I had Bella's ring - all I needed was the perfect opportunity. But what did that look like? Was it on the beach at sunset or on a camping trip in the middle of nowhere? Should I ask her while on a romantic harbour boat cruise or on bended knee at the Space Needle? Wherever it was, the proposal and location had to be perfect.

The perfectly imperfect day came one rainy October evening. After work I had a short nap, and when I woke up Bella had dinner ready. Not just any dinner - coq au vin. Red wine, chicken, butter, onions, and thick cut bacon - it's heaven in a pot, king of all stews, and it happens to be my favorite.

"Wow. What did I do to deserve this?" I asked, scratching my fingers through my nap-induced crazed hair as I took a seat at the table. Bella shrugged as she ladled the goodness into a bowl.

"It's one of my favorite meals."

"Mine, too," I said.

"See, great minds think alike." It was yet another reason why I knew we were destined to be together. I leaned across the table and gave her a kiss on the lips. "This is a very pleasant surprise. Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome. Now eat, before it gets cold." I wasn't going to waste time arguing. One bite and I moaned.

"Oh my God. This is amazing."

"Thank you."

And in that very ordinary moment on a rather mundane Tuesday evening, I realized my life with Bella wasn't either of those things. She made every day amazing and beautiful. Every moment was perfect if she was in it.

I blurted out my proposal unceremoniously without giving it a second thought; more as a statement than a question.

"Marry me."

Bella laughed. "You want me to marry you because I made you coq au vin? Wow, if I knew it was that easy I would've made it on our first date." She grinned at me and continued eating but when she realized I wasn't joking she slowly lowered her fork.

"I'm serious."

"I'm sorry - what?"

"I...I…" Nerves made me stutter. I sank down to my knees - partly because it was the proper thing to do but mostly because my legs were about to give way. Bella started to cry.

"Bella, will—"

"Yes! Yes!"

I laughed. "Aren't I supposed to ask the question before you say yes?"

"Sorry!"

"Well, the moment is ruined now." I joked and went to stand up but Bella tugged me back down.

"Don't you dare."

My hands started to shake. "I don't think you have any clue how fast my heart is beating right now." My voice was barely audible. Bella took my hand and placed it against her chest. "Probably as fast as mine." Indeed, it was.

I thought about my proposal - the one I'd practiced for days in front of the bathroom mirror. I'd tell Bella how much she meant to me, that I didn't know how amazing life could be until she was an integral part of it. I was going to be articulate and sweet. I would ask her to do the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife and slip the ring on her finger.

"Will you? Please?"

Bella kissed me, giving me an irrevocable yes. At least I hoped it was. I don't even recall if she gave me a verbal reply.

"Oh, shit!" I pulled back.

"What? You want to recant your offer?"

I kissed her again. "No way! Wait right here!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

In my room I dug around in my underwear drawer for the ring. I ended up tossing everything out and onto the floor before I found it buried at the very back. In the kitchen, I went on bended knee again.

"Bella Swan will—"

"I already said yes, Cullen. Now, give me my ring!"

I laughed as I slid it onto her finger.

The next few hours were a little chaotic with phone calls to Isabella, our parents, Emmett and Rosalie. Rose started planning the 'big event', as she called it, that evening, even though Bella and I had yet to set a date.

After all the calls, Bella fisted my shirt and dragged me to the bedroom where she reiterated her definite yes.

In the aftermath, lying in bed naked except for my ring on her finger, I knew I'd found my happily ever after.

…

Bella and I were married six weeks later in Las Vegas, close friends and family by our side, and Isabella in the coveted spot of best man/daughter. Rosalie wanted us to have an elaborate summer wedding but Bella had no desire for anything lavish, and I didn't want to wait. Besides, I didn't care how it happened as long as at the end of the day we were pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Cullen - doesn't that have a nice ring to it?

Our wedding wasn't some cheesy affair at the Chapel of Love with Elvis officiating, although personally, I wouldn't have minded. It was a beautiful and intimate affair on the rooftop deck at the Bellagio, overlooking the water and the strip - a very generous gift from Rosalie and Emmett. Rose insisted if we were going to married in Vegas, it was going to be in style. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

My beautiful bride wore a strapless white dress, her hair tumbling in loose curls over her bare shoulders. I fought back tears, failing miserably, and blundered up my vows. I was extraordinarily lucky to be marrying Bella, and thankful for every step that brought us together.

