A/N Ok. Blown away by the reviews. AMAZING. Gold stars and pencil neck texts to all. Can't say enough. Keep em coming?? ALSO huge thanks so whoever nominated us for the indie awards. It's our first nominations and we are pumped. so head over starting the 8th and vote.....please?

This chapter is my all time fav. Let us know if you agree....or not :)

Once again off-the-deep-end has reached new levels of fab as out beta!

***

I wonder if time can actually cease to exist. Like if you ignore it long enough it will just leave you alone and you can actually fester in your own misery. I sit cross legged on the futon my mother insisted on buying and just stare at the phone in my hands. It's been my only clue that time has actually passed. He's been consistent. A text in the morning and one at night. The one at night is always the same and it hurts like new every time. Always. 'Did you miss me?'

The answer is obvious. Everything that makes up what I am cries out for him constantly. Whoever said that time heals didn't know shit and definitely had never had to leave Edward. I should answer. I should text him back the three letter simple truth. But I can't. I just stare at the screen and wait for the next text.

Except there hasn't been one….in…..god damn why isn't there a clock in the yoga retreat? I just know that it has been dark and then light again since the last one and that is not ok.

Those texts were keeping me together. Threading together the empty pieces of my chest. Giving me a sense of hope I didn't deserve. But I thrived on them anyways. And I replied in my own way.

The first couple of days when I pretended to be sane I sent him pictures of things I thought he would like. An ad for an all women's accounting firm, a pair of turquoise chucks and then the seals on the pier. Cause who doesn't like the seals on the pier?

I know they weren't words, but I was hoping he would decode them. That he would see the pictures and what I wanted to say. Which was, I wish you were here with me, so I'll share it with you in the hopes that it will be something close to you being here.

I guess he doesn't have the secret decoder ring for the pictures because he stopped texting. I just stare at my phone not caring that I should move, should shower, should eat. If he texts again I'll fucking get dressed to the nines and eat filet mignon. If.

Footsteps near the door, but only pause for a moment before continuing on. Renee stopped beating on the door and demanding I come out about three texts ago. She even threatened to throw away the few belongings I have in the garage. I called her bluff on that. Those pictures and baby clothes are more for her than me.

I pull my knees to my chest and let my phone fall to the floor. It bounces and comes apart and I don't even bother. There is only one phone call I wanted to get and it obviously isn't coming.

The only plus is that I am out of tears. Out of stock, no rain checks given. I glance around the room and my eyes settle on the locked door and suddenly I feel ill. I've become her.

I stand abruptly and unlock the door. Suddenly Edward's texts all seem a little too much like crying outside the window. The bile build at the base of my throat as I rush around the room throwing on clothes not caring that I haven't showered in days and I don't know what I am wearing. I have to get out of this room.

I burst from the room and stumble down the stairs, bouncing off the railings in my hurry to get out. Vaguely I can hear my mother calling my name behind me as I hit the street running. How could I set out to so something so specific only to fall into that exact hole?

I stumble about four black from home, my flip flops catching the uneven pavement and sending me to my hands. I wince as the still fresh wound opens at the contact. Damn. I clench it into a fist and look around trying to determine where I am. There isn't anything that I really recognize except the lure of a neon sign and the promise of the memory loss that comes with a real thorough night of hitting the bottle. Sounds good to me.

I let the lights pull me in and as soon as I push the door open the stench of alcohol and sweat pulls me in further. I hoist myself up on a stool in the corner of the bar and wait my turn. I'm not sure what the best way to go about this is. It has to be quick and strong none of that pansy ass stuff that I drink for fun.

I have a mission here and I need the big boys for that. I think about calling on Jose or the Captain, but they both have painful ties so I go for the less familiar, less favored friend Smirnoff. I rattle off my order to the bartender and cradle in the shot glass in my hand preparing myself. I press the glass to my lips and pour it back. So it begins.

***

I can't sleep. Every time I lie down and close my eyes, I can't stop thinking about everything that I've lost.

I've been here for days. Bella left me days ago and the only thing I've got to go on are picture texts. Stupid, pointless pictures and not a single fucking word, not a single response that might seem like she cares. I stopped contacting her after she sent me a picture of seals.

She could've at least found some penguins.

And at some point, I have to stop ripping the fucking band-aid off. Self-preservation and all that. When she's ready to deal with what I said and stops acting so fucking illusive with these fucking pictures, she'll know where to find me.

