at me. "Doing okay?" he asked.

I nodded through my heavy breaths. I could still feel. I still wanted. He would take care of me.

I reached down to the button on my shorts. Edward caught my hand. Kissed my shaky fingers. "Allow me," he said. He carefully worked the button through the hole, then drew down the zip. I lifted my hips and he slid the shorts down my legs and over my feet before dropping them on the floor. My panties and his shorts were all that remained.

He moved over me again, and then I was fighting back panic. He dropped to his elbows and framed my face. "It's all right. We'll wait it out, okay? That's it. You're all right." He held my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks, and the panic did retreat back to more manageable levels. I gripped his arms. "Better?" he checked. I nodded. Breathed in. Breathed out. He drew back a bit, and then my eyes were moving over him. His naked torso. God, he was so perfect. Desire erupted in my center and pooled lower. My eyes fell to his shorts—swim shorts, which meant he likely didn't have anything on underneath. My face felt hot, but I wanted to see him. I'd been in such a state last time that I'd missed all the details, and that was not at all acceptable. My stomach flipped upside down, and I felt marginally giddy, because Edward's hands had gone to his waistband. He'd followed my line of sight. His eyes burned into mine and stayed there as he sat up and discarded the shorts.

He had nothing on underneath.

My face was burning now because I couldn't stop staring. Had to remind myself to breathe.

He was the picture of masculine perfection.

Flawless.

And big.

And ready.

He may have been practicing the utmost patience with me, but he clearly didn't need to.

My inexperience and self-consciousness tumbled around in my stomach. Should I touch him? Pleasure him that way?

He leaned over me, and one of my hands gripped his bicep, while the other started to move downward. He caught it in his before it reached its destination. "Not now," he muttered, pressing his lips against mine gently. The length of him brushed against my leg, and I jerked at the contact. "Easy," he said softly. "We're not there yet." He smoothed back my hair. "You'll know when we are, I promise." He kissed my lips again. "Try to relax, love." He threaded his fingers through mine and kissed the back of my hand. "Let me get you there first."

I may have actually been crying then. His lips started trailing downward from my throat, moving between my breasts, his hands sliding up my skin slowly, and it felt like there were so many things happening inside me all at once. His thumb reached the underside of my breast, and my hands were suddenly gripping his wrists as if to stop him, because there was just so much, and I didn't know what to do with it. Edward lifted his head to look at me, then he was pressing a kiss beneath my ear. "Trust me," he murmured. His nose ghosted along my jaw. "Let me love you." My hands slipped from his wrists. My throat was filled with so much love for him I couldn't speak. He captured my mouth in his. Then his thumb was brushing over the tip of my breast and I was gasping at the shock of sensation that cascaded downward. He pulled back a bit, his eyes holding mine as his hand slid down over my stomach, and when it settled over the v between my thighs, just gently touching, a furious heat rushed between my legs so quickly I was pushing up against his hand before I even realized it. "That's it," he breathed softly. "Just let go." Slowly, he lifted his hand, then settled both of them on my hips, hooking his fingers over the edge of my panties. He stopped for a moment, his eyes moving up to check my face again. I tucked my chin in a nod of assent, and he carefully removed the last remaining barrier between us.

The fear started mounting again. I gripped his shoulder. A tremor ran through me.

He stroked my cheek. "Not yet, sweetheart. I promise you'll be ready first."

A tear slipped onto my cheek. He brushed it away with his lips.

All the while I didn't stop feeling. Didn't stop wanting. Not for an instant.

He kissed my shoulder. I clutched at his.

He began placing open-mouthed kisses along my neck, over my collarbone, and even just the barest touch of his lips, his fingers, was making me dizzy with want. His big hand cupped the small swell of my breast, and I was arching up into him with a whimper.

"You're so adorably perfect," Edward groaned, and his eyes were on my small breasts, his words filling me with both warmth and heat. He liked them this way. "Do you have any idea how much I want you, just looking at you?"

His words sent a shocking rush of pressure down low, and he immediately moved up to take my lips in a heated kiss. Then he pulled back a bit, and his hand slipped down to rest between my thighs, this time with nothing as barrier. I stiffened a bit. "It's all right," he said softly, waiting. When the tenseness in me loosened, he prodded gently with his fingers. Then his index finger was applying just a tiny bit of pressure in exactly the right spot. I was gasping. I could feel a pooling between my legs as I lifted my hips to press harder against his hand, needing so much. "There you go. Good girl," he breathed, his fingers prodding carefully again, and I realized he was monitoring my readiness. I was blushing then, but he didn't allow time for my shyness. He began kissing me again, but with more urgency. Starting with my lips then moving downward from there. When his mouth closed over one breast and then the other, I was moaning quietly, my hands gripping his hair. His finger found that magic spot again, rubbing gently, igniting another flood of sensation so powerful that I knew then I was ready. Could feel the slickness beneath his fingers. The pulsing need. My hand flew to grab his wrist, stopping him. He drew back to look at me, questioning. I gulped and nodded. He understood. His forehead dropped against mine, his breath short and heavy, and both his hands stroked my hair, my face, his body hovering just above mine, not quite touching.

