[Disclaimer] Everything Twilight belongs to Mrs. Stephenie Meyer

[A/N] This is going to be the sequel for It Won't Rain and I highly recommend reading that one first.

There is no use in explaining how my brain works like. It's just too chaotic but I hope you'll love this plot-bunny down there anyway.

One of my readers has been so nice to nominate It Won't Rain over at twifanfictionrecs com in the Top Ten Completed Fics for August 2012. I feel so very special and honored by that. If you like to you can vote for my little Tranella fic over there.

**1**

„Faster, Mommy! You need to drive faster or the police won't pull us over."

I grip my fingers tighter around the steering wheel, cursing my best friend silently in my head. My three-year-old son found the incident the two of them had last week pretty impressive. Andy loves police-officers, and he is fascinated by the lights and sounds of their cars. Maybe I should buy him a little cruiser. He'd like that.

"You need to go faster! Please, Mommy!"

"Sweetie, Mommy doesn't want to get a ticket. We're almost home anyway."

"Uncle Edward always drives fast when I tell him to. He's more fun than you."

Your Uncle Edward isn't going to spend one minute alone with you in a car in the next time, I think. He drives likes a maniac and when you confront him with the problem, he just laughs about it.

Parking the car in front of the house, I help Andy out of his seat. Then I try to balance the grocery shopping on my left hip while I simultaneously fumble for the keys.

"Mommy is going to cook dinner for us. Do you want to play in your room or do you want to help me?"

"Help," he mutters, climbing on one of the kitchen chairs.

I chop some vegetables for salad and tell him to put everything in a big bowl. Then I let him pour some dressing over it while I stuff the frozen Lasagna into the microwave and pull some plates out of the cupboard above me.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Is Uncle Edward my daddy?"

The plates fall out my trembling hands, breaking into dozens of shards when they make contact with the kitchen floor. I kneel down and pick up one of the pieces, cutting my finger on it so that it starts bleeding. Crap.

"Let me blow." Andy tells me, wrapping his little hands around my wrist. I'm close to crying and it has zero to do with the throbbing pain in my fingertip.

"I'll be right back." I croak, rushing up to the bathroom to put a band-aid on my finger. My mind is racing, fear spreading though me. I hate it so much when Andy starts with the daddy-questions. It makes me feel so awkward and neither Alice nor I have figured out how to explain thing to him.

When I come down again Andy is playing with one of his cars, letting it race between the pieces of broken plates.

"Please, don't play here. Mommy doesn't want you to hurt yourself with the shards."

"Hmm," he mumbles, sticking his thumb between his lips. "Is Uncle Edward my daddy? I need to know."

Kneeling down in front of him, I brush his curly hair out of his forehead and plant a kiss on it.

"No, he's not your daddy."

Andy's eyes widen and the disappointment on his face hurts me so much that for a few moments I'm finding it impossible to breathe. Then I manage to compose myself enough to speak again.

"But your Uncle Edward loves you very much…like he is your real daddy."

"Is my daddy going to visit me?"

I shake my head, turning around so that he can't see the tears in my eyes. Shit, this is exactly what I have been so afraid of all the time. It's the reason why I didn't want to have kids in the first place. Not that I could ever regret having Andy. He's my little prince, our little prince. My fingers touch the gold-framed picture of the three of us that is standing on the counter. Oh Alice, how much I miss you. I miss you so much that I don't have words for it.

My appetite is basically vanished completely when I place the Lasagna on the table. Mechanically I force myself to eat a bit of salad while I shove the Lasagna around on my plate. Andy eats and manages to smear half of his food around his mouth, until his entire chin is covered in red sauce.

Afterwards I help him to get ready for bed and sit down next to him to read him a fairytale. He loves everything that has to do with Pirates and my fingers brush over the ship that Alice has painted on the wall behind his bed.

"Momma will pick me up on Friday. Right?"

"Yes, Andy, she will, but now you need to sleep like a good boy. Okay?"

He rolls on his side, hugging his doll against his chest before I pull his blanket over him. Turning off the light I tiptoe out of his room and walk down to the kitchen.

I don't even bother with a glass when I take the bottle of wine out of the fridge. Greedily I swallow several mouthful of alcohol, feeling it warm my empty stomach and my wounded soul. If I keep going on like that I can join Leon at his AA meetings.

"Alice, come back to me." I whisper into the emptiness of the kitchen. "Please, come back to me, honey."

Sitting down on the cold floor, I wrap my arms around my knees, resting my head on them.

Her face appears in front of me, the tortured expression in her beautiful face when she told me that she wanted us to take a break. A break, she wanted a fucking break, because she and I had been constantly fighting over a million of unimportant nothings during the last months.

I should have fought harder. I should have asked her not to leave, should have told her that a break isn't going to change anything. But I was too stubborn, too thick-headed and as a result of that she has been living at Andrea's place for almost three endless weeks now.

My fingers caress the fragile wedding band on my left ring-finger. I love her. I'll always love her, I think, as I remember the moment when she placed the ring there during the ceremony. I love her and that for I need to find a way back to her.