I get out of bed and walk to the kitchen because maybe some food will fill the gaping hole in my chest.

Once I'm all settled on the sofa with a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and a bag of cookies, I turn the TV on. This is what I need. Maybe I can give myself a stomach ache that will deflect the other ache. And the infomercials on right now remind me of home. So maybe this will work.

"You know…" I jump when I hear Alice's voice from behind me. I turn my head and she drags her feet over to the couch and plops down next to me. "They say emotional eating is the worst kind."

She takes my sandwich and takes a bite out of it. "These were always your specialty though," she says with a small groan. "Did you use all of the butter for one sandwich?"

"Half a stick," I reply and snatch the sandwich back. "And I'm not an emotional eater. I was hungry."

She takes a cookie and I grind my teeth. Those were my cookies, my salvation. "I've given you space. I haven't asked any questions."

Here we go. "There's nothing to ask about."

"It's also two in the morning and my tolerance for half-assed excuses is at a zero. So spare me."

I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to the television. I'm sure my dad will have this Jacuzzi gym installed in his bathroom the next time I get home. There's a treadmill on the floor of the Jacuzzi. God, people spend money on some of the most meaningless shit. Then again, I'm filling my holes with Oreo cookies so I can't really fault other people for their habits.

"So let's just lay the facts out," she says, ignoring the fact that I'm trying to ignore her. "You show up here in the middle of the night, crying. You haven't been here in over a year. Not that we don't love having you over, but you have to admit this is kind of random."

"I can't just want to fucking see you guys?"

She holds a hand up and shakes her head at me. "Lie tolerance is zero right now."

"I just wanted to eat a sandwich and some fucking cookies before bed," I grumble at her.

"Furthermore, I haven't heard a single word about Hannah."

"That's because you fucking hate her."

"It never stopped you before," she snaps back. "And your phone has been glued to your hand. So explain."

"There's nothing to explain, Alice," I groan and finish off my sandwich.

She reaches out and pinches the skin on my forearm, twisting it hard. "Ouch! You know I hate that shit!"

She used to do it all the time to me when we were kids because it was the only way she could get what she wanted by physical force. "I told you to stop fucking lying to me."

"I'm not fucking ly—okay!" I snatch my arm out of reach. "God, just stop that."

She grabs for another cookie and stares at me with an eyebrow quirked. "Start talking."

"I broke up with Hannah," is the easiest thing to start with.

"Oh praise the lord!" she shouts, dramatic as ever.

"You're gonna wake Skye up." I roll my eyes and wait for her to stop shimmying against the couch cushion. "Let me know when you're finished."

"Okay, okay, I'm done. Continue."

"I met another girl." I rub my hands over my face and through my hair. How do I even explain this to her? How can I explain Bella?

In typical Alice fashion she squeals and shoves me hard. "How am I just hearing about this?"

"Maybe if you'd pick your fucking phone up and dial once in a while you would have."

"Phones work both ways, dip shit. Stop eating cookies and tell me about her."

I twist an Oreo and eat the creamless part first. "Her name is Bella." I start nibbling on the other half. "I told her that I loved her. She left in the middle of the night and flew to California."

There's no point in laying out all of the mushy details for Alice. She's known me for so long that she can figure everything in between out on her own.

"How long have you been with her?" she asks carefully and hands me another cookie.

"She's got… a few commitment issues because of some shit with her family."

"How long have you been with her?" she repeats.

"A few weeks?" I don't know. I can't fucking think straight to remember numbers and dates right now.

She groans and drops her head back on the couch. "Can I take a guess?" I shrug and nod. "You were shit faced?"

"I wasn't even drunk… maybe a little buzzed."

"And you… what? Fucked her and then, after you shot your load, you professed your love for her?"

I flinch because listening to my little cousin talk about cum is sort of awkward. And because when she says it like that it sounds wrong. "You're making it sound cheap."

She slaps my arm once hard. "You're a fucking moron, Edward."

"I'm the moron?"

"Yeah. You're a fucking class act."

"How is this on me?" I ask incredulously. "I told the fucking woman that I loved her and she ran away from me!"

"Lower your voice," she snaps. "Do you know what I would give if I could get on a plane right now and go find Jazz? I would give anything. And instead your stupid ass is sitting on my couch in the middle of the night eating Oreo cookies and watching fucking infomercials."

