Just for the night turns into four days.

Four days without sleeping in the same bed as my husband. Four days without goodnight kisses. Four days without finding my toothbrush on the counter, toothpaste already on the bristles, because he woke up before me and wanted to be sweet.

Despite talking on the phone every day, we don't speak longer than a few minutes and it's never anything more than superficial conversation. And once, just once, did he ask when I was going to coming home.

Maybe he doesn't want to push. And maybe if he did push, I'd pull further away.

Even so. It still hurts when I wake up and don't have a call from him, begging for me to come home. And I wonder if maybe he feels the same way when he realizes I'm not begging to go back.

XXX

When Alice's name appears on my phone, I'm not surprised. What is surprising is that she hasn't contacted me sooner.

I think about not answering her call, but then the neurotic part of me—the one that wants to make sure nothing's happened to Edward—kicks in and I hit accept.

"Hey, Alice."

"So I know this is super last minute," she says, out of breath, shushing a screaming Stella. "Can you watch the girls at five? Just for an hour and a half, maybe two."

I glance at my watch. It's almost three. I was going to get lucky and get out of the office at a decent hour. So I could watch them. But the pridefully petty side of me doesn't want to.

"Can Edward do it?" I ask. It's my subtle way of figuring out if Alice even has the slightest clue about what's going on right now.

"He didn't answer."

"Well—"

"Bella, please. I have an appointment, and I totally forgot about it because my brain is just, ugh. I'm losing it. And I just need your help. Please."

"Okay. I'll be there soon. Just know that desperation doesn't suit you."

"Thank you," she says with a small laugh. "I owe you."

As suspected, I'm able to sneak out of the office a little early, putting off any emails until tomorrow morning. And as promised, I head straight to Alice and Jasper's place, arriving a couple of minutes before five.

When I pull next to the curb, I take a minute to breathe, reminding myself not to act weird. Everything is fine. All I have to do is act like I haven't been sleeping in a hotel for close to a week now.

A sad, drooping pumpkin sits on their porch. It's wilted, on the verge of molding, and maybe Edward was right when he told me we were carving it too soon. That it wouldn't last until Halloween.

He was right. I was wrong. And the anger of that realization flares inside me.

I knock twice before letting myself in the house. The girls don't run to greet me, which probably means they're watching TV. My suspicions are proved correct when I round the corner and see them engrossed in some show, which bounces between talking, animated animals and clips of real animals.

"See? I told you I owed you," Alice says, pulling me in for a hug. "They never get to watch TV during the week."

"You're a saint." I smile, teasing. "You're doing it wrong, though. That show's not rotting their brain. It looks… educational."

"I know, I know," she says, moving around me to quickly pull on her coat. "I'll only be gone an hour. Probably. Avery can eat whatever, and I already made a plate for Stella with her finger foods. It's in the fridge." She grabs her purse, blows hair out of her face. "Love you, girls!" she calls out, then she's gone. Which never happens. She usually takes a good twenty minutes to get out the door when Edward and I are here.

I try not to dwell on how weird that was as I plop down on the couch next to Avery.

"What are you watching?"

She doesn't answer. So I try Stella. I gently tug on her baby pony-tail, and she coos before crawling into my lap.

"Ba-ba," Stella says, looking at me, then the TV.

"Are you trying to say Bella? Bel-la," I say, slower this time.

Nothing. I'm invisible. Part of me wants to let them keep watching because they're a hell of a lot more calm this way, but another part wants to shut it off and make them entertain me with their adorable selves.

A couple of minutes later, the show ends.

"Another!" Avery squeals.

"Ah. I think the internet went out." I turn off the TV and set Stella on the floor by my feet. "Let's go outside."

Avery's not buying it. "We don't need the internet 'cause that show was on regular TV, not Apple TV."

I miss the days when I could outsmart her. "Let's go outside for a few minutes and then we can watch one more."

"What does Sissy think?" Avery asks. Stella babbles and smiles. "I think she wants to go outside. But first I have to show you the picture I drew today! Mommy even put it on the fridge 'cause I'm an artist."

"Amazing. Let's go see it."

I pop Stella on my hip and follow a proud Avery into the kitchen. She gently pulls her drawing off the fridge and holds it up. "This is my family. You're in it, too. See!"

There are many stick figures on the paper. So yes, I see, but I can't tell which one I am. Not until she points me out.

"My best friend is in it, too, because friends can be family sometimes. You know?"

I try not to cry or think of Lauren and how she's due in a couple of weeks, or how a six-year-old knows more about treasuring friendship than I do.

"Where are you?" I ask, tapping her nose.

"I'm in the tree. See! And there's the baby in mommy's belly. He's still so, so tiny and needs to grow more before he can be our brother!"

This makes me pause. Because yes, kids comes up with lots of things sometimes. Just a month ago she was telling me that a squirrel jumped through her window and punched her in the eye. But this just… doesn't feel like something Avery would make up.

"You're going to have a baby brother?" I question, trying to keep my demeanor calm. And I am calm. I'm happy for Alice and Jasper. If they want more kids, that's wonderful. They're amazing parents, and have the best kids.

But then I start to wonder. If maybe this is why Edward started to change his mind. I wonder if he knew and didn't tell me. I wonder if they've all been in on this and if me coming over here to watch the girls was some sort of… scheme so I'd give into the whole idea of having kids.

My thoughts spiral, and I wonder if Alice and Jasper, and all of Edward's family, to be honest, think I'm not good enough for him because I won't give him kids.

