A/N: Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Not really the most romantic sorts of oneshots I could have finished for this day, but it is one that has been special to my heart for a very long time. This was my go-to thing if I was feeling especially uninspired, jot down a few hundred words or so, and then call it a day lol. Obviously, it is once again inspired by a song I absolutely adore and can't listen to anymore without thinking of these characters. And because of the rating, you've probably already figured out that there's no smexy times, just something short and sweet (I hope), and hope you all enjoy it. Thank you for checking it out. :)

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer still owns all the Twiverse, Brad Paisley's got the song... I just own my imagination

And I hope I'm at least half the dad

That he didn't have to be

~"He Didn't Have To Be" - Brad Paisley

1992

I heard the door of our small apartment close and the familiar sigh coming from my mother as she dropped her purse onto the kitchen table. Tears prickled at my eyes as I buried my face further into my pillow. I should have been asleep by that time, but I worried about her. She'd been so sad and lonely since my father left, and I wanted to see my mom happy and smiling again. And not just because I made a funny face at her, or brought home something I made for her in preschool. But when I slid out of my bed and crept over to my bedroom door, peeking out into the living room, I knew right away that it wasn't going to be that night.

My mom's fragile body shook as my aunt, Alice, held and comforted her on our couch through her cries. Before I even heard her begin to explain the night's events, I already knew and I made my way back to my bed with an ache in my chest.

She'd told another date about me and they didn't want the package deal. It didn't surprise me, since even my own father didn't want me, but I hated watching her suffer through it, too.

"Maybe I should just give up, Alice," I heard my mother say in the next room in between her soft sniffles. "They all seem wonderful until they find out about Edward, and then they're off and running. And that's my baby. There's no me without him."

"Don't give up, Esme. There's someone out there, perfect for both you and Edward, I just know it. Men are like tomatoes. You've gotta squeeze a few duds to get to the firm and solid ones."

Yeah, I didn't understand Aunt Alice much, either, but at least it made my mom laugh.

And over the following two months, I started spending a lot more time over at my aunt's house, which I didn't mind so much. It usually just meant that my mom had to work a lot and I got to spend time with my uncle, Jasper, and cousin, Nathan. But after a while, I began really missing her and wanting to see her for more than a few minutes when she stopped by to tuck me in at night.

So I was really excited when Alice told me the morning of my fifth birthday that my mom had made special plans to be home for a small party for me. I literally ran up the four flights of stairs, ahead of everyone else, anxious to see her, but stopped dead in my tracks just inside the door.

My mom looked different. Even in her normal "around the house-wear" of jeans and a t-shirt, and the slightest hint of makeup, she looked so pretty. Her smile was so wide as she came across the room to pull me into her arms and wish me a happy birthday, I could hear it in her voice as she spoke and thanked Alice for bringing me home before she left. Yet, it was more than all that keeping me frozen to my spot in the doorway.

Standing several feet behind my mother was a tall, blond man I'd never seen before, and he was looking directly at me. I bit my lip nervously as she stood and took my hand, hiding behind her as much as I could while we approached him.

"Edward, this is my very good friend, Mr. Cullen. Can you say hello?" she said softly, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

My eyes rose to look up at him; he seemed so big and intimidating to me. I quickly looked down, hugging tighter to my mother's leg, mumbling a quiet "hello."

The man lowered down to crouch in front of me, bringing him to my eye level, and held his hand out for me to shake. Since it was "Mommy's friend", I knew it would be rude not to, and I didn't want to upset her. Not when she finally looked that happy, so I placed my hand in his.

I squeezed as firmly as my small one could manage and shook it. "Hello, Mr. Cullen. I'm Edward Anthony Evenson. It's nice to meet you."

He gave me a kind smile and chuckled softly, and I looked up at my mom. I wanted to show him that I wasn't just some stupid little kid, so I didn't mess things up for her again, but he laughed at me. And I didn't understand why. "Hello, Edward. My name is Carlisle. It's very nice to finally meet you, too. I've heard so much about you from your mom."