I drop my head back on the couch and cover my face with my hands. "I can't do it, Al. I can't lose again."

"You risked it with Hannah."

"It was different," I say quietly. "I never loved Hannah. And I could see myself loving Bella… like really loving her."

"You're stupid," she says harshly and it's then that I notice that she's wiping tears from her cheeks. "So fucking stupid, Edward. Because you don't know what you'll miss if you let it go. You have no fucking clue."

"It will destroy me," I say, trying to make her understand.

"I'm still fucking here, aren't I? I lost Jazz and I'm still fucking here. Because that's what you do. And I wouldn't take any of it back ever. Those were the best years of my life and they gave me Skye."

"I feel like it's me," I say quietly. "Like I'm some sort of horrible omen. I love people and then I ruin them."

And then she slaps me hard on the upside of my head. "I don't know why this is so fucking difficult for you to understand but it wasn't your fault. It had nothing to do with you. It was an accident. The end. Stop doing this to yourself."

I rub my face again because I don't want to cry. I don't deserve to cry in front of Alice after all that I've taken from her.

"You know what Jazz would say to you?"

I lift my hands from my face to look at her.

"He'd tell you to stop being such a mother fucking pussy and to go fight for what you want, for what you love, because sometimes second chances are ripped away from you."

"That's you, Al," I say with a pathetic laugh.

"It's a combination of what we'd both say to you." She stands up and kisses my forehead. "Think about what I said. And go to bed because Skye hates people that sleep in."

"Love you."

***

My head rests on my folded arms and the empty shot glasses in front of me teeter as I try to count them. Too many. Too many to still have thoughts running through my mind. I blink my eyes several times trying to make the glasses hold still. No luck. I reach out trying to grab the only full glass left. I can't help the giggle that slips past my lips as I send several empty glasses flying in my search.

I tip the glass too soon and some of the clear liquid trails down my chin and disappears under my shirt. I squirm as it tickles its way down my chest. The rest of the contents make it safely down my throat and I lean back a little and survey the emptying room. If I squint perfectly I can see a few scattered pool tables and more neon signs, but I couldn't read any if my life depended on it.

Damn vodka. All it's doing is dulling my sight. It was supposed to have a bigger effect on my mind, my memory. But I don't even have to try to see his face in my mind; every time my mind slows he slips in seamlessly.

"Ok little girl, no more for you," the bartender states as he starts to gather my glasses. I whine my protest and grasp for them. Those are my friends. They are keeping my company. He holds his hands up and stops his attempts. That's right. Don't mess with my friends.

"Jussssttt one moooooore?" Good lord I guess I am drunk. I smile what I hope is a charming smile and the bartender just chuckles and shakes his head.

"I should have cut you off a long time ago, but I let you slide cause your such a cute little thing," he states. He throws me a wink and I squint trying to see him clearly. He kinda looks like Santa Clause and damn if Santa hasn't been skipping me the last couple of years. Bastard owes me all kinds of back presents.

"Commee onnn Boooooob the Bartender, just a little?" I hold my fingers just barely apart. I'm almost there, almost to the point where I won't even remember my own name much less his. I clap enthusiastically when he sighs and fills one of my friends slightly.

"Love you Booooob," I slur. I wonder if that's his name. If it's not he should definitely change it. How fucking catchy is Bob the bartender? I slam back the last of my vodka and smile happily. Now I just wait for the fog to roll in. I shift on the stool and almost fall off trying to get the pain in my ass to shift. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone.

I drop it on the counter like it's on fire and stare at it closely. I forgot I brought that. Wait, I didn't bring that. Didn't I leave it on the floor of the yoga retreat? How the hell did it come along? Is it stalking me?

I glare at it for several minutes before picking it up to introduce it to my shot glass friends. My lips feel like they are peeling off and I lick them several times to fix that problem and then I flip the phone open. I blink back at the bright screen and try to focus on the back picture of one of Edward's chucks.

My fingers roam over the keys playing with the combos. I somehow end up in the call log and scroll through the long repetition of Edward's name. I mumble his name every time I pass by a call and then I hit send.

I should be panicked, but instead I press the phone to my ear and wait to hear his voice. Why didn't I do this sooner? Cell phones make things so easy, I could have talked to him, any time, probably even underwater. It rings for a while and I start making up a nonsense song to the rings.

"Yeah? Hello?" His sleep laced voice answers and I immediately drop my phone to the ground.