The thought is enough for me to up and leave. But I wouldn't do that. Of course I wouldn't leave the girls. That wouldn't just be fucking awful, that would be stupid because they have nothing to do with this. So I make them dinner and tell them silly jokes, because being a kid means you get to be oblivious when another person's world is crumbling around you.

When it's half past six, Edward walks through the door. His tie is off, the top button of his shirt is undone, and the exhaustion he wears is more than I've seen on him in a while. But he still manages a smile for the girls and doesn't protest when Avery tackles him.

It's almost like he avoids my eyes for the first minute he's in the room, distracting himself with the girls. But when he finally finds my gaze, he doesn't let go.

"Hey," he mumbles, rubbing his eyelid with the heel of his hand.

"Can we jump on the trampoline?" Avery all but screams.

Edward looks to me, like I'm the one with all the answers. I don't really have the energy to play with them, especially not when I want to talk to Edward. So I remind them they have one more show to watch, and their attention is immediately diverted.

We stand in the doorway of the living room, just out of earshot, but close enough so we can see them.

"You don't have to stay," Edward says in a hushed voice, keeping his distance.

"Oh."

"Alice and Jasper are on their way home."

"I can wait," I say with a clipped tone. "Don't want to miss the news that they're having a boy."

He gives me a strange look. "What?"

"What? This wasn't a whole scheme to get me to come over here and play house and get us back together?"

"I had nothing to do with you coming here. I didn't even know you were here until I got a text from Alice twenty minutes ago." His frown deepens. "And I didn't fucking realize we weren't together," he whispers harshly.

It'd be so easy for me to reply with something snarky, to keep this going. But then I realize the exhaustion he's wearing is pain. He doesn't even try to hide it—isn't trying to pretend he's not miserable.

And it kills me. My chest aches, and any anger I felt is gone, replaced with shame. So I hold back from resorting to low blows and words neither of us can take back.

"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it, yearning for him to understand that I don't want it to be like this. "I didn't mean it like that. It just kind of came out, and—"

"Forget it," he murmurs.

I try to. I really do. And maybe he does, too.

We watch the girls in silence for a minute or two before he speaks again.

"I didn't know Alice was pregnant," he admits.

"Well this is according to Avery."

"And she's always a reliable source," he says, the corner of his mouth slightly lifting. "Didn't she say a squirrel punched her in the eye?"

I nod, smiling a little, and then we're laughing. Together. And it's like the past week of anger and hurt and being prideful has evaporated. Because it's easy to justify being upset when I'm alone. But standing in front of him and seeing him and longing to touch him… it's just easier to be ourselves again.

"When are you coming home?" he says, breaking the silence we've fallen into.

I study his face, the sincerity that his expression holds, and I know I don't have to ask, but, "Do you want me to come home?"

He reaches out and grabs my shoulders, bending his knees a bit so he's staring me straight in the eye. "Of course I want you to come home. You know I do."

"I want to, too," I confess, grabbing at his collar, tugging him closer. "I'll come back tonight. But things aren't okay. Not yet. We still need to figure this out."

"I know," he says quietly, dropping his head against mine. "You can't leave me like that again. Okay?"

"Okay."

We hold each other tighter than we have in a while. And as we stand here, breathing in and out, murmuring apologies and I love yous, I use every ounce of hope in my bones to promise myself that we'll figure this out.

XXX

The days following our fight are easy.

After I move back in, we don't talk about our disagreement. We don't touch on the sensitive subject, because it was easier not to. So instead of talking it out, we both become our best selves again. Attentive. Agreeable. Both desperate not to get to that place we were a week ago.

It's easy as we busy ourselves with work and getting ready for our upcoming trip to Aruba. It's easy, and nothing feels forced. Nothing with Edward ever feels forced.

Except for the one topic we're actively trying to avoid.

And avoid it, we do. As long as we can.

XXX

It's early in the morning, before my alarm sounds, that my phone rings. I reach for it, eyes still closed. Tyler had called yesterday, letting us know they were on their way to the hospital. And despite the fact that Lauren and I haven't spoken since our fight nearly a month ago, I find myself desperate to know what's going on, wanting to stay updated on her progress.

I answer, and Tyler let's me know that the baby's finally here. He says Lauren's good, a bit out of it, though, and that we can come by the hospital between eleven and one.

I congratulate him before hanging up, promising we'll be by later today.

"Was that Ty?" Edward asks, rolling over to face me.

"Yeah." I yawn. "Leave it to Tyler and Lauren to have a Halloween baby."

"Boy or girl?"

"He didn't say. Maybe it's a pumpkin."

Edward's laugh is low and sleepy. "Everything's good though?"

"I think so." I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "I think I'm gonna take today off. Or at least go in late. Do you want to go to the hospital with me?"

"Of course." He moves closer, kissing my neck before rolling out of bed and hopping into the shower.

XXX

I hate hospitals. I always have. It's a shared opinion among most people, I'm sure. But I don't hate them just because they're sterile and cold and filled with diseases. I despise them because they remind me of my grandmother and her battle with cancer a few years ago. They remind me that you can be in the best place to help you survive, yet you can still die.

Edward and I share the elevator with a man who looks less than thrilled to be here. I try to keep my gaze away from his general area, but it's hard not to stare at someone who radiates the kind of sadness that dwells in your bones.

The elevator slows, reaches our floor, and I tighten my grip on the balloon strings. Three of them float above us—one for a girl, one for a boy, and one jack-o-lantern, just because. I meet the man's eyes before I step out and give him the briefest of smiles. He doesn't return the gesture, but I don't expect him to.