I was holding onto him as if I would fall to pieces if I didn't. "Pl—ease," I stuttered.

He groaned and buried his face against my neck. I could feel my heart hammering beneath his cheek. He didn't move for several beats.

The storm outside had picked up. Drops pelted against the roof. Sheets of rain were slapping against the window.

"Edward?" I whispered unsteadily.

"Give me a minute," he rasped. It was strained. He was struggling for control.

My grip on him tightened. "I love you," I choked softly. I trust you.

He lifted his head to look at me, then pressed his lips to mine gently and held them there.

It wasn't at all perfect. I was shaking. I was scared. I loved him. I wanted him. I wanted him so, so much.

He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes never leaving mine as he shifted to position himself. He brushed against my entrance and I tensed, my fingers digging into his arm. He kissed me again, his fingers stroking my cheek, waiting for it to ease. He was shaking. I noticed it then as he held himself against me, just touching, and the Herculean effort that must have taken him, to go that slowly for my benefit, because he knew I was scared, had tears springing to my eyes.

He kissed beneath my eyes, then he looked into them, watching carefully, as he pressed himself more deliberately against me. I felt the tip of him begin to stretch my opening, and I drew in a sharp gasp of breath. He pulled back instantly. I tugged at his arm. N—no, it's—o—kay," I gasped out, more tears pressing against the back of my eyes, the ache of need between my legs only intensifying despite myself.

He drew in a shaky breath. Slowly, he pressed himself against me again, his eyes never letting go of mine. I felt him begin to slide into me, into the wetness there, and I clutched at his arms. It didn't hurt, but I was tensing a bit, and he was thick; I could feel the stretch. He stroked back my hair, and my eyes starting to fill again, because there was an aching fullness that was beginning, the feel of him pressing into it making me want to sob. He dropped to his elbows over me, his forehead touching mine again, and my arms flew around his shoulders, holding fast, my fingers digging into him. He lifted his head again to look into my eyes, to hold them, as he eased himself further into me very, very slowly and carefully. The Herculean effort. The tremors moving through him. My heart caught. My breath caught. There was an initial stiffness to me. He went still. Waiting. Allowing me time to adjust to the size of him. To relax. Then his fingers stroked my temple, and I was crying again. My legs went around his waist, the last of my tension easing away, and Edward hissed out a breath as I took him in even more fully. His hands slipped beneath me and he was lifting me up into his arms, pressing me to him.

The impossibility of it. The absolute awe of him inside me—all the way—had a shuttering sob pulling out of me, and Edward's arms squeezed me even more tightly against his chest. The feel of him, the fullness of it, filled me with such intensity, I couldn't speak, couldn't move. The storm was still raging outside, thunder rumbling, but lightening could have crashed down on me and I wouldn't have noticed. Edward felt it too. His face was pressed to my hair, his fingers stroking clumsily at the strands.

We stayed clutched to each other, until I could take it no more. I needed. So much. I shifted experimentally, and Edward let out a groan that sent another heated rush to my center. I moved again, and this time the stroke of him inside me had me whimpering at the delicious pressure. Edward groaned even more loudly, and he was taking over then. His hands went to my hips and he lifted me up and brought me back down onto him—slowly but not as slow as before. Heated pleasure erupted, spreading outward. I gasped, my fingers digging into his skin.

He carefully laid me back down on the bed, still inside me, my legs locked around him, and took my lips in his, kissing me with an intensity that had my heart stopping and restarting. His hands slid down to my breasts, weighing the small mounds, and when his thumbs stroked over the tips, my hips jolted upward automatically, smashing against him and taking him deep inside me again. Edward's breath hissed out against my lips. Then he was cursing, his hands moving to still any movement of my hips. His face fell into the pillow just above my shoulder, and he went still. He was fighting control.

"I—'m—so—rry," I pushed out.

Edward released a sound that sounded half way between a groan and a guffaw of laughter. Then he released me and pushed himself up a bit with his hands. He was still inside me, and I could feel a slight shuddering of his body.

I realized he was already very, very close.

Closer than me.

I was more than all right with that.

He wasn't.

