Hi! So… there were over 60 000 people at Bon Jovi's concert. And it was GREAT! And so was the last scene of Sunday's episode of True Blood! OMG! OMG! OMG! My only problem with that was the part when Alan Ball cut the scene to… Bill! Seriously? WTF? I've been waiting for that scene since 2008. And he takes away Sookie and Eric's moment and cuts to Bill, right in the middle of it? Arght!

Anyway, here's chapter 41, a Sookie's POV. Now, I've received as many reviews saying that Sookie should forgive Eric (because he was honest with her, telling her about kissing Natércia, and all) as those who'd prefer that she left for a while (so he could really think about his behavior). And, to be "political", I'll try to meet/write somewhere in the middle. So, just trust me, okay? And, as usual, I must say a public "thank you" for Charhamblin's help betaing this chapter. She rocks! And you guys rock too! Thank you for reading! I hope you'll enjoy the chapter. Kisses and hugs from Portugal! Célia

Sookie "Better Think Twice"

When Eric left our home with his "oldest friend" just after I met her I wasn't sure if we would survive "Hurricane Natércia". I was feeling insecure and sad and it took me more than a couple of hours to fall asleep, but, eventually, I cried myself into a restless slumber.

I kept thinking and remembering Eric's words and behavior with Natércia and I just felt insecure about what we had built over the two previous years. Would Eric leave me? Everything had been going so smoothly between us… I had thought that we were happy together, and with Liz. But, at that moment, I started questioning everything.

Yes, it had taken Eric a whole year after I had moved back to Louisiana for him to tell me that he loved me, but ever since that first "I love you", he had told me his feelings about me so many more times… And I had thought that we were the real thing. And even though he was, well… incredibly good-looking, attractive, and confident, as well as a powerful businessman and vampire, with dozens of pretty, young girls jumping for a chance to be with him (and sometimes even actually jumping at him), I had never felt insecure about our relationship since I had come back to Louisiana. Not once. Even when I was hearing thoughts and fantasies of twenty-something girls concerning Eric (and some of those thoughts and fantasies were extremely graphic and explicit), I hadn't felt insecure about us. Until that night when I met Natércia, that is. In fact, until then, Eric had always made me feel that I was the only woman in the world for him. But, all of a sudden, there was someone else.

But we were hit by "Hurricane Natércia" and, out of the blue, I started being afraid that Eric and I wouldn't be together for long. And I worried about the trail of destruction that that particular hurricane would leave in our relationship.

Okay, granted, he had tried to kiss me when he left, and he didn't sound as if he'd leave with Natércia on a white-horse riding… well… not into the sunset, but rather just after the sunset. But he had put his hand on her knee. And he had looked so completely at ease with Natércia… And she had had looked like his companion, as he had called her. Actually, she had looked like his perfect companion. Add that to Pam's words telling me that Eric had left her for Natércia. Eric had left Pam,his vampire child, with whom he had just spent three decades together. Yes, everyone could condone my fear.

And then I just wondered, over and over again, if it was the fact that I had kept sleeping mainly during the night, or if it was the lack of a blood-bond that was making Eric behave that way. Would Eric stay with me if I had bonded with him again and if I had started accepting our marriage? But, then again, did I want to be with a man who'd be willing to leave me because I didn't agree with him? And what about Liz? If Eric left me, would he still want to be Lizzie's dad? Would I want him to?

Yes, all those thoughts and insecurities towards Eric really messed with my head and only after a couple of hours crying about it after he and his friend left our home, was I able to fall asleep.

But then, later that night, I was awakened by him. And Eric had come back with shredded and bloodied clothes. I immediately imagined him and Natércia in an orgy of sorts with four or five fangbangers. I could clearly picture Natércia tearing Eric's shirt apart while he did the same to her clothes, so they could have some kind of amazing and primal vampire-sex, full of vampire-stamina. And then they would bite and drink humans together and after that they'd just laugh when they talked about "Eric's silly human and her child". And so, for a minute there, I just thought that Eric had drove home only to tell me to pack my things and leave his house immediately.