I was already nervous, but now I'm even more on edge, filled with memories of my last visit here. Edward's hand finds mine, and with a small, reassuring squeeze from him, I tell myself that I can do this.

We follow signs and head toward the room number that Tyler texted us earlier. The door is half-open, but Edward knocks anyway, to announce our presence.

"Hey, guys!" Tyler greets, reaching out to envelope us both in a hug. He's beaming, the epitome of a man who just became a father and has it all.

"Congratulations," I say, smiling, awkwardly handing him the balloons while Edward sets the vase of flowers on a nearby table, which is already filled with a few other bouquets.

Lauren sits up a little in the bed, giving me a gentle smile as I make my way toward her.

"Hi," I say carefully, keeping my distance. She's wearing a hospital gown, but her makeup is done and she looks… normal. Not like she just spent the last eighteen hours giving birth.

Her gaze drifts past me, over to the guys. "Ty, will you go get the nurse and have her bring the baby in?"

Tyler nods, taking Edward along with him so Lauren and I are alone. I wonder if this was the plan, to give the two of us a second alone to make sure things are okay between us.

"You have a baby," I start off, which feels funny and forced. "How'd everything go?"

"Awful, but amazing," she laughs, tears brimming her eyes. "In the scheme of things, everything went as planned. But it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. And when I finally held him, it just…"

"I had a feeling you were gonna have a boy." I don't know why I say this, because it's not an actual thought I've ever had. I think about taking it back, but I don't know. Maybe I'm desperate to make up with her, desperate to grasp on and keep her my best friend a little longer before she becomes a mom.

"What's his name?" I ask.

"Tyler wants to name him Jack because of his Halloween birthday, but I'm not sold yet."

"Like jack-o-lantern?" This makes me laugh, but it's sweet. "That might be perfect."

"He's perfect. It's amazing, Bella… what our bodies can endure. I was in so much pain, but when the nurse handed him to me, seriously… it all disappeared. Like it never happened. I just had this perfect baby. It was all worth it. All of it."

She starts crying, uncontrollably now. And I don't know what to do. I can't relate, can't comfort her. Because is she supposed to be comforted? Or congratulated? I can't tell if she's upset or happy, or crying just because.

"Lauren? I'm sorry," I blurt out, wanting to get this over with, still not sure if I should be the one apologizing. "I'm sorry for getting so defensive a few weeks ago. I just…"

She wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. "I haven't even thought about it. You don't need to be sorry."

I pick at the skin around my thumb, feeling stupid for dwelling on something she hasn't even thought about. Because I couldn't let it go. To be honest, I still haven't really let it go. She'd called me selfish, claimed Edward said some pretty shitty things behind my back, and I fucking left my husband because of it. And things still aren't okay, not really. And she hasn't even thought about it.

There's rage, an embarrassment swelling inside me, but my thoughts are interrupted when the nurse walks in, wheeling a tiny plastic crib into the room. Lauren's attention is diverted as the nurse hands over the baby.

The room is quiet as we all stare at the new mom and her child. He's so small, so pink. His eyes are closed, and he's bundled, so all I can see is his head, which is covered in thick, dark hair.

Tyler and Edward move around the other side of the bed, both mesmerised as Tyler recalls the story of how Lauren went into labor, laughing about how crazy and hectic and scary all of it was.

"Do you want to hold him?" Lauren asks me.

My first reaction is no. No, no, no.

But I shrug instead, looking to Edward and then the nurse for confirmation. The nurse instructs us to wash our hands before Lauren delicately hands Jack to me. They tell me to support his head and hold him close, so I do what they say. It's not the first time I've held a newborn, but it's the first time in a while, and it's weird.

I stare down at him. "Hello, Jack." He starts to stir, so I quickly pass him off to Edward, who apparently doesn't need any instruction on how to handle him. He's a natural, the nurse says, watching my husband a little too closely. I don't usually get jealous, but something inside me brews as her eyes take in the sight of Edward holding a baby.

"—and seriously, it's like all of the pain just disappeared," Lauren says again, this time to Edward. "It was so worth it. I'm so in love."

Now it's my turn to watch Edward closely. To see how fondly he stares down at the baby in his arms. To feel the yearning practically radiating off of him. To gauge the way he smiles gently and speaks lowly when the baby slightly opens his eyes, staring up at him.

"He likes you," Lauren whispers.

"He's amazing," Edward says, just as quiet, making my chest ache and fill with an ugly feeling I can't control. A feeling I wish wasn't there, but it doesn't feel like it's ever going to leave.

I cough, excusing myself to the bathroom to get a minute alone because I'm scared that my expression will give away all of my thoughts. I flip on the light, glancing in the mirror only to find that I look the same, not a hint of resentment on my face. It's only when I return that Edward looks up and finds my gaze, but he doesn't hold it for long. Because he knows. He can see it.

XXX

"You never emailed me back. You can't possibly be that busy to not reply with a simple yes or no."

This is how my mother greets me when I answer my phone. She's always been one for getting right to the point.

"Actually, I have been busy," I say, grabbing dirty dishes from the counter and placing them in the sink. "Edward and I just got back from Aruba a week ago and—"

"I saw the pictures on Facebook."

"—I've been swamped at work."

"Well, don't let me keep you. I just need to know if you and Edward are coming for Thanksgiving or not."

I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder, turning on the water and filling the sink. I love this house, I do, but there's no dishwasher. And Edward, being his typical frugal self, doesn't think we need one.

"I don't know yet," I tell her.

"You've gone to Edward's mother's house the past two years. Can't you spare one holiday for us? The people who raised you?" She's laying it on thick. "Your dad wants to see you," she finally says.