"Oh no Romeo!" I gasp and then laugh like an idiot because I made a rhyme. I fall to the floor next to the phone and abandon my stool to simply lean against the bar. I press the phone back to me ear.

"Edward? Is that you?" I ask. Because I can't be sure if it is or if the vodka is taking over my brain.

"What? Bella? Is that you?" he asks. Maybe Edward is hanging out with Smirnoff tonight too. He sounds really far away, maybe he's underwater. I press the phone closer to my face wanting to be closer to him. But it kind of hurts so I pull back.

"I'm sorry you didn't like the picture of the seals, but they'd like you and I wanted you to meet them," I inform him. It's true, those seals would have loved Edward, even if all they really seemed to want to do was lay on that rock and get a kick ass tan.

"Bella," he sighs, "Where are you?" I glance around the room again and still have no clue. He doesn't sound underwater anymore; maybe he came up for air.

"I'm hanging out with Smirnoff and Bob the bartender and my shot glass friends. You'd like them they're fucking amazing. Especially Bob. He gave me more when he shouldn't have, but don't tell," I inform him. I don't want to get Bob in trouble. Maybe I should get him a Christmas present. Even Santa needs presents right?

Edward growls a little and it almost sounds like a tiger. I don't like tigers.

"Are you by yourself?" he asks. I roll my eyes. Didn't I just tell him this?

"No, I'm with Bob and Smirnoff and the shot glass band. But, I really wish I were with you," I answer. And then the hole in my chest starts acting up again, being all demanding and needing attention.

"I wish you were with me too. Should I come there? I can be on the next flight out," he says. And I think about Edward with wings, how gorgeous would that be? But then I think about someone shooting him down over somewhere like Wyoming Montana.

"No, I don't want you to get hurt. You just stay where you are and I'll stay here and I'll listen to you breathe and it'll make me feel better," I instruct him. I could probably attach this phone to my hand permanently so I could have him this close always.

"Bella, how are you getting home?" he asks. And I look down at my feet.

"With my feet. I'll put one in front of the other and then try like hell not to fall again. That really hurt," I sigh. I look at my free hand and the blood caked to the palm. It did really hurt. I need a Mr. Bump right about now. Or maybe five.

"You still ok little girl?" Bob asks and I stand shakily to look at him. I grin and show him my bloody hand.

"Ohhhh Bob! You wanna take me home? My Edward wants to know how I'm gonna get home and I don't want to bleed again," I tell him. Bob laughs and hands me a wet cloth. I stare at it before gripping it in my hand. Bad idea, that hurt something fierce.

"Sure little girl. Tell your Edward I'll make sure you get home," he replies and I blow him a sloppy kiss. He really is Santa and I believe. I wonder if that means I'll be back on the nice list again.

"Hear that love love love? Bob is gonna take me home!" I giggle.

"Bella, what the fuck are you doing? Don't take a ride from a fucking stranger. I want you to tell me where you are. I want to come get you," Edward says. I laugh because he can't come get me, his pretty wings will get shot down and then probably hung on someone's wall and Santa isn't a stranger.

"You're too far away and Bob is really Santa so everyone knows him," I correct him. I stare at the wall and smile as a fuzzy image becomes an old valentine decoration.

"Give Bob the phone Bella. Now," Edward says. I happily hold out the phone to Bob who is trying to steal the shot glass band again, but they haven't done their second encore yet.

"My Edward wants to talk to you and I'm sorry but I told him you were really Santa, so he knows your secret," I admit. Bob laughs and shakes his head before taking the phone from my hand. I pull my tiny friends away from Bob and arrange them on the bar like a real old fashioned rock band ala Led Zeppelin. Except there are too many and I run out of members after I assign a tambourine player.

The phone appears in front of my face and I take it back gladly wanting to tell Edward about The Rolling Glasses, the best new band out there.

"Your boy there is very demanding," Bob says and I roll my eyes.

"Doesn't he look like Santa?" I ask Edward.

"Are you ok?" he asks. I immediately look at my hand again. It's bleeding again. It's all red, like the valentine on the wall.

"Will you be my valentine my Edward? Even though I was mean and left without leaving you a kiss? Cause if you will then I think my hand will feel better and then I can go to sleep," I ramble. The words gets slower and I feel my blinks getting longer. I wonder if Bob would let me sleep on the floor. Maybe the elves will make me a bed real quick.