But, thank God, he instead told me he had engaged in a fight with Natércia because he hadn't had sex with her. However, no matter my happiness that he had come back home to me, and that he apparently still wanted me, I kept feeling scared and with doubts about our relationship and I just couldn't comprehend what he was saying to me. I couldn't grasp the idea that Natércia had met me and Liz (the woman who had been living with Eric for the last two years and the child that called him dad), and just a few hours after meeting us, she had tried to have sex with him. But Eric was telling me that she had. She had actually tried to have sex with Eric, knowing that he had someone else. And she had tried to do it, because she was expecting it. And why? Because regardless of the people that either of them might be dating, they were expected to have sex. Because they always did. And so, even though Natércia had met me, she had still expected Eric to, well, being blunt about it, just… fuck her.

So, yes, you could say that I really didn't understand it. The whole "she's my friend and we have sex whenever we meet" concept really wasn't clear to me. Not at all. Yes, there were "fuck buddies" and other designations like that. And I understood that concept. But those people couldn't be friends. They just couldn't. They were just people who meet to… well, have sex. But if you were friends with somebody, really friends, then you didn't have sex with that person, because it would risk the friendship; and real friends weren't willing to jeopardize their friendship just for an orgasm. In my mind, you could either be just friends, or you were boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife… whatever. You couldn't be both!

And, like I said before, even with Eric there, on our bed, I was still kind of scared that he would choose her over me. He had said that he hadn't had sex with her that night. But would he sleep with her tomorrow night? Or the night after? Pam's story of how Eric had ended their 30-year long sexual relationship because of Natércia had frightened me to my core. So, yeah, I was still pretty scared of being abandoned.

And there was also the fact that he and Natércia had been a couple on again and off again for so many years. For so many centuries, actually. God! Centuries! How could I ever compete with such a long history between them? We had only been a couple for a little over two years. What was that in Eric's long life? And besides, Natércia was a vampire. For one, she understood his needs and feelings regarding his… well, vampire persona. And secondly, she would always be the young beautiful woman she was, whereas I was just a human. Yes, I was getting older, albeit slightly slower than a regular human; but I already looked quite older than Natércia (she looked like she was on her early twenties). Besides, they had had a huge history together and they were the same in many ways. And so, yes, I still feared that Eric would… well, dump me. Why? Because I was also almost sure that he would choose his friend over me. I guess that Bill's Lorena-affair and David's Ashley-affair would always sink my self-esteem, no matter how much I tried to forget those episodes.

But then, Eric told me that not only had he not had sex with her, but also that he wouldn't be leaving me for his friend. Like: never. And, just for the record, I might have asked him to repeat it several times. But when I finally believed him… Jesus! You won't believe the relief I felt. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. And I felt incredibly thankful that I wouldn't be abandoned by Eric. He was still mine, just as I was his. He wasn't leaving! He was staying there with me and I wouldn't suffer from his departure because he wouldn't cheat on me.

Until he told me that he had kissed her. Twice.

Flashes of Bill's face when Eric made him tell me that he had originally made my acquaintance because his Queen had ordered him to do it appeared before my eyes, while I heard in my mind David's voice and his words telling me that he had a son from another woman.

I wanted to scream, and cry and just get the hell out of there, because of what Eric had done. I had left more than a decade before exactly because of that. Even then, I had felt that Eric was my true love. And that had been the reason why I had run away from him on the first place. Bill had hurt me before, but I had been able to recover from that because it had only been a little more than a crush. However, I had also been sure that if Eric ever broke my heart that way, I simply would not pull through. So I had left because I loved him too much and there lied the problem and what scared me. Yes, I had moved to Tennessee because I had been sure that I wouldn't be enough for Eric. I had feared that I would only be his "flavor of the week" and that I would be exchanged for someone else. And that would have just killed me. And so I had left my family, my friends and my job because I had been sure that I would not recuperate from a broken-heart caused by Eric.