My poor dad. I don't know how he hasn't fled from my mom. They've been married for the last thirty-six years, and he hasn't changed a bit. He's goofy and considerate and so nurturing. My mom, on the other hand, is cold and pushy and never pleased. It's sad, but I've drifted away from them over the years, gladly welcomed into Edward's family.

"I'll talk to Edward," I finally say.

A beat of silence, and then the real reason why she called: "I heard Alice is pregnant again."

I aggressively pour soap into the warm water. "You heard correct."

"That's wonderful news."

"It is. I gotta go, okay? I'll let you know what our plan is tomorrow."

I end the call before she has a chance to keep me any longer and do the dishes in silence.

XXX

When Edward gets home later that night, he finds me in the living room, half a bottle of wine in.

"Save some for me?" he jokes, kicking off his shoes.

I mute the TV. "This is what talking to my mother does to me."

He smiles, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with an empty glass for himself.

"That bad?" he asks. He's always had a soft spot for my mom, so getting him on my side is a struggle sometimes.

"She wants us to spend Thanksgiving at their house."

"Okay. We can do that, and then head to my mom's for dessert." I'm slightly irritated he agreed so easily. He must sense my annoyance because he says, "What?"

"I get that you love my parents, and they love you, but you're not the one who has to endure my mom's constant disapproval."

He pours himself some wine but leaves the glass on the coffee table, taking mine from my hand and setting it next to his.

"Bella." He sighs, gently pulling me over so I'm lying against him, my back to his chest. "She's not that bad."

"So last Christmas when she bought us baby clothes… that wasn't bad? And that one Thanksgiving when she said she researched my birth control and gave everyone at the table the gruesome details about how someone died from it? That wasn't awful." I sit up, reaching for my glass, facing him. "And the time we were out to dinner for your birthday and she gave you that card, saying how she adores you and wishes you would someday be the father of her grandchildren? That wasn't out of line."

He rubs my shoulder. "You let her get to you, and she knows it."

"Right. So why am I going to endure another year of torture?"

"Because she's your mom and she has good intentions, even if they're a bit unorthodox." I snort a laugh, but there's very little humor behind it. "What about your dad? It's not fair to avoid him because of her."

Edward's right, I know he is, and I feel myself starting to give in, mostly because I don't want this to become an argument. We've been doing so good, ever since Aruba. It's like all we needed was to get away and be ourselves again without anyone around.

I give him a sad smile. "Fine. We'll go for lunch, but if she starts her shit, we're gone."

"Okay."

"Seriously."

"I seriously love you," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss me.

"I love you, too," I say against his lips before kissing him back. "Even if your positivity is annoying sometimes."

He grins, keeping his face close to mine. His tan is fading, but the freckles that appeared after being in the sun for a week are still there.

"I have to balance us out somehow."

I shake my head, laughing. "You deserve a fucking award."

"Nah. I got you. That's all I need."

XXX

I'm five steps into my parents' place before my mom greets me with a kiss to the cheek, paired with a snarky remark about my outfit. Apparently today's feast was meant to be a formal affair, but I wasn't informed. I never am.

"Oh, leave my girl alone," my dad insists, pushing his way past my mom to pull me into a hug. "I don't meet the dress requirements, either, but I'm still gonna eat some damn turkey."

I glance down at my dad's slippers and laugh. They're worn and goofy and so comfortably him.

"Hey there, fella," he says, patting Edward on the back.

"Hey, Charlie." Edward shoots my mom a smile. "You look great, as always, Renee."

My mom beams at this while air-kissing both of Edward's cheeks, something she picked up after my parents' trip to Europe last summer.

"Whatcha got there?" my dad asks, pointing toward the two casserole dishes Edward's holding, stacked on one another.

"Top one's broccoli and rice casserole, bottom is brussel sprouts with pork belly."

"We already have brussel sprouts," my mom announces, looking at me, like it's my fault I didn't read her mind.

I bite my tongue, shrugging. "Now we have more."

Edward tries his best to appease the situation, saying he found the recipe for brussel sprouts with pork belly and couldn't resist making it. My mom gives in, charming him with a smile before taking one of the dishes from his hands and guiding him into the kitchen.

"Psst." I tug on the lower part of Edward's shirt before he walks away. "Thank you," I whisper, kissing his chin.

My dad talks his way into the living room, plopping down in his chair. "The neighbors are coming over. And some people from your mom's knitting club. Can't for the life of me remember their names, but they're nice."

"Fascinating."

He gives me a look, which I'm guessing is meant to convey play nice. "That's why she wants today to be perfect."

"Shocking."

"Bella." My dad doesn't scold. He never has. He's always been a sensitive man. Most days, I'm aware he's a million times cooler than I am. He stays fit with a local running group, and just recently completed his third marathon. He always has a good joke up his sleeve and a goofy smile on his face. And on days like today, his adoration for my mother is apparent, even if his reasons are unbeknownst to me.

So I try my hardest to keep the edge out of my tone. "What?"

"She's trying, okay? Even if she gets a little kooky sometimes."

"How is she trying? I didn't wear the right thing, didn't bring the right casserole. She's always been hard on me. Always. Whenever I don't do something she expects me to do, I get chastised for it."

Charlie releases a sigh. "She's always wanted the best for you."

"She has a funny way of showing it."

The doorbell rings, bringing the conversation to an abrupt end. With a quick, knowing smile, Charlie stands from his chair, ruffles my hair, and leaves the room.

XXX

Despite my doubts, the conversation during dinner flows easily. That is, until it's time for dessert and my mom's knitting friend, Joyce, decides to whip out her phone and show everyone her new grandchild.