And that gorgeous wedding gown? It looked even more beautiful in a puddle on the floor of our hotel room.

…

You know how what happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas? It's a lie.

Nine months and two weeks after our wedding, another daughter blessed my life. Miss Charlie Rose, at eight pounds and one ounce, is just as beautiful as her momma and her big sister. As with Isabella, I lost myself to her at once. Mere seconds after she was born into this world, my heart missed beats and exploded simultaneously. It's still the best feeling in the world. Truthfully, I was worried I wouldn't be able to love Charlie as much as I did Isabella- but it didn't take any time at all to realize that was a baseless concern. It's incredible feeling to have so much love in your heart.

They say when you have a baby, you experience a newfound love, one you didn't know existed, toward that child. And it's true. My love for my daughters is like no other. No one tells you, though, how much more you will fall in love with the woman who made that tiny human and brought her into the world. No drug could match that euphoric rush, that intense wave of love which swept over me.

Charlie was immediately born into a world of love and laughter. Bella's labor was progressing well, but then the baby got stuck. When the nurse brought out some...weird, doctor-y tool to 'help' my eyes went wide.

"Those are freaking salad tongs! You're not putting any kitchenware in...in there!" I cried. Despite her pain, Bella laughed so much. Hard enough that Charlie was dislodged and born after a few good pushes. That moment, as my new daughter took her first breath, was indescribable. By far and away, the most amazing, faith strengthening thing I've ever seen, outside of Isabella's birth.

Seeing my wife smiling down at our darling baby girl laid on her chest left tears streaming down my face in pure adoration. It was overwhelming. I had this thought of 'you are mine' - referring to both mother and child - but it wasn't in the sense of possession or ownership; it was that we all belonged to each other. Forever and always.

Being a dad again in my forties has been a hell of a lot easier than being a dad in my teens. It helps not doing it alone, that's for sure, but I'm much more confident in myself. Isabella turned out fabulously and most of the time I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Charlie should be just fine.

…

A year and a half after I tied the knot, I was walking Isabella down the aisle of her own extravagant wedding to Garrett. After countless meetings with the wedding planners, the caterers, and photographer, I was so thankful Bella and I had the stress-free version.

The days leading up to Isabella's wedding were harder on me than our college separation. How many times had my daughter told me she was going to marry me one day? Her ceremony marked the day Isabella officially stopped seeing me as the most important man in her life. It hurt. A lot.

At the rehearsal the night before, Isabella gave me a gift. A simple linen handkerchief embroidered by her with her wedding date and the words: Dad, you will always be the first man I ever loved. Thank you for all the sacrifices you made for me. Love, Isabella. It's one of my most prized possessions.

Then the dreaded day came. Me in a monkey suit; she in the most exquisite wedding gown I'd ever seen, looking radiant. Flooding my mind were pictures of the little girl I'd rocked to sleep, helped dress in the morning, the one I walked to school, the girl that went to the prom with a boy named Jake. My little Isabella was all grown up.

My heart was racing as we waited to walk down the aisle to her forever. I was giving Garrett the best I had to give - my heart and soul in a beautiful yet fragile package. It was gut wrenching.

We stood at the back of the church, her arm through the crook of mine, waiting for the flowergirl and ringbearer to walk down the aisle. I glanced at Isabella. My baby.

Her pigtails replaced with an updo, curls framing her face. Jeans and a tee shirt swapped for sequins and pearls; flip flops for heels. She wore a garter belt instead of Bandaids. It was all too much. I swallowed hard.

"Ready, kiddo?" I gave her hand a squeeze.

Isabella's smile widened. "I'm ready."

"You're sure?".

"Dad." She rolled her eyes. "That man," she gestured to the front of the church where we knew Garrett was waiting, "The way he laughs makes me smile, the way he talks gives me butterflies, when he makes me a cup of tea at one am because he knows I can't sleep...gah, even the way he yells when his favorite player fumbles the ball - everything about him makes me happy."

I blinked back tears because, once upon a time, it was me that made her happy; I'd been replaced.

"Isabella, I want you to promise me something."

"Of course. What is it?"

"If ever there comes a time when Garrett stops making you feel beautiful, or anything less than amazing, you stop and re-evaluate your relationship. You deserve happiness, always."