I glanced up to my mother and she smiled at me, running her hand over my hair reassuringly. She talked about me with him? And he still wanted to meet me? Nothing about her expression seemed to be forced and I watched as her eyes shifted to the man in front of me again, and there was even a twinkle in them as she gazed at him. "Are you Mommy's boyfriend?"

Once again, he laughed, but it was different that time. There was a slightly nervous ring to it, and he glanced up to her almost questioningly, while I leaned into her leg more. I didn't mean to be funny.

My mother knelt down beside us as well, rubbing my back gently. "Yes, baby. Mr. Cullen is my boyfriend. Are you okay with that?"

I pursed my lips in thought and my eyes shifted between them before I nodded. I liked seeing my mom happy, and I'd never seen her look as relaxed and carefree as she did right then, or gaze at anyone as she did him, not even my dad.

She kissed my forehead and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. "Are you hungry? I made you chocolate chip pancakes."

"With whipped cream?" I asked with a wide smile, which grew as she nodded, and I hurried to the kitchen to find a plate already set at my spot on the table. It was stacked high with warm pancakes and even had a smiley face drawn on the top with cherries and chocolate chips. "Thank you, Mom."

As I began to dig in, I noticed that neither of them were eating, only sipping on coffee, and I could feel Mr. Cullen's eyes on me, even when I wasn't looking. I tried really hard to remember my manners and not eat too fast or chew with my mouth open, no matter how good those pancakes tasted. I even asked for some more milk as politely as I could, and my mom looked so proud of me.

"So, baby, listen," she started as she placed the glass in front of me and took her seat beside Mr. Cullen. "We were thinking about maybe going out to a movie today. What do you think?"

I froze mid-chew and glanced over to her, attempting to restrain the tears wanting to form in my eyes. It was my birthday; my day with my mom. And she was going to leave me to go out with Mr. Cullen? I'd have to spend another day with Aunt Alice and Uncle Jasper? Normally, I wouldn't mind, but on my birthday? My shoulders slumped in disappointment and then I shrugged.

"Edward, what we mean is, we'd like to take you out to a movie today. Your mom told me that you wanted to go see Aladdin," Mr. Cullen said with a warm smile and my jaw dropped.

None of my mother's boyfriends had even wanted to meet me before, let alone share any of their time with her. Yet, he hadn't hesitated for a moment to invite me along. I nodded and chewed my lip; I had wanted to go see it badly, but my mom had not been able to take me while it was still in the theaters. So now, I was even more confused. How could they take me to see a movie that I had already missed, even if it was my birthday? Besides, I didn't think a grown up like him would actually want to go to a Disney cartoon. My mother was one, too, but I knew she secretly loved them as much as I did.

Mr. Cullen seemed too good to be true.

"Okay, then how about we finish up breakfast and we'll go. And then we can come back and have some cake," my mother said, with a hint of excitement in her voice.

Once my plate was cleared, I ran to the door to wait for them, and my face flushed as they both chuckled. For a moment, I forgot that I was supposed to be on my best behavior and not embarrass my mom.

She didn't seem upset or annoyed with me, and neither did Mr. Cullen, and I let out a breath of relief. Good, I didn't screw things up for her. She even kissed my cheek once she cleaned the syrup off my face with a baby wipe, despite my groans of protest.

Throughout the drive, I analyzed them as much as my five-year-old mind could manage. My mother's smile never ceased and her hand was held in his between the seats the entire time; they both looked happy. I wasn't ignored, either. I was included in their conversations and Mr. Cullen didn't talk to me like I was a baby—I liked that. He was so cool and I found myself already praying that he wouldn't leave like my dad did.

When I spotted the sign over a small movie theater, I could barely contain my excitement. I began bouncing in my seat while we parked, after I did in fact see "Aladdin" in big, bold letters. It had been so long since I'd been able to go to a movie with my mom. She was always so busy with work and everything. She helped me out of the car and held my hand as we walked around to meet with Mr. Cullen, and I took a chance and reached my other one out to take his. He looked surprised, but closed his fingers around mine and smiled down at me.

He really likes me, I thought to myself and skipped between them in my happiness.