"Can you please remember to call when you get home Bella?" he asks. And I try to remember home. Home isn't here. It isn't in the yoga retreat with Renee. Home is back in the city. Home is in my bed with Edward. At least I think that's what home is.

"You'll be there when I get home love," I tell him. He should know that. I can't go somewhere he is without him knowing. Maybe he is underwater and that's why he doesn't know that.

"I think I'm gonna sleep now. The floor is kind of nice and smells like beer. I like beer. Do you love?" I yawn and sink to the floor slowly.

"No, no, no, Bella, no floor. Will you stand up for me baby? Stand up and sit on a chair, okay?" Edward is talking too fast. Why would I sit on that nasty stool when the floor is so much closer and so much softer?

"You know that I'd pick you first right? Even though I have 23 you're the best one and the only one I can keep," I tell him. It's true. I'll give the other ones away. I already gave them away, like candy.

"Ok little girl, let's get you home," Santa Bob says. He reaches down and puts his hands under my arms and lifts me up. I'm probably light compared to all those toy bags. I lean into him, but keep my phone pressed to my ear.

"Santa Bob is taking me back to the yoga retreat now love. But, you'll be my valentine right? And make my hand better?" I ask. Bob chuckles next to me as he guides us towards the door. I look back at the Rolling Glasses and feel a little bad. I should have given them a standing ovation.

"Whatever you want. Are you coming home soon Bella?" I listen to Edward's words, but I'm trying to figure out why Bob is pulling me towards a Jeep and not a sled. Santa doesn't drive a jeep.

"No Santa Bob, I want the reindeer," I tell him. I let my hand fall and the phone falls with it. I watch as it bounces in the grass and closes. The connection is severed and I want my Edward back, but Bob is pushing me into the car. I reach for Romeo, but Bob grabs him and walks around to the driver's seat.

I sigh and lean my head against the window.

"You gonna tell me where to take you so your boy doesn't go postal on my ass?" Santa Bob asks. I mutter out the address I have been saying since grade one and let my eyes slide closed. I think the vodka brought Edward back to me. Vodka and Santa finally paid me back for all those missed Christmases.

I start humming Jingle Bells and then the car stops. I hear Santa Bob arguing on the phone with someone and then Romeo is pressed against the side of my face again. I smile and clutch at him like a long lost friend.

"Talk your boy down. Crazy ass fool," Santa Bob tells me. He mumbles a little more before getting out of the car. I watch as he walks around. I wonder if Renee would like Santa Bob and then shudder. I would never do that to him.

"Love? Did you feel it when you hit the ground?" I ask him. I think he was talking, but I didn't hear it.

"What? Bella, go inside your house now. Are you home baby? Go inside and get into your bed for me." Edward is so serious and obviously doesn't know where I am. I can't go home. Home is far, far away, along with my bed. All I have here is Renee's house and my futon. Bob opens my door and I fall out.

"Say goodnight to Bob and go inside Bella. Now." I salute my invisible commander and turn to Santa Bob.

"Night Bob. Say hello to Vixen for me," I tell him. I stand up on my tiptoes and only falter for a second as I press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. He laughs and walks around his car again. I brace the railing and walk towards the door.

"I want my bed Edward," I whine. I want to sit on the step, but Edward said I have to go in.

"You're almost there. Are you inside yet?" he asks. I look up the steps that look like a mountain to the door. The lights inside call my name. Wait, why are the lights on?

"No, there's a mountain and the lights are on," I answer. I pull on the railing again and take on the mountain. Just before I can pull on the doorknob, it opens like magic. I do believe in Santa. That is until I see Renee.

"Are you coming home soon Bella?" he asks. I think he asked me that before or maybe the Rolling Glasses did. I can't be sure. I step around my glaring mother and into the house. There. I did what he told me.

"Home will wait for me love. Renee is going to burn me alive with her eyes. Keep my side warm?" I ask. And then the phone is taken from my hand, shut and tossed on one of the ridiculously overstuffed couches in the room.

"You are going to go to the kitchen. Drink enough Coffee to power a small college campus and then we are going to talk young lady," Renee states. There is a new commander in town. I miss the other one.

***

I groan when forty pounds of pure energy land on my chest. There's a fucking wake up call. And I just fucking got to sleep too. It took me forever to calm down enough to pass out after Bella's phone calls.