She passes the phone around the table, and Sue, my parents' neighbor, catches my eye.

"Your mother told me Alice is pregnant again," she says with a warm smile, gaze bouncing between Edward and me. "That's exciting."

"It is," I reply. "They're great parents."

"Their kids are adorable. When are you—"

Before Sue can finish her sentence, my mom interrupts.

"Bella. Will you help me gather everyone's plates?"

It's unlike her to jump in like that, for my sake, and I'm not sure if she realizes that's what she's done. Then again, my mother is nothing if not a woman of intention.

I stand, stacking Edward's plate on mine. He gives me a look, and I nod in silent agreement. He knows from past experiences to step in if it turns into a screaming match.

Grabbing a few more dishes, I push the kitchen door open, turn on the water and stick a finger under the tap to see if it's warm. The kitchen door swings open again. Renee walks in, adding a few more plates to the pile on the counter.

Without a word, she disappears, only to return seconds later, wine in hand.

"You don't have to wash those." She leans against the counter. "We have a dishwasher."

I scrape pumpkin pie into the trash under the sink. "I'll still rinse them, though."

She hums, sipping her wine, watching me. A minute or two passes and the silence eats me alive.

"Or am I doing this all wrong? Shall I put the plate at a forty-five degree angle under the water? I'm not sure of the perfect Renee way to do it."

I glance over, check her reaction, watch her recoil at my words.

With narrowed eyes, she asks, "What's gotten into you?"

"Me? Nothing."

"Is it that much trouble for you to spend a holiday with us?"

"It's hard to spend time around you when you pick apart everything I do."

"I don't—"

"You gave me shit for what I was wearing. You gave me a look when I told you what we'd brought for dinner. You—"

She clicks her tongue. "You're being sensitive. I didn't mean anything by it."

My laugh is humorless. "Well, it seemed like you did. You're not the easiest person to please."

"Why on earth do you think that?"

I finish filling the dishwasher. She waits until I'm done before repeating the question.

"I don't know why I think that. Maybe every conversation we've had regarding kids and what I'm doing or not doing with my life gave me that impression." I've raised my voice, but take a deep breath before continuing. "Tell me. Honestly. Why do you hate the fact that I don't want to be a mom?"

She frowns, but it's not her typical scold. Sadness lingers behind it. "When I was younger, I wasn't that different from you. There was a point after your father and I got married that I was convinced I didn't want kids."

"When?"

"About a year after we'd wed. He was ready. But that was the scariest thing to me. We talked and we fought. I brushed it off and made excuses. Then it happened. I got pregnant. And your father was over the moon." She looks down, takes a sip of wine. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I was scared, and so young. I was only twenty."

"What happened?"

She inhales deeply. "I miscarried. And the next three times after that, I lost those babies, too."

Her words shock me. "I never… I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. I didn't want you to. I started to put a lot of blame on myself. I didn't want kids, therefore my body was purposely rejecting them. That wasn't true, but it was all I could convince myself of."

We both fall quiet, and I can see in her face that she's time-traveled, back to those memories.

"That's awful, Mom," I whisper.

"We got through. But it took many years. Your father always stuck by me. Always. He never blamed me. Even in the moments when I doubted everything the most, he never once faltered. He was so adamant, and his love was so… palpable."

I've never heard my mom speak like this. Ever. Not about love, and especially not about my dad. Obviously I knew they loved each other, that's the kind of thing you assume after a couple's been together as long as they have.

"When I finally got pregnant the last time, I was so scared. I was paranoid and overly cautious. I know it drove your dad crazy."

"And then you had me."

She gives me a brief smile. "I swore to myself I would do everything perfect. I wouldn't take you for granted. And I'm guilty for letting that translate into nagging, I know. I just want your life to be perfect. I don't want you to go through what I did. It broke me."

Her acknowledgment is the closest thing to an apology, and I'm grateful. I feel some of the resentment I've held against her slip away.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I really am." I pause. "But, Mom? If you didn't want kids at one point, why do you guilt me? You know exactly how I'm feeling."

"Because my reasons were just fears. And I'm worried it's the same for you."

"I'm not you. Of course I'm scared. But I'm also pissed because your backward way of helping doesn't work."

She gives me the tiniest, apologetic smile. "I never said I was the perfect mom. Being a parent is hard. I'm still not really sure what I'm doing, and it's been thirty-one years."

I open my mouth, but can't think of what to say. Her words are sincere, and I wasn't expecting this. Not at all.

"I'm sorry if I do things the wrong way, but I honestly do want you to be happy. I do. If not being a mom makes you happy, then that's that. But I see a lot of me in you. And a lot of your dad in Edward. And I worry so much that you're going to miss out on experiences, and you're going to miss out on Edward…"

"I'm not—"

"He called me. A couple of months ago. After you left that night."

"What?"

"Don't be mad. He was… torn up. He was devastated."

I blink away tears, and can't help feeling betrayed.

"So he told you. Everything."

"He did."

"Perfect. More people against me. I just—"

"Bella." She gives me a stern look. "No one is against you. No one. You're the one against yourself. You're the one you need to face to get over this. Don't you see?"

Her words sober me.

"What did he say to you?"

"You need to talk to him," she says quietly. "And you need to think long and hard about what you want. If you want Edward. Because I'll tell you right now, that boy loves you more than anything. And he said if it came down to it, being with you or being a father, he would choose you. Every time."

I swipe a finger under my eye, trying to keep the tears from falling. But it's no use. My mom hands me a napkin. Sue walks in, catches on to what's happening, then immediately walks back out.

