A/N: Finally, I am hitting complete on this story, and I am so grateful your patience to stick with me for the years it has taken me to do so. Hope you all enjoy the small glimpse into their future, and now I'm off to attempt to finish The Pact as well. Take care!

Epilogue

Edward

As with every other journey Bella and I have taken together, the road over the last year has not been a simple one.

Bella becoming pregnant was the easy part. Two weeks after I had that meeting with my father, she made an appointment with her gynecologist to be checked out before coming off the shot and actively trying for a baby. The doctor gave her a clean bill of health, seeing absolutely no reason why we wouldn't be able to conceive within six months time.

As we sat there talking that night, irrational fear began gripping me and not in the form that either of us expected. I hadn't changed my mind about to have a baby with her, nor had I suddenly become more terrified of being a father.

Bella was fine, but what if I wasn't? What if after all that time she'd been waiting, there was something wrong with me, and I couldn't give her a baby? Though I hadn't paid it much mind at the time, I had watched one of the women in our office go through the struggles of infertility. I'd unwillingly overheard her talking to one of the other employees when she found out that it was because her husband had a low sperm count or something, even though there was nothing wrong with her. I got an image of my mind of that being Bella, telling one of her colleagues that very thing, with the same sad expression on her face. Then would she end up resenting me? Would it destroy the relationship we had worked so hard to build and strengthen together? Bella tried comforting me as much as she could, assuring me that nothing would change, even if that did happen, which she thought was highly unlikely. And in any event, it wasn't something we needed to contemplate for at least a year, let alone before we even started trying.

All that worrying turned out to be for nothing, since it was just over three months later that the second line appeared in that window. It had begun—Bella was pregnant with our child.

I tried to find an even balance in my life between work, home, making sure our child would have everything he or she would ever need, as well as trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I definitely did not want to be a workaholic father that my child would only know as a figurehead in our household, but I also couldn't bear the thought of my son or daughter seeing me as a weak, indecisive man, unhappy with his job, but doing nothing about it. I wanted to be someone my kids could look up to and be proud of; an example for them, not a warning of everything not to do with your life.

But what was it that I actually wanted to do with mine? I had no idea, and the fact that I was about to become a father without the slightest clue, scared the shit out of me.

By the time Bella was almost at the end of her second trimester and we learned that we were going to be welcoming a bouncing baby girl into our lives in a few months, I was no closer to figuring it out. My wife never pressured me, and obviously, neither did my father, since my indecision benefitted him tremendously, but I was becoming frustrated.

"Edward, it's not like you have a time limit. You could figure it out today or ten years from now, as long as you eventually find what will make you happy," Bella said one night as we lay in bed together, her back to my chest and our hands caressing her quite pronounced baby bump.

I may not have found a career I wanted to pursue, but as we prepared for the arrival of our little girl, I did discover something I enjoyed. I was also surprisingly good at it, even though I had never done anything of the sort before in my life, not even in high school—woodworking.

I have no clue what prompted the idea to cross my mind in the first place, but one Saturday morning as Bella slept in, I began Googling how to build baby furniture. I wanted to contribute something to our family other than money, since my wife was doing all the hard work of carrying her, complete with aching back and swollen ankles, in addition to still going to work every day. What was I doing, aside from helping with simple things around the house, going with her to doctor's appointments as often as I could, and massaging her feet and shoulders at night? She insisted that I was doing plenty, and more than most husbands, but I didn't feel that.

I figured I would start with something small and simple—a small table to sit beside her rocking chair in the nursery. Not only did I enjoy the process of building and creating something functional, I also found that my anxiety was far more manageable when I had that kind of an outlet. And as an added bonus, Bella absolutely loved it.

So, after a discussion with my wife, I decided to enroll in a basic woodworking course to learn more.

Within that eight-week period, I came to a conclusion that I was not sure Bella would be entirely pleased with, and that alone made me a little nervous. I was watching her grow more with our child, and I was happy with my life as it was in that moment. My job wasn't the problem, as boring and tedious as it had become over the years. What I had needed was a challenge and an outlet for myself, not necessarily a new career. I didn't want to quit my job or really do anything else.

Building up the courage to tell Bella that was quite difficult for me. Would she be disappointed in me, after she'd been so supportive and proud through it all? And what about my daughter? I wanted to be her hero, as most fathers do. Would I be?

When my course came to a close, even at more than eight months pregnant, Bella decided to surprise me with a romantic celebratory dinner. I hadn't been expecting that, and had planned to come home that day, present her with the jewelry box I'd made for her as my project in class, and talk to her about it all. I wasn't going to ruin the special night she had arranged, though.

Unfortunately, in that instance anyway, my wife saw right through me and read me like a book. As hard as I'd tried to hide it, she knew something was weighing heavily on me.