"What is this?" I ask, opening up my eyes to look up into Skye's laughing ones. "Huh?"

She giggles and pats both of my cheeks. Her dark hair is a complete mess and a complete contrast to her pale skin and blue eyes. She is the embodiment of her parents down to her little fingers.

"It's time to wake up," she sings and leans down to kiss me.

"Says who?" I wrap my hands around her waist to keep her from falling off of me. It must be nice to wake up like this every day, with a happy, innocent little kid who just loves you.

"Says me!" She giggles and puts her hands down on my shoulders. "I wanna play wif you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! And mama said you wanna tell me a story about a pretty girl named Bella."

Fucking Alice. I'm going to fucking kill her.

"Is Bella better than Cruella?" she asks curiously and I groan. After Skye watched 101 Dalmatians for the first time, she took to calling Hannah Cruella. And it obviously stuck because her immature mother encouraged it.

"I wanna tell you a different story." She tilts her head and looks at me curiously. "It's a story about this pretty little girl named Skye." Her smile lights up her entire face because she's Alice's daughter.

"My Prince has to be named Edward," she informs me and I feel my heart squeeze.

"Well, this isn't a story about her Prince. This is a story about what happened to little Skye when she woke her Uncle up."

Her eyes widen and she tries to squirm out of my grasp. "No, no, stay here. I want you to hear this."

"But mama made pancakes," she says. "Your favorite kind! So I had to wake you up!"

"It doesn't matter. Pretty little Skye got punished for waking her uncle up."

Her eyes widen. "What did he do? She was just trying to be nice!"

"He…" and then I start tickling her. Peels of high pitched kid laughing went directly into my ear and from there, to my heart. She squirmed and laughed until tears were sliding down her cheek. "Did pretty little Skye ever do that again?" I ask when she stops laughing.

She looks up at me and nods. Huh. I guess I'm fated to be surrounded by stubborn women who do whatever they want for the rest of my life.

"Really?"

"Yes, Edward," she says and rolls her eyes as if I'm a huge idiot. "Because Skye loves her Uncle."

I pull her down and hug her to my chest. "I love you, kid."

"I love you too. Can we go have pancakes now? Mama put M&Ms in them again because you're here."

"All you think about is food."

"No," she says and rests her cheek against my chest. "I think about a lot of things."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Like I think about my fish George who is in heaven with daddy," she says. "And I think about that time mama spilled juice on Cruella. Because that makes me laugh." I close my eyes and shake my head. "And I think about you cause I love you and miss you."

"I think about you too. How about we make a deal?"

"Can we make the deal while we eat pancakes?"

I laugh and lean down to kiss her cheek. "Go ahead I'll be right there."

I go into the bathroom and I'm surprised that Skye didn't run from me screaming when I opened my eyes to greet her. They're bloodshot from not sleeping and some crying and the circles beneath them are so dark they look fake. Like maybe I drew them on and colored them in myself.

I don't want to think about Bella's phone call last night right now. She was drunk and incoherent and I almost had a panic attack when she said she was getting a ride home from someone she dubbed Santa Claus. Dudes that look like Santa Claus always make me uneasy.

I look at my phone but I haven't missed any calls or texts since the last one last night. I got hung up on twice. And why is it that she can't fucking contact me when she's sober? Why is she only okay enough to call me when she's 25 shots of Smirnoff deep?

I bang out a quick text message asking her what happened to her hand. Not that I'm expecting a response but she kept going on about it last night and I was too distracted worrying about her not dying to ask.

I think I'm gonna head back into the city later. I've ignored my life enough at this point and I need to get back to work at some point before I lose my job.

"Oh, are those mine?" I ask and grab Skye's plate from in front of her. "These look delicious."

"Edward!" She tries to grab for the plate but I hold it out of reach. "Those are mine! Mama made more for you."

"But I want these ones."

"But those ones are mine," she tries again. "You can have the ones over there."

"I want these though. I thought you love me."

She huffs and blows a raspberry in frustration. "I do love you. But I love my pancakes too. You can have a bite and then go get your own."

I laugh and put the plate down and kiss her head. "I'm just joking, kid. Hey, Al." I walk over to wear she's standing by the island reading the paper and pinch her arm hard. "You know who Skye asked me about?"

She blinks and feigns innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let go of my arm."

"Just remember," I say with a nod and walk over to the pancakes, "payback sucks."