And apparently, I had been right. Because there he was, Eric, telling me that he had kissed another woman. I almost felt like I wanted to die.

But then, in less than a second, I realized that yes, he had cheated on me (a kiss did constitute cheating in my book), but he had also told me about it. He hadn't lied. Instead, Eric had come forward and told me about it while I looked at his full-of-regret blue eyes. I saw the dark-blue rim and I saw the even mix of pale blue and white rays in the iris of his eyes. And I saw that he truly was sorry for what he had done, and I just knew that he really wished that he could take it back.

And then I remembered how I had left him a decade before, and Pam's words about how hard it had been for Eric. And there was also the fact that he had gone to me, to help me, while I was married to another man in Tennessee. Twice. Besides, I truly believed that Eric regretted the kiss (or kisses, I guess). And even though I was still very sad about the whole thing, Eric's words telling me about how guilty he felt and his sorrow-eyes almost convinced me that I should give him another chance. But the operative word there is almost. Eric almost convinced me that I should give him another chance. But… I just… I couldn't. At least, not yet. And so, I didn't utter a single word about forgiving him or not.

Instead, I asked him to sleep in the basement room that night. Because, let's be honest, even if I was to just forgive him, would I ever be able to trust him again? And that was the main question. Would I be able to trust him once more?

And after I asked him to leave, he just… he left.

And you know something? The fact that he left that easily hurt me almost as much as knowing that he had kissed another woman. Because it was as if I wasn't worthy of his fight… I had wanted for him to insist, to make me forgive him. I wanted Eric to scream that he wouldn't leave because he loved me; I wanted him to yell that I was his and that I would always be his; and I wanted him to say that we would stay together forever and that our relationship was too strong and that we would survive this problem as well. Yes, I know, I know… I had never enjoyed possessive-Eric before, but at that moment he was exactly what I needed. But instead, Eric just got up and left the bedroom. And there I stayed, crying alone for another two hours until it was time to wake Liz up.

As soon as I drove Liz to her school, I then called Bobby Burnham and I told him that I wouldn't be going to Fangtasia that morning because I had personal things to attend to. I also told him that if he needed me, I would have my cell-phone with me at all times. Bubby mumbled something about how we had agreed to both meet a new potential franchiser, but I just couldn't care about anything of that. I told him to meet the guy just by himself, and to try to schedule a new meeting with me for the following week. And when I ended the call, I wondered if I would still be helping Eric with the bars next week, or not. And then I went back home.

And after I parked at home and went inside, I had a mini-psychotic episode, and I pulled an "Amelia Broadway", by cleaning the whole upstairs floor with extra detail and care until it was a little past midday. And during that whole time, I kept thinking about Eric and about our last two and a half years together. And those thoughts kept telling me that I needed to just forgive him. But then, in one second, I could almost hear again David's words about Ashley, the young were-bear that he had been dating while he was still married to me, and I was sure that I didn't want to go though that ever again. And Eric had cheated on me. A kiss was still cheating and I was wondering if I would ever be able to trust Eric… ever again.

I was still completely undecided and confused about everything, and about what I should do. And so, I pondered if I should talk to someone about it. And for some reason, I immediately thought of Niall and Claudine. But the portals had been closed for a few years, and I knew that there was no way that I would ever be able to get in touch with them, so I discarded that option. And then I thought about Amelia. She was still a close friend. But she wasn't as close as she had once been. And besides, she was still in New Orleans, and I didn't want to talk about Eric cheating on me by phone. And, let's not forget, Amelia was never an Eric's fan, so she would probably just tell me that I should just leave him and get over with it. And I really needed to hear honest advice, not an already defined opinion. And so, for the same reason, Pam, wasn't an option either because she was Eric's child and would always take his side of things. Besides, she was dead at the moment. And that left Tara and Sam. But neither of them were vampire fans either; and they both had such good relationships with their spouses, that I really thought that they wouldn't be able to help me. And, of course, there was Jason. But I wouldn't ask advice from a guy who was on his fourth marriage.