I, on the other hand, had difficulty deciphering Bella's reaction when I finally told her. She sat there, silently observing me, with only a contemplative expression on her face.

"Bella, please say something," I finally said, my chest beginning to tighten.

Bella took a deep breath and then reached her hand across the table for mine, gazing at where they were joined for a moment before meeting my eyes. "Is this your decision?"

I knew what she was really saying then; did I come to this conclusion on my own, or did my father have any influence on it? I understood her concern. I knew it could be so easy to fall back into old habits and patterns like that, especially with a new baby to provide for soon. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and nodded. "Yes, this is entirely my decision."

Bella nodded slowly, appearing deep in thought for several moments, and I thought I even saw the hint of tears in her eyes. That was exactly what I had been afraid of; I never wanted to be the cause of her pain like that ever again.

"Bella, I'm sorry, I don't need to…"

"Edward, stop," she said firmly, her gaze locked with mine again. "Don't apologize for or backtrack on any decision you make. When it comes to this, only you can decide what is right for you. And I am fine with it, as long as you promise me that you never let it consume your whole life again, and you don't fall into your father's trap."

I lifted her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. I knew she really didn't trust my father at all, and far be it for me to blame her. Neither did I. "I promise. I want to be parent for my daughter, not just the man that helped create her. And you will never be second to anything ever again…well, except her."

Bella's lips trembled a little with her smile as my gaze dropped to her belly and then returned to hers. "As long as you're happy with it and our family still comes first for us both, that's all I want."

.

.

.

Eight Years Later

I have kept that promise I made to her, even after our daughter, Ryann, was joined three years later by her brother, Gabe. I still have the same job, but rarely have I ever put in as much as an hour of overtime. I've been home nearly every night for dinner, and weekends are devoted to my wife and children.

Being a father may not be easy, but I have found that it truly is "the hardest job you'll ever love", as I've heard in the past. And it's also been the most rewarding experience of my life as well. Watching them grow and develop their personalities has been remarkable; how absolutely opposite they are is astounding.

Ryann is our loud one, and almost the spitting image of her mother, except for her head of curly red hair and bright green eyes. There is not a shy bone in her body, and she's so smart, it's both terrifying and amazing. She's become my little helper on the weekends in the workshop I now have in the garage, always anxious to learn something new and create things with her hands. Even at two years old, long before I felt it was safe enough for her to actively participate in any way, she was my constant companion out there, just observing and asking questions—albeit simple ones at that age, such as "what's that, Daddy?" about various tools and such—as I built a new crib and changing table while Bella was pregnant with Gabe.

Our son, on the other hand, is quite the opposite and reminds me so much of myself when I was a child. The only difference is Bella's big brown eyes staring back at me from that little face. He's very quiet and reserved, and was even as a baby and toddler, but extremely affectionate as well, for which I am glad. At least that much he's inherited from his mother's personality. He's the one that's the most content sitting in a corner playing quietly or curled up on the couch with one of us watching a movie. Or collecting bugs, which really creeps Bella out when he brings them in to proudly show her; though to her credit, she tries not to squirm much in front of him.

I'm the luckiest man in the world, and I am determined to never take any of it for granted. I have had the love of an amazing woman for nearly twenty years, and now have two beautiful and remarkable children, who currently have me pinned beneath them on the grass in our back yard in a game of tag. And I am happier than I ever could have imagined even a decade ago. I thank whatever higher power there may be that Bella is the incredible and patient woman that she is, and that she never truly gave up on me.

I don't even want to contemplate what my life would have been like if she'd actually left me, and I was still stuck in that rut I was in back then. Working myself to death with nothing to show for it but a loaded bank account and an empty house, still shut down from the world. Lonely and miserable, watching my life pass by and never truly living. No marriage is perfect, and we still have our arguments from time to time, obviously, but we never tear each other apart in screaming matches anymore. We are happy, and that is reflected in the smiling faces gazing down at me right now.

"I'm hungry, Daddy," Gabe, now five years old, comments as he lays across his sister's back, pinning her against my chest.

"Sorry, you're out of luck. I've been tackled by two little monsters, who won't let me up," I reply, throwing my arms dramatically onto the grass above my head, and I was met with a chorus of "Dad!"

I wait for a moment as the bounce impatiently on my chest, then sit up with a growl as my arms now wrap securely around them both, causing them to giggle uncontrollably.

That and the soft chuckle I hear from my wife a few feet away are the most beautiful sounds in the world to me. My family is happy and healthy, and my children love me unconditionally without an ounce of fear. I'm a good dad, just as Bella assured me that I would be.

And I'm not even the tiniest bit afraid of the third, and final, addition to our family joining us in three short months.

The End