"Mama, Edward is gonna make a deal with me. I love deals."

"What's the deal?" Alice asks and watches me with disgust as I pour syrup onto a pancake, fold it in half, and then bite into it. "You're such a pig. We have plates."

"No need," I say through a full mouth. "Anyway, the deal is once a month I come here to see my favorite girl… girls. And once a month you guys have to come home and visit me."

Alice's eyes narrow at me and she shakes her head. "You can come here. We're not coming there."

"Mama!" Skye shouts. "I like the deal."

"No," she says, her eyes never leaving mine.

"What happened to letting go?" I ask her quietly, because Alice has only been back home twice since Jasper died. "She deserves to see her family. All of her family."

"Fuck you, Edward."

"Just think about it," I say and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

She swipes at her eyes and turns her face towards my chest because she never lets Skye see her cry. "Skye, did Edward tell you about Bella?" I groan and pinch her side. "Maybe when we come home you can meet her, Skye."

"Oh, yes! She's not like Cruella, right? She's better?"

I hear Alice giggling against my chest and I shake my head. "Yes, she's better. It depends on if she's busy or not," I tell her.

"She doesn't wanna meet me?" And I can hear the wavering that Skye has already managed to master at 4 years old. I don't have to look to know that her eyes are wide and her bottom lip is jutted out and trembling.

I sigh. "Of course she wants to meet you. Wanna go watch Dora?"

"Yes! Are you gonna watch with me?" she asks.

"Duh. Go start it up I'll be right there."

When she runs out of the room I look down at Alice who's still wiping the remnants of tears from her cheeks. "She sees her family," she says indignantly.

"Not enough." I wrap my arms around her and pull her to my chest. "I know it's hard."

"You never go home either!"

"I know. But if you're there, I'll be there, okay?"

"Fine," she says and wipes the rest of her tears off on my shirt.

"Why don't you go out or something? Take the day. I'll watch Skye."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Al, go."

"What are you doing about Bella?" she asks me.

"I'm gonna go home tonight," I say with a small shrug, not willing to talk about the phone call last night. "And I'm gonna wait for her."

***

My mother shoves another cup of coffee at me and I groan and then lean over the sink to vomit. Fantastic. Mocha flavored puke. Great at 6 in the morning. I groan and turn on the faucet rinsing my mouth out several times before resting my forehead against the cool ceramic of the sink.

"You ready to talk yet?" my mother asks and I glare at her as I take the coffee cup and take a slow sip. She is ruining coffee for me for life. I swear if she starts shoving sour patches down my throat next I am going boycott her position as my mother.

"I don't know what else to do Isabella. This is not you. You're not that person. What happened to you?" she pleads. Hearing her say those words pisses me off. I hate when she talks like this. Like she knows who I am. Like she spent as much time on me as she did on her constant stream of men in her life. I grit my teeth and take another sip of coffee even though most of my Smirnoff is now washed down the sink.

I raise my free hand to my eyes and rub hard. It hurts like hell, but obviously I am not allowed to sleep. I stagger backwards out of exhaustion rather than alcohol and land unceremoniously in a kitchen chair. The only time I am actually thankful for these god awful cushions.

"And who am I, mother?" I ask. I raise an eyebrow and wait for her answer. This should be interesting. She sighs and sits carefully in the chair across from me. Her eyes stay on the tablecloth rather than me. I lean forward and wait.

"You're not me," she whispers and I almost fall out of my fucking chair. I lean back and her words swim in my mind, circling over and over. Isn't that what this was all about? I take a few heavy breaths. Suddenly all the coffee catches up with my empty stomach. I lean forward and cradle my head in my hands.

"Isabella, I think there is something I need to tell you," she continues, but I can't move. I'm holding on to her words with every ounce of strength I have, which isn't much at this point. She knows. She knows what I've been trying to do. I'm not her.

"Your father, Isabella…." Her voice cracks and so does her perfect posture and demeanor. The urge to reach to her is there, but not stronger enough to move my hand from my head.

"My father what?" I demand. The elusive Charlie who donated his sperm and little more to what would become me. His name has been taboo in my life. Not that I am complaining. I never felt that loss. How can you miss someone who never existed in your mind? Renee takes a deep breath and straightens her back.