So, I kept cleaning. And I cleaned the whole downstairs floor until a little after 2 pm, when I stopped to make a grilled-cheese sandwich. And soon as I was done eating, I just decided that I had to keep cleaning, and so I went down one more floor, to Eric's day room.

I opened the door, and I entered his pre-chamber. I immediately closed the door and a light automatically switched on then. I turned the alarm off, and then I finally entered Eric's room. He was, obviously, laying there on his bed. And it took me only one look at him before I decided that I would pack a few days of clothes for me and Liz and that we would both just leave.

And why? Because, well… Eric was there, obviously, lying on the bed. And he was, as expected, dead to the world. But my problem wasn't with Eric. It was with the bed sheets around him. The white bed sheets around him, which were still pretty much white. I mean, he hadn't cried for our relationship. And he hadn't even stayed awake into the day (causing him bleedings) because of us. Yes, I knew. He was Eric Northman. He wouldn't be a "crying baby" and weep over me. And I didn't want that either. I just want a little sensibility. I wanted a reaction. And if he wouldn't cry, I wished that he had instead, at least, broken something in anger. Or that his bed sheets showed me that he had tossed and turned on his bed, just because he was missing my body next to him. Hell, I had cried myself to sleep on the previous night. And I had stayed in bed for a couple of hours that same morning, also crying all the tears that I still had in me. Whereas Eric had only laid down and slept. Or died. Or… Whatever! The point was that he hadn't reacted at all. Was it too much to ask that he would be sad because I hadn't forgiven him on the previous night? Or angry with himself because of what he had done? Was it? Was it?

I immediately left his room, I closed its locks and I turned on the alarm again and then I went to Lizzie's room and I packed clothes for three days, and a few other important objects for Liz. And then I went to my own bedroom and I did the same for me, before I packed the toothbrushes, shampoos and other such items. I wasn't sure yet where we would be staying, but I was sure that I didn't want to stay there. With him.

I could obviously go back to Bon Temps… My family and my best friends lived there. But it was a week-night and Liz had to go to school on the next day. And her school, as well as her ballet and swimming classes, were in Shreveport, obviously. And I wanted to maintain Lizzie's schedules and "normal life" as much as I could. So I decided that we would both stay at a close by hotel, and just spend the night there. Tomorrow would be another day, and I would decide what to do and where I would be then, like Scarlett O'Hara. Because, at that moment, the only two things I knew was that I wanted peace and that I didn't want to be close to Eric.

And so, as soon as it was 4pm, I went and I picked Liz from her ballet lesson (the school had a van and they drove the kids to their after-school activities). But then, when Liz got inside the car and she buckled up the seatbelt around her car seat, I just couldn't make myself start the car.

"Mom! Mom!" Liz started calling me from the back seat, "I've buckled up already. Mom?"

I then turned around so I could look at her, and I told her that I wanted to take her to some place special for the evening, and I asked her where she wanted to go. And she immediately said that she wanted to go to the mall so we could eat ice cream and then go to the hairdresser. Lizzie had always loved to have her hair done and paint her nails, and she even had a phase when she wanted to be a hairdresser when she grew up (it was after the "lawyer" phase, and before the "veterinarian" phase; recently, she wanted to be a singer besides being a vet, even though she couldn't carry a tune any better than I could). And so, I gladly told her that we could do that.

As soon as we got to the mall, our first stop was, as per Liz's instructions, the ice-cream shop. And, quite strangely for Liz, I let her chose a big chocolate sundae, instead of a smaller fruit ice-cream (sometimes I even had her choose frozen yogurt instead of ice-cream). And why did I let her choose that big dessert? Well, there was a quite obvious reason for that. I was about to tell her that we wouldn't be going home for, at least, a few days, and I just wanted to soften the blow of that news.