My nervousness crept back in, however, when he bought our tickets and I tugged lightly on my mother's arm. She bent down and I cupped my hand around her ear and whispered. "Can I get popcorn?"

"You're still hungry after all those pancakes?" she asked with a laugh and I shrugged.

"What's a movie without popcorn?" Mr. Cullen said and smiled at me again before looking to my mom. "If it's okay with you, that is."

"Please, Mom?" I begged quietly and squeezed her hand.

She agreed and tried to pay for it, but Mr. Cullen was quicker, and even I laughed at her attempt at a scowl. And he didn't get just one big bucket for us all to share; he got me one of my very own and a cherry Icee as well.

It was the best day ever.

~oOo~

The summer passed and we spent a lot of time with Mr. Cullen, mostly at his house. He had what seemed like a mansion compared to the apartment I shared with my mom, with a gigantic back yard and the biggest pool I had ever seen. She would sit on the lounge chair, watching us while he taught me how to swim, and he never seemed to get bored playing with me in the water, or tossing a ball back and forth once we had to get out when our skin got all wrinkly. He didn't get mad when I rode my bike on the lawn and skidded across it when I fell, messing up the grass.

He was the closest thing I'd ever had to a real dad, and it made me very unhappy at times that he wasn't. My real father had never taken the time to do any of those things with me, from what I could remember in my fading memories of him. Even saying goodnight to me before bed had seemed like a huge chore for him. Mr. Cullen, however, would get this sad look on his face just when we would have to leave at night for my mom to go to work, even if we'd be back the next day, and worse when school started. I was beginning kindergarten, and our time together became limited to the weekends.

When Christmas Eve rolled around, we spent the day at our apartment, and that night, I got to pick three presents to open like I usually did. I stood at the tree, contemplating which ones to choose, and I spotted a huge box with "To: Edward, From: Carlisle" written on the tag. I thought hard about whether I wanted to open it or save it for the morning. It was almost as big as me.

I picked two smaller presents from my mom, still eyeing the large, wrapped box with a big red bow on it as I sat down to open them. One was an electronic Battleship game I'd wanted for like ever—to a five year old—and the other was a Gameboy with Mario! I jumped up from the floor and ran over to hug her tight. "Thank you, Mom!"

"You're welcome, honey," she replied, kissing the top of my head. "You still have one more present to open. Which one would you like?"

I glanced over to the tree again, then to Mr. Cullen, before raising my eyes to her. "Can I open the one from Mr. Cullen?"

"If that's the one you want," she said and I bounced anxiously. "Then go on."

With her encouraging nod and a look of approval from him, I raced over to kneel beside the box. I began tearing at the shimmery paper and my forehead wrinkled at the sight of the plain, brown cardboard underneath, giving no hint as to what was inside. My nails picked at the tape holding it closed and growled in frustration.

"Here, you need some help?" he asked and I nodded, sitting back as he rose from the couch and made his way over to me. With the pocket knife on his keys, he sliced through the plastic strips and the top loosened with a snap.

I lifted the edges, digging through the paper inside and my jaw dropped, and my eyes felt as if they might pop right out of my head. All the Lego sets I had put on my Christmas list the day after Thanksgiving were stacked in neat piles, right next to a huge blue bucket of extra pieces. I had enough blocks to fill my whole room and last me forever! I was speechless.

"Are you going to say thank you, Edward?" my mother's voice cut through my daze and I shook it off, bringing my eyes back to Mr. Cullen.

"Thank you," I said softly, shifting nervously before I stood and made my way over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

I'd never hugged him before in the six months I'd known him, and I wasn't even sure he'd wanted me to then. His shoulders stiffened for a moment, but just as I was about to pull away and apologize, I felt him relax and circle his arms around me as well. "You're very welcome."

That night, I was lying in bed, and like most kids, I pretended to be asleep when my mom checked on me, when I was really listening for Santa. What I heard instead was so much better.

"You really didn't have to do that, Carlisle, but thank you. I think you've made Edward's entire year," my mother said with a soft laugh and I heard the distinct sound of a soft peck of her lips on his.