"When your father and I met I was so smitten. He was everything I was told not to want, but I couldn't help myself. I let him pull me in and I let myself go. When we found out about you it seemed perfect to me. A fairy tale. A baby with the love of my life," Renee breathes. I am leaning towards her enthralled. This is the closest thing to a bed time story I have ever gotten and coupled with the information about my father it's the best fucking story I've ever heard.

"But he had plans. He wanted to enter the army. See the world, fight the forces of evil and I would have followed him. I would have gone anywhere, but he didn't let me try. I woke up one morning, throwing up and he was gone. He left a copy of his reporting orders and that was it." Renee finally meets my eyes and I feel like a child who has just been told Santa isn't real. Suddenly last night blares through my mind, but I push it aside. Not now.

"And, Renee? What does that have to do with me?" I ask because I am selfish like that and even though this is the most vulnerable I have ever seen my mother I still can't find those feelings of adoration and sympathy. Love, sure, but the kind of love you feel for an oak tree you've had in your backyard all your life.

"So that's why. The answer to the question you've asked me silently your entire life. Why I am the way I am with men. I leave them before they can leave me," she states. Her eyes are sad, but her words are too the point, direct. My mouth opens and shuts several times. It can't be that simple. There's more. There has to be.

"Seriously? You've hurt that many men just to protect yourself? How can you possible think that's right?" I demand. The throbbing on my head playing a low second to this moment.

"I never said it was logical or the right thing Isabella. But it's the reason," she answers coolly. I remove my hands from my head to let them clench into fists. I gave her more credit than that. I thought it was something so much more complex, hell I thought it was something that she could have passed onto me genetically it was so damned complex.

"Do you have any idea what your defense mechanism has done to me? To Edward?" I choke out the last words because his name was never supposed to come up. She wasn't supposed to know about him. Her eyes slide closed in what looks like relief. And I'm pissed about that to. She shouldn't even think his name.

"So that's his name," she sighs. My breathing speeds up and I rush to the sink again, emptying my stomach and I heave long after everything has exited. I pull on the faucet and stick my face under the stream of water. I feel a hand rub over my back, but I pull away harshly.

"I know that look Isabella. I had it once and lived it over and over again. Why did you leave him?" she asks softly. It should be unintruding, but I feel like she's trying to pry open my darkest corners and inspect them. She reaches for me again, but I bristle away from her touch.

"I didn't want to be you. All my life it's all I wanted. I never dreamt of being a ballerina, or a movie star or even a fucking doctor. I just wanted to not be you," I hiss. She doesn't flinch at my words.

"You never were. I was always in awe of you. This person I helped create, but was lifetimes ahead of me. So smart and confident. It's all I wanted for you too. For you not to be me," she whispers.

I shake my head as the previously dormant tears prick my eyes. I use my sleeve to wipe them away harshly. Who is this woman? Where was she when I was going through puberty or hell any other significant moment of my life?

"This is bullshit Renee. Why the hell did you wait all this time to tell me this?" I demand. She braces herself on the counter and takes a deep breath.

"Because this is the first time I really worried that I had failed you. That the one thing I wanted for you hadn't happened. So I'm going to try to fix it. Get out of this house Isabella," she commands. I fall back a little with the force of her words. She's telling me to leave, but I don't know if I can.

"It's too late. All your noble efforts didn't work Renee. I'm broken. I can't go back because I can't give him what he needs. You gave your love to everyone but me and now I don't know how to give it. The most fundamental of things and I don't even know how," I laugh bitterly. She pushes forward and right into my face.

"That is the real bullshit Isabella," she sneers and I balk. I've never heard my mother swear, ever. She places her hands on either side of my face and immediately think of Emmett and his efforts days ago. The tears pour down my face, but I don't care.

"I've seen you with the people you love. I've seen they way you take care of and love your friends. Don't pretend you don't know how. You KNOW how. I didn't teach you, but you know," she insists. I swallow and put my arms around her. My palms burn in protest as I clutch her, but I don't care.

"He needs better than me," I protest. She shakes her head and grits her teeth.

"Don't decide what he needs. Don't write him off. Keep being what you want to be, keep not being me Isabella. It's easy all you have to do is fight," she presses. I lean my forehead against hers.

"I didn't fight. I could have tracked Charlie down and forced him to listen, forced him to feel my love, but I ran. I came home where it was safe. So don't be me. Fight," she states. And I nod against her. I can do this. I can fight. Maybe not in the literal sense, but I would take someone down for Edward. I would. I will.

***

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