Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters.
A/N: The first couple chapters of this story are in third person but for the most part it will be in first person JPOV or BPOV. Thank you to Claireybeary12 and Lyta7, the betas from ProjectTeamBeta, who checked this over for me, my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)
Late July 2080
Esme released a happy sigh and squeezed Carlisle's hand a little tighter. He reciprocated the gesture and the tingles that always accompanied the touch of his skin intensified just a little, which always gave her a thrill. They had been married for just under 160 years but that feeling hadn't lessened any and she suspected it never would. In fact, it had only grown stronger over the course of their relationship. Carlisle was her rock. He always had been, and forever would be.
Esme honestly couldn't wait to get home. Carlisle had managed to get all of his shifts covered at the hospital for four wonderful days, and the children had taken off on an extended hunting trip. The two of them had had the house to themselves. When school started in the coming weeks, that would be a rarity.
Carlisle had asked if she'd wanted to take a trip but she'd declined. It wasn't that she didn't like going on vacations with her husband, because she did. As long as they were together, it didn't really matter where they were. What she'd wanted more than anything during their escape from "parenthood" was to spend time with Carlisle in their own space doing the everyday things that most parents didn't necessarily feel comfortable doing when their children were in the house. She wasn't ashamed of making love to her husband while Emmett, Rosalie, Edward, Alice, and Jasper were home—Lord knows they weren't shy about doing whatever they wanted no matter who was in the house—but at times she felt as though she couldn't let go with Carlisle in the ways she wanted to when they were around.
She and Carlisle had spent the last four days taking candlelit bubble baths, lying on the roof holding hands and gazing at the stars, watching black and white movies on the floor in front of the television cuddled up on thick piles of blankets and mounds of pillows, walking around the house naked, making love whenever, wherever, and however they'd desired, amongst other things.
It was nearly midnight and they were currently driving home from Port Angeles after an evening of dancing, a customary Pacific Northwest torrential downpour pelting the windows of Carlisle's Mercedes. They only had about five hours before the others were due home and they had every intention of making the most of them. All the desire and anticipation that had been simmering within her for hours lit up her spine and she knew Carlisle was just as eager as she was to get back home. As if he'd read her mind, he stepped on the gas.
Skidding into the driveway, Esme and Carlisle were out of the car and through the front door with vampire speed, their lips fused together, frantic and hungry, but Carlisle soon came to his senses and slowed things down. Their whole evening-holding her hand as they walked along the pier in Port Angeles, the restaurant they hadn't needed to eat at but had gone to just to soak up the romantic atmosphere, the jazz club at which he'd cradled her close to him as they'd danced-had been about romance and showing her how much he loved and cherished her. Carlisle would show her nothing less in their lovemaking now. There would be time for whatever else she wanted later.
Nothing could stop Carlisle from loving his mate as soon as possible, nothing could distract him, the Earth could have split beneath him and he wouldn't have noticed, he was so lost in her eyes. He cupped his love's cheeks, pressed a soft, loving kiss to her lips and whispered, "I love you."
Esme gave him a breathtaking smile, pressed her forehead to his, and placed her hand over where his heart should have beat. "I love you too."
It was then that they heard a squeak in the kitchen, shattering the rapturous moment of love between them. Consequently, that was also when they registered the heartbeat. There was a human in their house.