"I'm glad. He's a good kid, and you know I love that little boy," he replied and my eyes widened. As quietly as I could, I slid out from beneath the covers and tiptoed over to the door to listen more closely. He loved me? I pressed my ear to the wood, but the sounds from outside became too garbled, so I pulled away slightly but not too far.

"…and I love you, too, Carlisle. But don't you think it's a little too soon?" my mother's voice sounded and I furrowed my brow. What the heck had I missed?

"Esme, you and Edward mean everything to me, and I would be honored if I could receive your consent to adopt him."

Tears began spilling down my face, but I was the farthest from sad that I'd ever been. I wasn't so young that I didn't know what that meant. He wanted to be my dad, and he wanted me.

"I don't know. This is pretty sudden and a lot to take in. It's a huge responsibility and something you need to be absolutely sure about," my mother answered in a teary voice.

"I've been sure. This isn't a request I'm making lightly or haven't put a lot of thought into. I've known for months that you are the one I want for the rest of my life, Esme. And for me, Edward isn't just part of a package deal in order to have you. I want a life with you both, if you'll have me," he said and I heard my mother gasp suddenly. "Will you marry me, Esme?"

I listened intently for her reply, but none came. All I heard were soft cries as I begged in my mind for her to say yes, until her bedroom door opened across the hall from mine and the front door did as well.

Running back over to my bed before anyone could catch me, I climbed back under the covers and pulled them over my head. Santa, I know it's late, but please let Mom marry Mr. Cullen. You don't even have to bring me toys.

~oOo~

The next morning, I walked out of my bedroom and down the hall to the living room, hoping that Santa heard me. But under the tree that was still twinkling with lights was a big stack of presents, and the plate of cookies we'd left on the coffee table was empty, except for a few crumbs.

I was too late; he hadn't heard me.

I shuffled across the rug to lay on the couch and wrap up in the blanket there, gazing at the overstuffed stocking with my name stitched on it, set on the cushion of the chair beside me.

If it were any other Christmas, my fingers would be itching to start opening all my presents and I'd be jumping on my mother's bed to wake her up by then, but I was too sad. I hadn't thought to ask Santa sooner for what I really wanted, because I didn't know how badly I actually did. And it was so obvious.

I wanted a mom and a dad. And more summers like the last one. And fishing trips and camping and all the things boys did with their dads. Having that other hand to hold and swing between. I wanted a family.

I must have fallen asleep again because the next thing I knew, I opened my eyes to see my mother's face right in front of me as she gently stroked my hair. "Good morning, sleepyhead. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mommy," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with my fist.

"Merry Christmas, Edward."

My hand froze and my eyes finally opened again, rising to spot Mr. Cullen standing behind my mom with a smile. He's still here! He didn't leave! I thought, but couldn't speak through the trembling of my lips and the sob stuck in my throat. I kicked the blanket off my legs and scrambled off the couch, launching myself into his arms and hugging him tightly around the neck. He returned my embrace without hesitation that time and I even felt him kiss the top of my head. My father had never done that, as far back as I could remember. And with that one action, my tears began falling and I buried my face in his shoulder.

The cool touch of my mother's fingertips stroked my cheek, and I could hear the worry in her voice when she finally spoke again. "Baby, what's the matter? Did you have a bad dream?"

I shook my head vigorously and hid my face further into Mr. Cullen's neck as another sob escaped me. I was sure he thought I was a big crybaby by then, but I couldn't stop, and I wasn't letting go.

Once again, he took me by surprise and stood with me in his arms, carrying me over to the couch and settling me on his lap. I turned my face to watch my mom sit down beside him while resting my head on his shoulder. "Then what's going on, little man?"

I hung my head in embarrassment, so scared to answer, but my mom lifted my chin again until I met her eyes. "Tell us what's wrong, honey."

With a nod of encouragement from her, I looked up to him and saw the same look of worry on his face as Mom's, and my tears came back no matter how hard I tried to stop. "Please don't be mad."

"I won't. I promise," he assured me, but my stomach was still tied up in knots, making it hard for me to continue. "Edward?"