"Thanks for…" I blow my nose. "Talking. And I will. Talk to Edward, I mean."

"You know, your grandmother and I didn't get along very well. Not until I had you. It's like… you softened her up or something."

I let out a small laugh. "Really?"

"Really. You're the only thing I've done right."

I shake my head. "You don't have to say that."

"It's true. And your grandmother would've agreed. I've grown so much just by knowing you, raising you. It's been the most wonderful and trying experience of my life." She pauses, gently squeezing my hand. "I just don't want you to miss out on anything because you're stubborn like me, or because you think changing your mind isn't an option. There's always an option. And an opportunity. And I don't have a single doubt in my mind that you'll choose what's best for the both of you."

XXX

It's a week before Christmas when Lauren reaches out. She texts, asking if I want to come over for coffee, and I tell her I'll stop by on my lunch break.

I haven't seen her or the baby since that day in the hospital, and I hate to admit that I didn't want to be the first to reach out. I was letting myself be petty, which felt good at first. Until it just felt weak, and cowardly. Suffice it to say, I'm happy she texted.

The air is frigid outside with the sky empty of clouds, leaving us with a clear and extremely cold day. The temperature is appreciated though, jolting me into a sense of alertness I was lacking in the warmth of my office.

When I get to Lauren's place after noon, and find myself staring at a note taped to their front door. Baby sleeping, please don't ring bell. Before I can even knock, the door is opening and Lauren is standing there with a friendly, but cautious smile.

"Smart of you to put that sign up," I say, my breath puffing out in little clouds as I speak.

"We've had a few disaster moments when Jack's been napping," she replies with a chuckle as she ushers me inside. "Coffee?"

"Please."

She disappears into the kitchen, and I set my bag and coat on the chair in the entryway. I stand awkwardly for a minute, taking in their place, scattered with baby contraptions, baby clothes, baby everything. Their house slowly started becoming more baby-friendly before she had Jack, but this is unlike anything I've ever seen. It's like Babies "R" Us exploded and the contents landed in their living room.

"I know, it's a disaster," Lauren says breezily, walking past with two mugs of coffee. "I do more laundry than I ever have before. There's always something to pick up, or clean. It's never-ending."

"Sounds… exhausting," I finally say, as we sit across from each other on separate couches. I feel something under me, and I pull out a small stuffed seal.

"We went to the aquarium last week, with Tyler's parents. Jack slept the whole time, but it was still fun."

"Oh." I know how not-so-fond she is of Tyler's family, so I'm surprised by this. "Are things good with them?"

Her smile is genuine. "Yeah. Things are better."

"That's really great."

"What's been going on with you?" she asks, glancing at the baby monitor next to her.

"Not much, I guess. We went to Aruba, that was fun." I almost tell her about the conversation with my mother, but stop myself.

"I saw the pictures you posted."

I stare at the ceiling. "Yeah."

Lauren finally says it: "Is this weird?"

"Very."

She lets out a small laugh, sounding like relief. "I thought it was just me. I'm sorry. I just… the way things ended with us the last time you were here… it's been on my mind a lot."

"It has?"

"Yes."

I tread lightly. "When we visited you at the hospital and I tried apologizing, you made it seem like you were over it."

"I mean, at that point I guess I was. I was about to give birth. You have to know I was going crazy. I couldn't focus on anything other than the way Jack pushed into my ribs and how I couldn't lay down comfortably."

"I didn't know. We weren't really talking at that point."

"God, I was a dick," she mumbles. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like our fight didn't affect me. It really did. And I'm glad you still came to the hospital, even after how horrible I was. I wish you'd been there with me before the delivery. And during, honestly. Tyler was helpful, but he did almost pass out at one point."

"Because you know, Tyler had the hard job," I murmur, and we both laugh. "Honestly, it's probably for the best that I wasn't there. The whole birthing process kind of terrifies me."

She gives me a gentle smile. "I know. It scared me too. It's just different when you're in it, and it's all happening. It's a real test of giving up control. Parenthood in general too, I guess."

We fall silent, but Jack stirs and makes noises on the monitor. Once Lauren is sure he isn't fully awake, she clears her throat.

"Listen, I'm sorry for bringing up all that stuff about Edward talking to Tyler. The way I made it sound was… worse than it was. I was angry, and I'm sorry. That wasn't fair to you, or Edward."

"Thank you," I say sincerely. "And I'm sorry—"

"You already apologized. Please don't again, it'll make me feel worse."

"Alright."

"Did I really fuck things up between you and Edward?"

"No." I think about leaving it at this, but things feel a little more normal now, more like us, so I tell her the truth. "Of course, when I brought up what you said, we had a terrible fight. And then I left. For like, four or five days."

She drops her head into her hands. "God, I'm so sorry."

"But we talked, and things are okay. They're not perfect by any means. I honestly feel like we've kind of just bandaged the situation for now. And I'm scared about what's gonna happen when it gets pulled off." I pause slightly. "My mom and I talked on Thanksgiving. And she told me all of this stuff about how she didn't want kids, then kind of came around to the idea, and had years of trouble getting pregnant. It sounded awful."

Lauren moves to sit next to me on the couch. "Oh, Bella. That's terrible. But… it doesn't really excuse the way she's treated you… you get that, right?"

"Right. But it kind of helped me understand her motives a little better. As fucked up as it all is." My eyes tear up, and my throat grows heavy. "I'm really glad you reached out 'cause I feel like I'm having a really hard time. I don't think I want kids, but I'm scared if I someday change my mind, that I won't be able to and it'll be like my punishment for being so against it for so long."