And I tried, I swear that I tried. But no matter how big Lizzie's ice-cream was I couldn't make myself tell her that Eric and I might separate. Helen, Lizzie's best friend at school, had recently gone through her parent's divorce. And I knew that Liz would understand immediately the truth behind the "we're not going home tonight". And so, I decided that I would do it, over pizza, and after the hairdresser. Okay… Call me chicken if you must. And I… Well, I admit it. I've never enjoyed dealing with the bad stuff in my personal life. I had, after all, grown up with the knowledge that I was different from everyone else, but that I should never talk about it with anyone. And I guess that created in me some kind of don't-talk-about-important-personal-stuff syndrome. But, damn it! My own mother had been kind of scared of me. And even though Gran had never been afraid of me, she had been afraid for me. And she had told me over and over again that I should never speak to people about my problem, or twist, or curse, or whatever you want to call my telepathy. And so, as Pam had once said a couple of months after I moved back to Louisiana with Eric, I had become an "avoider" (Pam had called me that when we were talking about the time when I had run away to Tennessee).

But "avoider" or not, I would talk to Liz that day. I would only avoid Eric. But I wouldn't run away from my own daughter. I was just… postponing it for a few more hours.

And so, we did go to the hairdresser, and we stayed there for a little over than two hours, getting our hair and nails done. And after that, we did go to a pizzeria that was one of Lizzie's favorites. We were already on our dessert (again, I allowed Liz a piece of chocolate cake, which she was supposed to share with me, even though I didn't have the stomach to eat anything), when Liz, even without knowing, started the conversation that I had been delaying (and dreading) the whole afternoon.

"Is dad meeting us here now?" She asked, all of a sudden.

"Why do you ask that?" I said immediately.

Did she know what had happened on the previous night? Had she listened to my mind? Could Liz hear people's thoughts? Liz had never showed any telepathic gifts or whatever you wanted to call it. But what if she started now? Or, instead, had she just heard, in the normal way, Eric telling me about Natércia? Had she heard him telling me that he had kissed another woman? Had she seen me crying after I had asked Eric to leave the bedroom? Would I traumatize my daughter somehow? Unfortunately, on those days, there were way too many children with divorced parents. But Liz had already lost David. I didn't want for her to have to mourn Eric's absence as well. Would that harm Liz somehow? Should I take her to a psychologist, perhaps? Or even a psychiatrist? Would Liz need to take prescription medicines? Would she be depressed? Oh God!

"Because it's night already," she easily answered me. Okay. She had only asked because it was night. And it made sense. Night was Eric's time and it was completely normal that she would ask about him because it was night. But I hadn't even thought about that simple explanation. Instead, I was already picturing the worst case scenario, with either mind-reading or anti-depression drugs! Jesus! What was wrong with me?

But anyway, her answer made me look at the big windows in the mall, and realize that Liz was right. It was already night time.

"No, sweetheart, he isn't," I answered my daughter while I went to pick my cell-phone from my purse. And there was no missing phone call from Eric, and not even a single text message from him. I pondered if I should call him, but I discarded that option. Eric had been the one at fault here, and I wouldn't make it easy for him.

"Okay," Liz replied me and continued eating her chocolate cake.

"Listen, baby, mom needs to talk to you about a serious matter. A grown-up's serious matter," I told her. Liz moved her eyes form the cake to me and kind of nodded for me to continue. I then took a deep breath. It was time to tell my daughter that we wouldn't be going home that night. "What I wanted to tell you is that… Well…. We're not going home after we leave here."

"Why? Where are we going?" she asked immediately.

"Because… Well, you remember how you were angry with that tall boy in your class, what's his name? Richard? The one who broke the clay bowl you had made that day?"

"Huh-uh," she mumbled while moving her head, telling me that she remembered.

"Well, mom is sort of angry with dad and so…"

"Did he break something?" she asked interrupting me.

My heart.

I sighed and then I said, "Dad did other grown-up things and I'm kind of mad at him."