I nervously bit my lip, looking between him and my mom before looking down at my hands. "I tried going to sleep like I was told, but I was too excited about Santa coming. And I heard you and Mommy talking."

"And that upset you, sweetheart?" my mom asked and I shook my head, hiding my face in Mr. Cullen's shirt so neither of them would see me crying.

"Edward, it's all right. No one is going to be mad at you," he said in his always calm and patient voice, brushing his hand over my sleep-tangled hair.

"I heard you leave and I begged Santa to keep my toys and make you stay. But they're all here, and I don't want you to go."

I felt my mother shift closer and their arms hug around me, while he lowered his cheek to rest on top of my head and spoke first. "I'm not going anywhere for a very, very long time."

For a moment, I stopped breathing and lifted my face to look at him. He gazed at me with the most contented expression I'd ever seen on him, and found a matching one on my mother as I glanced at her. I nuzzled into his chest again and my mother's hand cupped my cheek, stroking it comfortingly until I felt something cold on my skin. I turned my head toward her hand and saw a large diamond ring on the finger that even a five year old knows the meaning of. "You're marrying Mr. Cullen?"

Mom locked eyes with him briefly, and for a second, they both looked scared. She returned her gaze to me and nodded, exhaling a shaky breath. "Yes, honey. Mr. Cullen asked me to marry him, and I said yes. Are you okay with that?"

My eyebrows pulled together and I brought my gaze back to him. "But I heard you leave last night."

Mr. Cullen's head tilted slightly, and then his lips twitched with a smile. "Oh, that. I was just helping out Santa with all your presents."

I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble more and my eyes stung with overflowing tears. "You're really gonna marry my mom?"

"I would like to. Very much," he replied and my smile grew wide before suddenly falling again. "Edward, what's wrong? You don't want that?"

"No. I mean, I do. But," I paused, my shoulders falling as I released a heavy sigh and I leaned toward his ear to whisper, "I don't think all your stuff is gonna fit in our apartment."

My mother covered her mouth with her fingertips and hid her face in his shoulder for a moment, while he tightened his arms around both of us. She finally turned her head to look at me again and her smile even made her eyes light up. "Carlisle isn't moving in here. We're going to be moving into his house, in just a few weeks."

"We're gonna be like a family?" I persisted in my questions, still unable to believe it was all real. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure I was actually awake, but I also didn't want to move at all. In the arms of my mom and Mr. Cullen, I felt wanted, protected and loved. So if it wasn't real, I hoped to stay asleep for as long as I could.

"Exactly like a family," my mom answered, stroking my cheek lightly with her fingers.

My face hurt from the endless smile I wore, but I didn't care. I snuggled between them on the couch, still leaning into Carlisle's side, and closed my eyes. After counting to ten, I opened them again, and nothing had changed. The Christmas tree was still twinkling in front of me. My feet were still a little cold from not being covered by the blanket. And I still felt two bodies on either side of me, each with their faces rested against my hair.

I was so caught up in the happiness I was feeling that the next thought I had caused me to gasp and throw my head back to look up at them. "Does this mean all my presents have to go back to Santa?"

My mother snorted out a laugh while Mr. Cullen's lips pressed together, and I couldn't help but feel a little offended. I was being completely serious and they thought it was funny. I'll never understand grownups—they laugh at the weirdest things, I thought to myself before my mom took a deep breath and answered. "No, Edward, you can keep your presents, too."

~oOo~

2010

Was life easy sailing after that? Well … not exactly. I did finally progress from calling him Mr. Cullen to Carlisle by the time he married my mother four months later. Yet, as much as I wanted him to be my dad, I was still hesitant to call him the actual word for another year beyond that. Would he hear it and realize the responsibility the title held, and leave, too?

I'd never heard them even disagree before, and the first time their voices even raised with each other, I ran to my room and locked the door. The last memory I could recall of my father was of him screaming at my mom right before he left, and he never came back. I didn't miss him; hell, I barely remembered him or even what he looked like at all. But I could remember the yelling. I didn't want Carlisle to leave, and even to a young child, it was clear how much my mother loved him. I didn't want to watch her heart break again. It would have been so much worse than the last time.