He began kissing every part of me he could reach with my legs still wrapped around him. Until it felt like every nerve ending was on fire, hot and heavy and alive like never before. Then he was gently rocking himself back and forth inside me, and I was clutching at his back, moaning softly at the intensity of what was building. I heard the sound of my name leaving his lips, and the continuous ramping of immense pleasure, of mindless need taking over soon had me gasping uncontrollably. I clutched him hard. Needing. Loving. So much. Him. Only him. All of him. The fullness. Him inside me. Filling me. Loving me. He lifted me up again, and the feel of his arms, strong and thick and gentle around me pressed into my heart. His hand slipped between us and his finger found that magic place again, rubbing carefully, bringing me to the very edge with him. It didn't take long then. I heard my name shudder out from his chest. Heard myself call out his. Felt myself close tightly around him. Felt him jerk inside me in response. Then we were erupting together, mind, body, and soul. Souls. His and mine. Twinned together. Lion and Lamb. Impossible becoming possible. We fell back against the pillows and he dropped his hands at the last second, fisting them on the mattress, the force of it too much for him to safely contain. It didn't matter. I held onto him with enough force for the both of us. I held him and didn't let go. The explosion claimed us both with earth-shattering and mind-numbing intensity. There was nothing left in the universe but us. Together.

The wind thrashed against the windows.

Lightening flashed.

Neither of us moved. Couldn't.

His face was against my shoulder, fists still against the mattress. Somehow, he still managed to keep his full weight from crushing me.

More lightening flashed.

Finally, Edward lifted his head and eased himself out of me very carefully. Then he was gathering me into his arms and rolling us onto our sides. He kissed my forehead. Smoothed back my hair. Peered into my eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

Rain slashed against the window.

I nodded, unable to speak in my blissful bubble of happiness. The understatement of the century.

Thunder rumbled.

Then, quieter, "I didn't hurt you at all?"

I shook my head fiercely, irritated now that he was eroding into my bubble.

"You're sure?"

I nodded.

"I—"

"Edward Cullen, if you ask me one more time I'm going to hit you."

And there it was. His smile. It spread slowly across his face, seeping into every corner of my heart until I was crying again.

He smashed my face into his shoulder. "You're not supposed to be crying," he muttered.

"S—sorry."

He laughed quietly.

I wanted to stay in the moment forever.

He squeezed me closer, understanding, knowing, feeling it too. There was a blissful shakiness, as if we had yet to come back to reality, the sounds of the storm outside distant, insignificant, compared to our own torrential new reality forming, and the absolute happiness that came with it. It was almost too much to contain all at once. A shuddering breath escaped me as I gradually let it all seep in, into my bones, into my heart, into my soul. I loved this man more than I ever thought possible. He'd rolled onto his back, drawing me with him so that I was half lying on top of him, my hair spilling out over his chest. I pressed my lips to his chest, his shoulder, his neck. Then I was staring down at his beautiful face, into his eyes, at the love I saw there. My hair was down on either side of his face like a curtain and he reached up to sweep it over my shoulder, his fingers lingering, stroking the skin of my neck, my shoulder, making me want to weep at the touch. His touch. I kissed his lips, then turned my cheek against his, the heat of my skin warming his. His breath still sounded a bit shaky and my heart moved in my chest when I heard it. He tugged me closer against him again, closing the space I'd created so that my naked breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest, and I felt an inexplicable shyness begin to return. I drew back a bit to look at him again. To look at all of him. He lay on top of the sheet, concealing none of his perfection from my eyes. None at all. He was...he was—

"Best not to look at me like that, love." His voice came in a low rasp.

I blushed, lowering my face as I discreetly pulled the sheet up around me before settled back against him with my chin on his chest. "You're so..." I swallowed.

"Careful now," he said, "You don't want to injure my virility again, do you?"

A bubble of a laugh worked up my throat and buried my face against him. But my fingers couldn't stop marvelling; they were stroking at the smooth, hard bulge of his pectoral muscle. God, he was so perfect.

And mine.

He was mine.

The thought momentarily robbed me of breath.

His hand closed over my own and he lifted it to his lips to kiss my fingers.

I was overtaken with emotion again. Many of them. When he released my hand I began to draw circles on the skin of his chest, my eyes following the movement instead of looking at him. I cleared my throat. My voice wavered. "So, um, on a scale from one to ten..." I began. Didn't get to finish.