"Oh," she answered looking with a serious face at me. I guess that she was expecting that I would continue my explanation about what Eric had done. But in the meantime, I just stood there, glancing back at her, while I hoped that she'd make the leap from "mom is angry with dad" to "we won't be going back home soon". However, when my 7-year-old daughter, quite expectably, didn't realize what I really meant with all that talk, I decided to just tell her everything.

"So, what I meant was that…just as you didn't want to sit next to Richard anymore… Well… mom doesn't want to be close to dad right now," I finally said.

"Oh… I see," she said. She did? She looked okay with everything, and I was already hoping that maybe Helen's parents' divorce would make things easier for Liz to understand when her next words told me that she hadn't quite really understood my meaning, "That's why you didn't invite dad to come to the mall with us, right mom?" she asked smiling at me.

"Yeah… sort of. But that's not only just it. I mean, yes, that's why I didn't invite dad to come to the mall with us. But there's something else besides that. Actually, we won't be going ho…"

"Has he already, mom?" Liz asked, interrupting me again. And, in normal circumstances, I would be firm with her that she shouldn't interrupt anyone, especially adults and namely me. Recently Liz had developed the custom of interrupting everyone and I had talked to her about it several times already. But I just hadn't in me to worry about that at that moment.

"Has he what, baby?" I asked wondering what she had meant with her question.

"Has he said that he was sorry?"

"Uhhm… Yes, he did."

"Oh, that's good," she replied smiling, already focused on the final piece of her chocolate cake, before she asked, "So why didn't you ask him to come to the mall with us if he's sorry?"

"Baby, it's not that easy. What dad did… well, grown-ups sometimes do things that are very serious and hard to make up. And… It doesn't matter that he's sorry Elizabeth. I don't… I'm still angry with him," I answered.

"Course it matters mom," she immediately said with a very grave face and without any hint of her previous smile, "if he said he was sorry, then you forgave him, right? That's what good people do. That's what you said I had to do when Richard broke my clay."

Damn it. What should I tell her next? I should have thought things better before I started that conversation. And she was right. She was completely right. I had told her that. And it had only been less than two weeks before. Liz had been terribly angry with a boy in her class because he had broken her terracotta basin. The boy kept saying that he hadn't meant to do it. But Liz had been sure that he had. Whereas their teacher said that she hadn't seen so she didn't know. Lizzie did another bowl on the following day, obviously. But, like Liz had said, "it just isn't the same." Not the clay bowl, nor my trust in Eric. And, all in all, my daughter was mad with her colleague and very sad to see her art destroyed. So, when I went to pick her up that day, I just explained to her that sometimes people did things without meaning it. Or that, in other times, they did mean it, but then they were sorry for their deeds afterwards. And if Richard had honestly told her that he was sorry, then she should forgive him and they should be friends again.

"I know, but that's different Liz. Dad…" And then I shut up because I really didn't know what to say next. 'Dad kissed an ex-girlfriend twice'? 'Dad didn't read your story yesterday'? 'Dad put his hand on another woman's knee'? Somehow, none of those options sounded okay to me, so I just… I shut up.

"You didn't forgive dad?" Lizzie asked with an awed face, and when I didn't answer her, she repeated her question. But, again, I didn't answer my daughter. Okay, call me coward and insensible. I deserve it. But I just… I really couldn't answer Liz.

And when she kept asking when I would forgive him (not "if" but "when"), I just answered her exactly the same thing that I had answered Eric right before dawn that day. I told her that I didn't know. And then she insisted that I had to forgive him when we got home that night.

"We're spending the night at a hotel, baby. Not at home," I finally said.

She then, obviously, asked why, but I managed to not answer her that question, by saying that I had already packed her toothbrush and her pajamas and clothes for the next day. And when her morose face continued, I tried to excite her over the whole thing by saying that we would have fun, sleeping in a hotel, just us girls. I told her about letting her watch TV until 10pm, a whole hour after her week-night bedtime, and also about using the room-service. But when nothing resulted, I just asked and then I paid for the bill.

"What about Nike?" she questioned when we were leaving the restaurant. Of course she would ask about the dog.