After giving me—and probably themselves, as well—some time to calm down, they were both at my door. I finally mustered the courage to open it twenty minutes later, and I charged out to lock my arms around his waist. "Don't go, Dad. Please don't go."

That was the first time I saw the strongest man I ever knew, so much as shed a single tear. He kneeled down in front of me, and as I brought my gaze up, it met his misted blue eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Edward."

"But you were yelling," I choked out, unable to control my sobs any longer, and my small body shook in his arms.

It took several years before I felt completely secure in the knowledge that not every argument meant he would leave, nor was every bout of anger—rare as they were—directed at my mother. Even after I legally became a Cullen just a few months shy of my eighth birthday, and Carlisle was officially "Dad", a part of me was still waiting for the bubble to burst.

And damn, did I put that man through hell in the process; yet he never once gave up on me. If there was ever any one person who deserved sainthood in my book, especially throughout my rebellious teenage years, it was Carlisle Cullen. Which made me all the more anxious about the moment I was about to encounter.

In the middle of the previous semester, I met and quickly fell in love with the beautiful girl sitting in the car beside me, holding my hand as I drove up the long driveway toward my home. Bella and I had been together for six months and I already knew that I had met the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and that she felt the same way. We'd begun making plans for the future together once we each completed our undergraduate degrees in the spring, so the introduction to Mom and Dad was in order—especially since I had already inadvertently met her father during one of his surprise visits to her in October.

Thank god he didn't arrive fifteen minutes earlier, that's all I'll say.

"Edward, you seem as nervous as I should be. What's wrong?" Bella asked with a calm chuckle, giving my hand a gentle squeeze with hers.

I pulled the car to a stop in the driveway and released my hold on her to park, but did not move to get out. Leaning back in the seat, I looked up at the house that I had once thought was a mansion. In the eyes of five-year-old boy who'd spent most his brief life in a cramped, two-bedroom apartment, I could see how it actually might have appeared that way. I remembered the first time my mother carried me up the front walk because I was wide-eyed and slack-jawed, staring up at the intimidating structure. Now, as a twenty-three year old man, I saw the only slightly less than modest, two-story house, where I'd spent a very comfortable, happy childhood. I may have wanted for nothing growing up, but even when I remained an only child, I was far from spoiled, and I never felt "rich". I had chores—like mowing that "gigantic" back yard, which still was no exaggeration—and an allowance appropriate to my age at the time.

I wasn't pampered, and because of that, it felt like home, rather than a place I just lived for most of my life.

I closed my eyes and took a slow breath in and out, smiling when I felt her fingertips trace through my hair along the shell of my ear. I turned my head to look at her, and against the backdrop of the snow-covered trees and lawn outside, she looked as enchanting as an angel to me. "I love you."

"That's what is wrong? Thanks," Bella replied teasingly and I rolled my eyes, taking her hand in mine again and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I love you, too, by the way."

I hummed in contentment as she leaned toward me and met my lips with hers, taking just a moment to enjoy such a simple pleasure. Bella was an amazing woman who made me happier than anyone ever had, and I was crazy about her. However, knowing my mother as I did, I knew she was more than likely at the window and swatting away my dad's attempts to pull her away, so I was highly aware that we could very well have an audience. And that was not exactly the introduction to my parents that I had in mind.

Reluctantly, I pulled away and gave her a smile, shaking my head. "Nothing is wrong, baby. I promise. Ready to meet my mom and dad?"

Bella took a deep breath and then pulled down the visor to check her appearance one more time. "Don't even roll your eyes, Edward Cullen. There is nothing wrong with making sure I look nice for something as important as this."

I couldn't help my chuckle as she side-glanced me at the end, a tiny smirk touching her lips before pressing them together once and flipping the visor back up. "You look beautiful, Bella."

"And you're biased," she added, exiting the car and waiting for me at the front.

I grabbed our bags from the back seat and took her hand once I joined her, and she threaded her fingers between mine as we walked together toward the front door. "And that is entirely beside the point, baby."

She rolled her eyes, but her grip tightened minimally on me with each step we took, until the front door swung open.