Tears misted her eyes. "I promise, Daddy."

Daddy. That word is my fucking kryptonite. I willed away the tears.

"Time to go. We have a walk to make."

With her arm through mine we made our journey into the church. Every step felt as though my feet were encased in concrete.

Was I doing the right thing, giving my daughter away to this man?
Was he good enough for her?
Could he ever love her enough?

And then I saw Isabella, smiling as big as I'd ever seen, emitting happiness; tears of joy rolling down her beautiful face. I saw Garrett, who was choking back tears as he watched his bride come toward him. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

We made our way down the aisle and paused in front of the pastor.

"Who gives this woman to this man?"

I answered very quietly, my breath caught in my throat. The words refusing to be spoken aloud.

"I do."

I can still feel her kiss on my cheek before her arm slipped from the crook of mine and she took Garrett's. Bittersweet. When they were pronounced husband and wife, my daughter was no longer Isabella Cullen. It sounded foreign...and yet also right. Yes, she was Garrett's wife, but she was still my daughter. Always my daughter.

The rest of the day was filled with many more tears but I went to bed that night knowing Isabella was happy, truly happy. And that was all that mattered to me. Although when I thought about them doing that in the hotel down the street…yeah...still not cool.

...

Isabella heard through mutual friends that Jacob got married shortly after she did, to a much younger girl. Considering my wife is 11 years my junior, I have no comment on the age difference. As long as they're happy, who is anyone to judge? Love is love is love.

...

Ally made contact a few years later. Somehow she managed to track me down, though I'd long since moved from the original apartment complex. She showed up at my house on Isabella's birthday. We were all there, the usual crew, and had just finished our horrible off-key rendition of Happy Birthday when there was a knock on the door. I left the others in the kitchen while I went to see who was calling. I recognized her immediately.

I want to say Ally looked like hell. Weathered and far older than her years. Her black hair turned grey and frizzy; bags circling under her eyes twice over. Her complexion ashen and her thin, pursed lips with only the faintest of rouge to them. But really, she looked the same, just older, with an air of impudence about.

"Hello, Edward."

I'd like to think in the decades since I'd had contact with her I've grown and matured. Enough where if I were to see her on the street I could say 'hello', albeit with gritted teeth, or wave 'hi' (with my middle finger), and hopefully not want to maim her for being the horrible, nasty person she was. The reality was the instant I saw her, years of hatred seeped through my veins, gnarling my fists.

I narrowed my eyes to slits. "What do you want? I don't have time for any of your fucking bullshit." I kept my voice low so I wouldn't alert Isabella.

"I want to see Iz."

I clenched my jaw as I corrected her. "It's Isabella. And no, you can't."

"Ed—"

I lunged at Ally, spitting words in her face.

"Get. The. FUCK. Out of my house before I call the goddamn cops."

Someone, Emmett or Garrett I didn't know, yanked me a safe distance away, giving me a verbal warning to stay cool. I shook them off and was about to attack Ally again when Isabella walked into the living room. I froze, my fists balled at my sides.

"Hey, Dad…."

She stopped mid-sentence, glancing back and forth between me and Ally. Her eyes widened and I knew she had figured out who was at the door. Seamlessly, we- Emmett, Garrett, Rosalie and I- flanked Isabella's side.

"Hi, Iz...Isabella."

"Ally. M...Mom."

I growled. Sure, she was her mom, on a fucking technicality. Ally may have carried her for nine months but I carried her a hell of a lot longer than that.

My daughter's hand found mine. I don't know if she was comforting me or vice versa but I held on tight.

"Why are you here?" Isabella showed a calmness in her voice which kept it monotone yet concise.

Ally shrugged her shoulders. "I was curious about you."

Isabella's grip on my hand tightened and I knew without looking at her that Ally's statement had pissed her off. My daughter was a time bomb and the seconds were rapidly counting down leaving Ally precisely three seconds to explain herself.

One.

"You were curious about me?"

Two.

Ally nodded.

Three.

"You walked out of my life a without a backward glance then show up decades later, unannounced, because you were fucking curious?" Her words were laced with venom. Ally shrunk, cowering on the spot.

"No 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you' or even, shit, 'How ya been, kid?' Nooooo, you're here because your morbid curiosity got the better or you? You're fucking unbelievable!"