"Nike's okay. I left him in the garage before I went to pick you up at school," I answered. Nike usually spent his day in our garden if no one was at home or inside the house when we were. And then, at night, he slept at the garage because he was still a puppy. He'd be sleeping outside in a couple of months.

"But he needs water. And he needs food. And he needs me. And, and…" she immediately answered almost screaming at me in the middle of the mall. Liz was obviously over-exited. Or, I guess… she was mad. She had clearly hated the idea of sleeping in the hotel and she was using Nike as an excuse to go home.

"Elizabeth," I interrupted my daughter, "keep your voice down," I told her with my stern-mom tone of voice, and then I added with my normal mommy-voice, "You know he has both water and food in the garage. And dad's there. He'll take care of Nike."

"But Nike will miss me, and I'll miss him, mom," she answered already calmer, before she asked me a question that I sure didn't know the answer, "how long until we go home again?"

I sighed and told her that I wasn't sure yet. But, obviously, Liz insisted and repeated that same question in three or four different ways. However, I stood by my "not sure" answer while I tried to get her inside a store (any store) and buy her something (anything). But she just answered that she didn't want to stay in the mall, nor would she want to watch TV because she was sleepy. I looked at my watch and noticed that it was 8.30 already, so it was possible that she would be tired by then. We left the mall towards the parking lot.

We entered the car, buckled the seatbelts.

And then, I just didn't resist. Yes, I knew that it was wrong, but I did it. I picked my daughter's mind. And what was she thinking? Well, Liz was wondering what Eric might have done, or, more specifically, what would he have broken. She was afraid that he had broken the big TV in our living room, because it was big and I would be angry if he had broken it. And besides, in her head, it would justify why I wanted to go to a hotel and watch TV with her. But, worse than all that, she was mad at me, because she thought that I should just forgive Eric and be done with it. And, more than that, she was remembering when Helen cried in the school's bathroom because she missed her dad. I clearly saw in Lizzie's mind Helen's face telling Liz that her mom was always either sad and crying, or mad and yelling with her or her brother, and also that her dad was always bad-mouthing about her mother, because she didn't let him be with his kids. I then heard Liz sighing and then she thought that she hoped I wouldn't start being sad or angry all the time.

And that was when I blocked her mind and I just concentrated on driving us safely to a Holiday Inn that was close to the highway. Liz didn't say a single thing during the whole drive there. And neither did I.

When we got to the hotel, I turned the key off and I was glad when the car silenced. I looked back at my daughter and I realized that she was already sleeping. Damn it. Now I would probably have to wake her up, because I knew that I wouldn't be able to move her inside the hotel still sleeping. And Liz was always a grumpy whenever she would wake up so soon after falling asleep, as most kids were.

I grabbed my purse and I looked again at my cell-phone, hoping that there would be some contact from Eric there. But there wasn't. No missing call. No text message. Wasn't he missing me at all? Missing us?

I sighed and then I left my seat behind the wheel, and I then I moved towards the back door of the car. It was time to wake Liz so we would go to the hotel.

If Eric wasn't missing us, then, who knew? Maybe on the following day, I would call David's mom and tell her that we might be moving back to Cleveland. Brown's Bar & Grill was being managed by one of David's cousins but officially it belonged to Liz. And because Lizzie was underage and I was her mother, I could just go there and say that I wanted to work there again. Or even manage it. Yes, perhaps we would go back to Tennessee.

I opened the back door and I saw Liz peacefully sleeping there. I sighed again. And then I wondered for the umpteenth time since the previous night, what the hell would I do with my life and where would I go from there.

So? What do you think about this chapter? I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Thank you again. Célia

From their various albums, Bon Jovi have had many outtakes, that is, songs that haven't made the record. "Better Think Twice" is one of those songs. It stars like this: "I just want all those modern romances / Always being in love / When any girl smiled at me / I went wild at the touch of her clothes / Then bang it`s off before I know it / Poor broken hearted me / Better think twice before falling in love again / Better think twice before falling in love"