"Sweetheart, you're finally here!" my mother cried, with actual tears and all, taking the two steps down to us and wrapping her arms around me. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," I replied, setting the bags down and returning her hug with one hand still holding onto Bella to keep her steady. Even trace amounts of ice on the ground were treacherous while in the heels she insisted on wearing to Christmas Eve dinner at my parents' house. "It's a special occasion, as well as meeting your parents for the first time. I need to dress appropriately." Clearly, that was logic that made sense to women, and any man with a shred of common sense knew better than to argue. I could feel her hand begin to tremble in mine against the cold air around us, so I pulled back from my mother and smiled. "Mom, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Bella Swan."

Bella gave her a smile as the two shook hands, and she blushed a little when my mother lightly kissed her cheek. They exchanged pleasantries, but my eyes rose to the doorway. Inexplicably, I felt like that five-year-old boy all over again as I gazed at the tall blonde man, though now slightly grey around the temples, standing a few feet behind my mother.

Naturally, I'd brought girls home before, in high school and even in my first years at college, but Bella was different. And while I loved my mother and valued her opinion enormously, it had always been my dad that had that sixth sense about the girls I'd dated. He could tell me with a silent shake of his head, "This isn't the one."

And the man had never been wrong. Either they cheated on me, broke up with me shortly thereafter, or else tried to change me into someone I wasn't, and I broke up with them. Not that I felt that Bella was anything like any of them; quite the opposite. She was everything I could ever want, and even loved my "dorky science guy side", as much as I loved her "nerdy Shakespeare girl side". But that one nod or smile from him would mean so much to me.

My hand secured around Bella's and it caught her attention, bringing her line of vision to join mine. I took the remaining steps to the doorway, releasing her fingers to slide my arm around her waist. "Bella, I'd like to introduce you to my father."

In that moment, it didn't matter that there was absolutely no biological link between the two of us. In every way that was truly important, Carlisle Cullen was more than some guy who stepped in to fill the "dad" role. He took on the good and the bad, the fun and the difficult. He'd both taken me out fishing and grounded me for a month when I came home drunk in the middle of the night at fifteen. He'd been my disciplinarian, as well as my loudest cheering section, right alongside my mother.

He was my father.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cullen," Bella said softly, shaking his hand as well, and if it was possible, I would have fallen in love with her all over again right then and there.

Her smile and tone were genuine, not forced and trying to paint herself in a better light. Of course she wanted them to accept and like her, but she wasn't going to be anyone other than the wonderful woman I had fallen in love with.

As my dad leaned in to kiss her cheek gently, his eyes shifted over to me and he gave a subtle wink—clearly, he had noticed that, too. "It's very nice to meet you as well, Bella. Come on in out of the cold, you two."

My mother walked up on the other side of Bella and took her arm to lead her inside, and I felt his hand on my shoulder before I could pass to follow them. No words were spoken as we shared a brief, one-armed hug, but the pat on my back spoke volumes. So far, he'd liked what he saw.

Once we'd settled in and got our bags brought up to my old room, we all gathered in the kitchen, where my mother was preparing dinner. Watching Bella interact with my parents was encouraging. The slight hint of nerves that struck her upon arriving hadn't taken long to dissipate, and to a casual observer, it could have appeared as if she had been part of our family for years. Her hand encased mine as we all talked, and wasn't the least bit shy about leaning into my casual kisses to her forehead or temple.

However, her eyes did widen a little when my dad stepped up behind my mom and held firmly onto her hips as he bent to kiss her neck.

"Carlisle, we have company," she whispered, half-heartedly swatting at his hands and sighed dramatically before she turned her head to peck his lips with hers. The air of annoyance she was trying to exude was contradicted completely by the smile she was fighting, tugging at the corners of her mouth. "There, now go set the table, you incorrigible man."

"Yes, my love," he answered with a smirk, kissing her cheek and stepping back from her, but as he turned to leave, his hand lightly patted her ass and caused her to gasp.