"You can't think like that."

I swipe at my tears. "Oh, but I do."

"Bella, why don't you want kids? Like really."

Reaching for a tissue on the coffee table, I wipe at my nose, and take a deep breath. "I don't… know. I've been so against it for so long, it just became this thing. Other than it being terrifying, and losing who I am, and seeing how all of my other friends who have kids are miserable—"

"Hey!"

"Not counting you," I murmur with a small laugh. "I love Edward so much. And then I'm supposed to give him this baby, that I'll end up loving more than him? That I'll put above him and myself, and lose sight of who we are as a couple? It's scary. I'm not ready."

"I don't think anyone is ever ready," she replies. "I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you to have a kid, I promise. Because you're right. You would love your baby more than Edward. As you should. You both would. But it's a different kind of love that you have for each other, Bella. And for a really long time, that kid would be all you talk about, think about. But you and Edward would be experiencing it together. You'd grow together. That makes it less scary. And so fucking worth it."

I sniffle, staring down at my lap. "God. I think I need to talk to him. Really talk to him."

"I think so, too." She pauses. "Would you ever consider adoption?"

"I don't know. Adoption has its own set of complications, that I definitely don't know if we're up for. And if I'm being truly, deeply honest… if we ever did have a kid… I think I'd want it to be ours. Have Edward's features… hopefully not my stubbornness. His mother's compassion, and my mom's…"

"Tenaciousness?" Lauren offers, and we both laugh.

"Yeah. That."

"Well, damn," she says, searching my face.

"What?"

"I've never heard you say anything like that. Ever."

"Was it as weird to hear as it felt to say?"

"Honestly? Not even a little bit."

I groan in frustration. "I'm not changing my mind, I'm not. But if I did… I don't want everyone who said I'd one day want kids to be like I told you so."

"Fuck 'em! This is your life. You can do whatever you want. Change your mind a million times. The only people it should matter to are you and Edward."

"I know," I mumble. "It's just hard to not care about what other people think."

"Well, learn to not care. The other day I went to the store to buy a giant pack of maxi pads, ran into my ex while holding them, then realized afterward that my nipples decided to leak milk all over my shirt." We both crack up at this, my tears now ones of laughter.

"Lauren! How is this not the first thing you told me when I walked in?"

"I had other things to worry about first. Like making sure we were still friends."

"Screw that—we're family."

Lauren grins, picking up her coffee, clinking it against mine. "To family."

XXX

The holidays pass in a blur, like they always do.

We spend Christmas Eve with Edward's family, and Christmas Day with mine. My mom doesn't gift us any baby items, doesn't even really mention the topic, minus one small suggestion on where to get our stockings embroidered, in case we were to add another to our little stocking family. It wasn't subtle, but I let her have it.

Things feel okay, not perfect, but good enough. It's tempting to keep us here, just hovering at good enough. But ultimately I know that won't last. It never does.

I don't tell Edward about my chats with Lauren last week, or even the one with my mom over Thanksgiving. I lock the contents inside, playing their words over and over again, keeping them to myself for a little while longer, until I'm ready to bring it up again.

When New Year's Eve rolls around, we head to dinner in Wallingford instead of our usual spot in Belltown, hoping to avoid all the traffic that comes with the holiday. Lauren and Tyler join us last minute, and for a while it feels like old times. The only difference comes with Lauren stepping out every so often to check-in with the sitter, and when after-dinner drinks are suggested, they turn the offer down and head home to Jack.

After goodbyes are said and hugs are exchanged, we make plans to meet up in the new year, and everything feels like it's going to be okay.

"Should I get an Uber?" Edward asks after Lauren & Tyler have driven away.

A loud, infectiously happy group of people walk past us, hollering about this and that.

"Let's walk home," I suggest, reaching out for his hand.

We walk in silence for a block or two, before Edward slows our pace and pulls me closer.

"How about one last drink?" he murmurs close to my ear. It tickles, and I kiss his cheek before pulling back.

"I can handle one last drink," I concede. "Wanna go to Al's Tavern?"

"Too divey," he says as he begins walking again, keeping my hand in his. "I have somewhere else in mind."

"Oh, do you?" I pull my scarf up over my mouth, hiding my smile. I love him like this. When he's happy and spontaneous and slightly intoxicated. His vibe is infectious and my heart is so full and warm.

We walk another ten or so minutes, until I see the dimly lit restaurant up ahead. It's tucked away in the neighborhood, a little hidden gem. It's also the location of our first date, but I'm not sure he remembers. It feels like ages ago, and I'm suddenly struck with a sense of nostalgia—two strangers meeting up, with zero expectations, and their entire lives ahead of them.

Edward guides me by the hand as we walk through the restaurant. There aren't many people in here, and the ones who are seem to be finishing up their food, or sparsely sitting along the bar. We walk toward a booth in the back, which also happens to be the same one from our first date. It's romantic and secluded, and the look on Edward's tells me he does remember.

I unwrap my scarf and pull off my coat. Edward takes them from me, lying them across one side of the booth. He keeps glancing at me, a small smirk on his lips, and I can tell he's in full charmer mode. He shrugs out of his coat and lays it with mine, before sliding into the booth next to me.

"Did you plan this?" I accuse.

"Sort of. I wanted to have dinner here, but then Lauren and Tyler joined last minute, so I switched our reservation. I wanted it to just be you and me here."

"I like when it's just you and me," I say, letting the double meaning linger. He angles his body toward me, right arm flush with the booth. "You didn't sit next to me on our first date," I tease. "What gives?"