"Maybe this was a bad idea." Ally turned to go.

"No!" Isabella screamed with all the rage you'd expect from a girl who was meeting the woman who abandoned her as an infant. "You do not get to walk away from me."

"I - I'm sorry. Go ahead."

"You are a selfish, horrible person. I don't even know you but I hate you. Hate! I'm glad I never had to pretend to love you."

Isabella was trying hard not to cry. I clutched her hand tighter, giving her strength to continue if she wanted or the okay to walk away. She pushed through her anger, her pain, and continued. Her voice broke initially but she regained her composure quickly.

"I never missed you, just so you know. Dad never let me. He's everything I've ever needed. And when I was growing up, he didn't say one mean thing about you. Not even once. Do you know why? Because he wanted me to believe in fairy tales; he wanted me to believe in love."

Silence fell as the words hit Ally. She looked at me. "Why would you protect me like that?"

I snorted. "It wasn't you I was protecting. I never wanted to be your hero, Ally. Only Isabella's."

"I'm—"

I interrupted her because I didn't give a shit what she had to say.

"You said you were curious about her? Well, let me enlighten you. Isabella is fucking amazing. She has given me a reason to smile every single day. I feel sorry for you because they are reasons you will never know. Cannot fathom. You've missed out on a lifetime of happiness, Ally. And I warned you if you walked out that door you were never welcome back. I meant it. Go back to your pathetic little life and get the hell out of ours."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have come here." Ally opened the door, stepped through then paused as she turned to face our - my - daughter.. "Just one thing before I go."

Isabella stepped forward, standing tall in front of her mother. Ally smiled, thinking she was being given a second chance to plead her case.

"Thank you. I—"

Isabella slammed the door shut, quite literally in her mother's face. Whatever she was going to say, no one cared. Even if she would have apologized for leaving all those years ago it wouldn't change a damn thing. Some things are unforgivable. We never saw or heard from the bitch again.

There was a time when confronting Ally might have left Isabella a broken, sobbing mess but she was a new mom herself, to three-month old Mason Edward. The magnitude of Isabella's hatred toward her mother wasn't truly felt until she had fallen head over heels in love with her son. The question of how Ally could leave - and what the hell was she thinking when she did - will never be answered.

...

Life is good. Better than good. It's grand. My family and friends mean the world to me. My girls especially fill my heart with an abundance of love and happiness.

Over the course of this journey I've fallen and risen, made mistakes and memories; been hurt and done the hurting. And through it all I've learned valuable lessons.

I know we are not entitled to anything. All those years ago, I expected my parents to take responsibility for my mistake. I thought they should raise my child while I went away to school. I can't imagine what I would have lost out on, how vastly different my life would be, had they done so. I was just a kid when Isabella was born; at such a formative age of becoming myself. I am who I am because of her.

Isabella taught me to trust in myself even though my body felt like it was formed of doubt. Patience was learned while holding a potty training little girl over a toilet and when watching a slug cross the sidewalk with an enthralled seven year old. Isabella made me understand that being rich has more to do with what's in your heart and very little with what your bank balance is. I learned to be a little less serious and a lot more silly. Knowing that every day, all day, I was setting an example of how to be kind, compassionate, and loving made me strive to be the best man I could be.

Most importantly, because of one special little girl, I learned to love. Unabashedly. Ardently. Irrevocably.

A special part of my heart will always belong to my sweet Isabella Claire. Of all the things in my life that I might have, could have, or should have done differently, there's one thing I'd never change and that's having her as my daughter. Sometimes the things we can't change end up changing us. I am forever thankful.

I cannot thank you all enough for all your support of this fic. You took a chance on this story - a very different kind of love story. There was no guarantee of Bella coming into Edward's life; no promise of a happily ever after for our favorite guy. And yet you accepted that and week after week you continued to read and review. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for being wonderful.

Alanna: Hvala. Dank je. Merci. Þakka þér fyrir. Gratias ago tibi. Ngiyabonga. There's only so many ways I can say thank you in English but Google translate helped me with a few other languages. I love you.

A special thank you to Honeybee Meadows who pre-read the first batch of chapters and told me to keep going. Love you, Bee.

I hope you will leave a farewell review - it would make me incredibly happy.

Until next time...