He dragged me upward, then framed my face between his hands. "Bella," he breathed. "Need you even ask?" His eyes were intense. I couldn't think. Couldn't speak. He rolled me over onto my back, his hands still holding my face as he hovered over me, his face very close to my own, making my thoughts spin again. "Do you have any idea how much I love you? Any idea what you do to me? That was...I don't have the words to describe it. In all my years I never could have imagined...never would have thought..." There was so much happening on his face now as he struggled to speak. "...that this was something I could have."

My heart cracked open at his words, at the thought of him alone for so long, thinking no one could love him.

My fingers stroked at his neck and I could feel the tears forming again. Tears of happiness and sadness both. That we'd overcome the impossible. That we could have this with each other.

He touched his forehead to mine. "Thank you for letting me love you."

I hugged his neck hard, remembering—both good and bad. The contrast was overwhelming. I gulped. "Thank you for...for...going slow...when...when I..." My voice broke, and I blinked, loving him so much I thought my heart might crack for a second time.

He kissed me softly before I could finish.

Then he was looking at me carefully, his eyes moving over me once before landing on my face. "Tell me the truth now," he said, voice soft. "You don't feel any soreness? Any at all?"

Tears pricked my eyes again, and I shook my head.

He leaned in closer and stroked my cheek. "Just take a moment to be sure, please."

I shifted under his penetrating look, but I did as he asked, taking a moment to pay attention. Then my cheeks grew warm under his careful regard. He frowned. I quickly pressed my thumb into his brow, smoothing it. "You didn't hurt me, Edward. I, um, can feel it a little that we, um, well, you know"—my cheeks bloomed redder at this—"but it doesn't hurt. It's not sore."

He was still looking at me closely, considering my words. "You're certain?"

I nodded. Almost rolled my eyes, almost told him I would slap him if he asked me one more time. Instead my eyes filled quickly with tears then. Because this was, after all, what had made me so scared the first time. Less so the second, but it had still been there. It had hurt for weeks. After Jacob had raped me. Weeks. With Edward nothing. No pain at all.

His thumbs wiped at my cheeks, and he kissed me gently. He understood.

The storm clouds were finally receding outside, a glow of light now beginning to diffuse out from behind them.

We lay wrapped in each other's arms.

The candles had burnt down nearly to the wick.

I still didn't move.

"I should put those out," Edward said finally.

I reluctantly pushed myself upward, realizing I should probably take a few human minutes in the bathroom. I caught the sheet that slipped from around me, feeling suddenly shy again with my nakedness, wondering how I was going to climb from the bed and parade to the bathroom completely naked, even though I knew I was being stupid.

Edward raised his brow when I struggled from the bed, tugging the sheet with me, blushing. "Nothing I haven't already seen, love," he pointed out.

My face got redder.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, his own nakedness on display, perfect and unnerving. One might think that after what we'd just done, his effect on me might not be as drastic, but nope, it was the same. Maybe worse, because, you know, his nakedness. He took a step toward me. Yep, definitely worse. My heart was already picking up speed. I clutched the sheet to my chest.

He waved a hand at himself. "Will you not offer me the same privilege to enjoy you?"

I shook my head and muttered, "It's easier for you. You're...so..." I flapped my hand at him, trying and failing to find an appropriate adjective. I gave up. "And I'm just..."

"Careful now," Edward said, stepping completely into my space now. "That's my wife you're talking about, and she's not just anything. In fact, I happen to know she's very, very beautiful."

My face got hotter, but I didn't let go of the sheet, even when his words had warmth flooding through me.

He sighed. "All right, but we're going to work on this, hm?"

"Okay," I squeezed out. I didn't let go of the sheet. I snatched up a shirt from Edward's open suitcase on my way to the bathroom.

Then I was laughing quietly at myself, giddy with happiness.

When I stepped back into the bedroom in Edward's shirt, he was no longer in the room. My eyes stopped on the window to find him standing outside on the beach in his swim shorts, waiting for me.

I half-ran in my haste to join him, stumbling once on the steps outside, then I was standing beside him, the sand damp beneath my bare feet. He smiled at me, a brilliant, dazzling smile—the kind that filled him up completely and absolutely. The kind that burst my heart so wide open with a happiness that nothing else could touch.

Together, we took in the sight before us.

The storm had past, but it had overwritten sunset, the clouds disappearing just after the sun had slipped below the horizon. Now, there was a pink and yellowish glow to the sky just above the ocean. The air was calm and quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the water against the sand.

It was twilight.

The point at which light and darkness met. The transition point.

It was fitting.

I'd been waiting for that transition point, for that singular moment, ever since the night I'd been raped. The moment when everything would be right again. The moment I would be fixed. The moment all the horror would be gone. The moment I could be Before Bella again.

The moment that didn't exist.

I no longer needed it to.

Edward took my hand in his and squeezed it, and my heart felt achingly, blissfully full.