He laughs. "You made me nervous."

"No way."

"Definitely. You weren't nervous?"

I think back, and shake my head. "I guess I just had a good feeling about us."

The waiter comes over; Edward orders scotch on the rocks, and I order a spicy Paloma. Despite the fact that it's after ten, I'm not as tired as I thought I'd be. We're usually in bed by now, but tonight feels different. Like something big is supposed to happen. Or maybe it's just the overall feeling that's associated with New Year's Eve.

"I'm glad things are okay between you and Lauren," Edward muses when we're alone again.

"Me too."

"Is she being serious when she says her New Year's Resolution is to sell her breast milk?"

"Oh, definitely. She's been telling me that since before she got pregnant. Did Tyler tell you that he tried her milk? He put it in his coffee. I wanted to die."

The waiter sets our drinks down, then disappears quickly, and we laugh even harder at what he might've heard.

I take a sip of my cocktail, humming in approval. "Speaking of resolutions, do you have one?"

"Definitely to find a new friend who doesn't drink his wife's breast milk."

I snort a laugh. "Touché."

"What about you?"

"Hm. I don't know." I pause, then, "Not really."

"Not really?"

"It's nothing."

"Come on," he pushes.

"It's not really a resolution. More like… I don't know. Stop being so hard on my mom? Maybe try to see her side of things. And hope in return she does the same for me."

Edward's eyes never leave my face. "I see."

I break eye contact, scanning the area. There's only one other couple in here now, and they're at the bar. The lights are dim, the music is low, reminiscent of our first date. We ended up being the last ones in the restaurant. They closed at midnight, so we eventually had to leave, but I swear we would've stayed all night if they let us. We were both eager to learn about one another, not wanting to break the spell of our connection. It's why he asked me out again the very next night. Because he wanted more time. So did I. And I don't think we'll ever stop wanting more time with each other.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, emboldened by our memories and the tequila.

His face is so open, expectant. "Anything."

"Why did you change your mind? About kids? When we met, we were both so adamant. So what changed?" My words are rushed, and my stomach flutters with nerves. I'm scared for what this conversation will bring, but also anxious to let it finally happen.

His brows raise. "Honestly?"

"Yes."

"You made me change my mind."

"Me?"

The corner of his mouth lifts into a small smirk. "Yeah, you. I just… want to have a family. With you. That part is key for me. If for some insane reason we can't make this work, I'm not gonna go have a kid with someone else. I don't have the desire to do this with anyone else but you."

"That's a lot of pressure," I say quietly.

"It doesn't have to be."

"Raising a kid is a lot of pressure."

"Right. But I think we'd be able to handle it. I mean… look at all of our houseplants. They're thriving."

I roll my eyes, laughing. "Shut up."

"Okay, okay." His laughter fades and he turns serious. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"About a year ago, I was jogging past the cemetery by our house. I've never actually stopped to read any of the tombstones. But there was one that caught my eye. There were two names engraved on it, and underneath it read just the two of us." Edward pauses, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't shake me."

I think back, noting the time frame and when the baby conversation started to pop up. "Is that what started all of this?"

"A little, I guess."

I drain the rest of my drink. "I don't really know what to say."

Edward studies me. "Did hearing that freak you out?"

"I guess I don't understand. You want to have a kid, to spread your seed per se, because you fear mortality?"

"It wasn't just that. I could see everything in that moment. I saw us, together, traveling, being financially secure, drinking coffee in peace every morning. Everything was stable." He stops, smiles. "And then I saw the kids. Everything was messy, loud, a complete wreck. I could see us running late for work, spilled coffee, getting gum out of one kid's hair, while the other's running around wearing two different types of shoes. It was chaos. And it didn't scare me."

My eyes blur with tears, but I force out a small laugh, trying to disguise my emotion. It's ridiculous, but I can partly see it, too. Not as clearly as he can. I don't feel it as deeply. But the image is there.

"The first scenario is our current life," I murmur, swiping under my eye with my thumb. "Is that not fulfilling? You need chaos?"

"That's not what I meant. Please don't be upset."

"I'm not upset. I'm just… my eyes. They leak sometimes."

Edward's laugh is soft. "We can stop talking about this."

I take a deep breath. "It's okay."

He regards me for a second. "The fact that we're able to sit here and talk about this, without either of us getting defensive or upset, is a huge step. I just want us to communicate and be honest with each other."

He's right. It is a huge step. And just another reminder that he's my person.

"This conversation is definitely not over," I say.

"But it's a start."

"I want us to be able to be honest, too. I know nothing's… resolved, but I already feel so much better just talking about it with you." I lean in close, kissing him hard. "I love you," I mumble against his lips. "Even though you compared raising a child to not killing houseplants."

"I love you, too. No matter what," he murmurs, his forehead pressed against mine. "No matter what you decide. I've already decided on you. So that part isn't negotiable."

We finish our drinks, then lazily walk the few blocks home, making it there just before midnight.

The house is dark, quiet. I forgot to set the timers on the lights, so the place feels entirely too empty. The feeling lingers even after the lamps are on, and the fireplace is lit.

"Three minutes to midnight," Edward announces, walking into the kitchen, unbuttoning his shirt along the way. "Should we toast?"

I unzip my boots and curl up on the couch, throwing a blanket over me as I turn on the TV. The ball's minutes away from dropping as I hear the bottle of champagne pop.

Edward reappears, and I lift part of the blanket, making room for him to join me.

"What should we toast to?" he asks, handing me a full glass, eyes twinkling.

I think for a second, then give him a small, hopeful smile. "To chaos."

XXX

The End