Chances

I looked at my first birthday present.

This book was made in red leather like a journal. It was soft and I opened to the first page.

The title read "Chances" in gold cursive. In back of that page was this.

My dear little Rose,

Happy seventh birthday! You've grown so much. It seems like just yesterday your mother and I had just saw you and now look at you. I'm so proud of how you've grown. Ive noticed how you always ask questions of what we were thinking and doing during your first months. You remember but you want to know more. Our family has made this book for you to help you understand what happened then, All of us what you to know how much we love and fight for you. Happy birthday.

Love,

Dad

I opened the book and began to read.

Baby,

The first time I saw you, I loved you. You were my perfect little surprise. I know you remember seeing me but I want you to know what truly happened and how mothers love their children.

Happy Birthday, baby.

Mom

Renesmee?

Not the pale and perfect son of my imagination? I felt a moment of shock. And then a flood a warm.

Renesmee.

"Wait."

Wait?

Renesmee?

What was wrong?

I managed to stretch out my arms.

"Two baby girls."