Looking close enough at the fading glow of the sky, I could almost see her—Before Bella, waving goodbye, smiling.

I waved back.

After Bella was better.

After Bella and all her broken parts.

Perfectly imperfect.

After Bella had this.

Edward wrapped his arms around me from behind.

I was home again.

—End—

Author's note: I can't even begin to express how I'm feeling right now. This story has been a part of me for so long now that saying goodbye to it is one of the hardest things I've done. But it feels right. This is where their story on paper ends - I feel it in my bones. Yes, on paper. Because I hope it will live on in its readers. Admittedly there were times when I lost my way and wondered if I would be able to finish, but here we are. I feel a lot of pride that I did it, but, yes, I'm also a complete wreck, make no mistake! I'm going to miss writing it, and most of all I'm going to miss all of you so very much.

Coming back after my long 6 year hiatus was hard, but I'm so glad I did. Believe me, no one was more bothered by the fact that I'd left it sitting unfinished than I was. I have to confess here that I'm not all that happy with my earlier chapters, and it was something I struggled with a lot. It made it hard to keep going. Obviously, I'm a lot older and wiser now than I was back then. I was only 22 when I started writing the story 10 years ago (and yes you now know how old I am..), and it was also the first story I'd ever written. My writing skills weren't up for it, I don't think. (Of course, my writing skills got to where they are because I started writing it, but such is the way of it...). I think in part it was why I stopped writing for a while. Despite the long hiatus being cruel (unintentionally so!) to my readers, I was much better able to write the story how I wanted it when I came back. As for the earlier chapters...re-writing them was just not something I could bring myself to do, but I did go back very recently (after I finished writing the last chapters) to do some clean-up. They are better than they were (I think), but without a complete re-write (which I won't do..) they are what they are to an extent. Still, if any of you do re-read hopefully it will be that much more pleasant an experience than it would have been, and I'd be interested to know how it reads as a whole. It is so difficult for me to judge it myself, having agonized over those earlier chapters far too much already. Hopefully my earlier chapters are still readable to get through and not as cringe-worthy as I sometimes fear.

For those of you that have stuck with me for so long, coming back after I abandoned you and putting your faith in me that I would finish this time, I can't tell you how in awe I am that you stuck it out, how much it meant to me. I hope you found it was worth it in the end.

To all of my readers, I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am that you came along for this journey with me. Special thanks to those of you who left me kind words of encouragement, laughed with me, cried with me in reviews. Extra special thanks to those of you who have consistently stuck with me for so long, always leaving me lots of love. You know who you are. I know I don't know any of you personally but in a way it feels like I do. I can tell you that I remember everyone who's left me a review, truly. If you left me a review once, I recognize you when I see you again, because it means that much to me. You all kept me going, and I'm so immensely grateful for that because you gave me the gift of discovering a love for writing I never knew I had. That was the best gift of all.

[Gross sobbing]. This is the hardest part. Saying goodbye to all of you. I'm so going to miss seeing your names pop up in my inbox. That said, I hope this isn't really goodbye because now that MT is finished I do feel I will write more Twilight. I love this fandom, and I love these characters so very much. I don't intend to give them up! I have random ideas floating around but am not yet sure what will stick. When MT was unfinished I couldn't bring myself to think of writing something else until it was finished. Now that it is I'm itching to see what happens! When (yes when! - I feel it will be inevitable, given how much I love these characters) I write something new I so hope to see some of you again (don't forget to follow me if you are so inclined). Until then, feel free to contact me to chat, for anything at all. I have a Twilight blog on tumblr, so please do drop by my 'ask me anything' inbox and ask me anything at all. If you are curious about me and want to ask a personal question, or want to talk/rant about the twilight books (at your own risk because it can be hard to stop me once I get going!), I'd be more than happy to chat with you. Here is the link to my ask box, hiddentwilightmemory,tumblr,com(slash)ask

Reviews aren't necessary, but they do make me very happy. It would mean a lot to know you got something out of this story. I hope you felt I did it justice in the end.

Without further ado I bid you all a heartfelt goodbye — for now! It's been an incredible journey and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Please stay safe in these difficult times. Sending you the warmest wishes with lots of love.

~Lisa

[goes back to sob in the corner]

APRIL 3, 2020: MT has been nominated for the top 10 fav fics completed in March at twifanfictionrecs! If you feel MT deserving, I would love it if you voted! Voting ends April 26, 2020. Go to www, twifanfictionrecs,com.

May 1, 2020: MT came in at #5 on the top ten stories completed in March as voted by visitors of www, twifanfictionrecs,com. Thank you!