Bella's lips parted in surprise, gesturing with her finger toward my retreating and chuckling father, "Did he really just…"

"Dad," I groaned as my elbow rested on the table and my palm met my forehead. "You'd never know they've been married for almost eighteen years."

"You shush," Bella said with a giggle, lightly smacking my shoulder. I looked over at her to find the slightest hint of a flush to her cheeks, but her smile was wide and contagious. "I think it's sweet. Now it's clear where you get it from."

My father's laugh echoed from the next room, and my gaze moved over to my mom, who was glancing over her shoulder at me with an amused, raised eyebrow. "That's my boy!"

I scratched my jaw and pinched my eyes closed as the laughter escalated around me, but in truth, embarrassment was the last term I would have used to categorize the way I was feeling. The pride present in my dad's words, even at something as simple as my affectionate nature with my girlfriend, was unmistakable. And it filled me with a pride of my own.

I was proud to be Carlisle Cullen's son.

~oOo~

Present day

It has been three years since the day I met Bella, and almost two since she took on my name. Not only did I get the smile and nod from both my parents that Christmas Eve at dinner, but my dad's words later that night still rings in my mind to this day.

"You seem genuinely happy, son," he said and I couldn't tame my smile as I nodded. "The way that young lady looks at you … that's the look I fell in love with in another pair of eyes almost two decades ago, and still has me hooked every single day of my life. She loves you as much as you love her. This is it."

The next morning while we were exchanging presents around the tree, I handed Bella the small gift bag I'd hidden in my suitcase. She opened it and removed all the tissue paper, and by the time her eyes found the small velvet box at the bottom, I had lowered onto my knees at her feet. Her breath froze in her throat and she brought her gaze to meet mine as I asked for the one gift I desired more than anything in the world, with four simple words—will you marry me?

It was the longest three seconds of my life that it took for her to say yes, but we'd already had a wedding date set before we left my parents' house the day before New Year's Eve. And we were married the following August.

Perfect isn't a word that can accurately label any marriage, and to be honest, I don't think I would ever want it to describe mine. Our differences allow us to remain individuals, which was who we fell in love with in the first place. But are we happy? More than ever.

While relaxing on our anniversary over a bottle of wine, we had the discussion about what the next year of our marriage would bring, now that we had successfully hurdled the first. We were ready for the next step.

And here I stand, two days before my own birthday, staring through the glass at the ultimate culmination of the love that Bella and I share—in the form of a perfect, eight pound, three ounce, beautiful baby boy named Andrew Carlisle Cullen, with his namesake right beside me.

"It's an amazing feeling, isn't it?" my dad says, gazing through the window at him.

He never got to experience any of this; the months of anticipation while watching his child grow within the woman he loved, feel those kicks and nudges against his palm, or as I had only hours ago, holding that tiny person in his arms only minutes after welcoming him into the world. He and my mother had not been able to have a child of their own together, but he never made me feel as if I were anything less than his flesh and blood, or more importantly, resented because I wasn't.

"It is. Best thing I've ever felt," I say with a smile, while my mom and Bella's parents stand around us, debating about every tiny feature of my son. Her eyes, my nose, her chubby cheeks when she was little, my long fingers that my mother can't wait to see play the piano … the list goes on and on. "Thank you, Dad."

"You and Bella did all the work, Edward. I'm just the proud grandpa," he replies, his eyes wrinkling in the corners and beaming.

I shake my head and turn to look at him. "No. If it wasn't for you, I'd be absolutely terrified right now. So scared of screwing up and not being a good father. But you came in and took on that five year old brat, and gave me a great role model."

"You were never a brat, Edward," he answers with his arm around my shoulders, smiling through the emotion I can see building in his eyes. I chuckle and raise my eyebrows at him, and even he laughs. "Okay, maybe not never, but very rarely. The decision to be your dad is still the best one I ever made, right up there with marrying your mother. Loving you as my son, that was effortless."

"And I'm saying thank you for that," I repeat intently and bring my gaze back to my little boy, who is now starting to doze off. "I don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate everything you've ever done for me, or that I love you. I know I'll never be perfect, but if I'm even half the dad you showed me how to be, I'll be doing pretty damn good."