[Disclaimer] Everything Twilight belongs to Mrs. Stephenie Meyer
[A/N] I want to thank all of you for your comments on this little fic. It makes me happy to know how much you care about the characters in my story.
FAQ's
Why does the dilating hurt Bella so much?
Several reasons – she might have some scarring from the surgery and then there's the problem that she's not exactly relaxed when she uses the dilators.
**10**
I nibble nervously on the end of my pen, unable to bring down any words on the sheet of paper in front of me.
Finally I give up, crumbling the paper into a ball that I threw against the wall at the other side of the room.
"You can't throw things inside the house. It's not allowed."
A chuckle leaves my throat as I lean down to plant a kiss on my three-year-old's forehead.
"You're right, sweetie. I shouldn't have done that."
"We can play ball outside. You promised to show me how to catch."
"Later, Andy, I need to finish this…stuff first."
"Hmm," he murmurs, turning his attention back to his coloring book.
I walk into the kitchen and mechanically I open the fridge to get myself a drink. Then I remember pouring the last wine we had into the sink. Crap, I bet a bit of alcohol would have surely helped me to relax a bit.
Stuffing a leftover piece of apple pie between my lips I lean back against the table behind me. The caramel crust is sweet on my tongue, it's one of my grandma Marie's favorite recipes.
I close my eyes for a moment and the memory flashes through me before I can stop it.
"Baking cake? Are you trying to turn my son into a sissy, Mom?"
"It's not like that, Charlie. He just likes to be in the kitchen with me. There isn't anything wrong with the little one."
"He's too girly. I should hit some sense into his weird little brain. Brian, come here!"
"Don't you dare to lay a hand on the poor boy! You're just agitated like that because you've had too much to drink."
"This is my house, and if I want to have a fucking beer I have one!"
My eyes fall open and with shaking knees, I sink down on the kitchen ground. I start crying, my tears smearing the carefully applied eye-makeup all over my face. I hate my father. I never wanted to be like him when I grew up. I'd rather be dead. As for the drinking, I make a secret vow to myself to stay away from the wine, at least for a while.
"Mommy, why are you crying?"
"It's nothing, sweetie. Your Mommy is just being silly." I tell him, wiping a bit of make-up from my cheeks, before I head for the bathroom where I try to clean myself up again.
"Can we play now?" Andy asks me, impatiently when I return downstairs. I nod my head and for the next hour I manage not to waste one single thought on all the stressing things in my life.
Both, me and my little son are watching an episode of Sponge Bob when Alice eventually returns from her visit to Andrea.
"Hey there," she greets us cheerfully, leaning another painting against the back of the couch.
I wrap my arms around Alice's middle and pull her on my lap, pressing my lips against her collarbone.
"Mommy showed me how to catch but I'm not good at it."
"I'm sure you're doing fine, honey."
"No, I don't. But it's because Mommy is a girl and girls can't throw right."
"Who told you that?" I ask him, secretly thrilled about his comment.
"Emmett." he says before resting his head against Alice's leg. She strokes his hair and within a couple of minutes he drifts into sleep, his thumb as usually inside his mouth to suck on it.
"He's such a dear child." I whisper into Alice's ear. "I'm glad you decided to have him."
"We decided to have him." she tells me, planting a tender kiss on my lips.
"Andy is like the best of both of us."
"I don't feel like there is too much good about me. In the last time, I've made so many mistakes. No wonder, you'd felt like running away from me."
"I shouldn't have that. It was wrong. Being separate from each other, won't help us deal with our problems."
"You're right about that."
Carefully I stand up from the couch while Alice pulls a blanket over the little one. I should carry him up to his room, but then he'll probably wake up again.
"Do you want some tea?" I ask Alice when we walk into the kitchen. She nods her head and sits down, fumbling an envelope out of her jacket.
"Mrs. White sent me a ticket to Dallas, First class and shit. That woman must be pretty desperate to get her paintings."
"She has good taste in Art." I tell her, placing tea bags into two mugs. "I'm happy you've found someone who wants to invest some serious money into your work."
"I don't know and Mrs. White seems a bit egocentric to me. People with too much money tend to be weird sometimes."
"I'm flying with you to Texas, if that makes you feel more comfortable. My credit card should survive those extra expenses without too severe damage."
"None sense. I'll just change that first class ticket into two economy class ones."
"Good idea."
I add some sugar to her tea before I hand it to her.
"Did you finish your list yet?"
"What kind of list?"
"The one we're supposed to do for our next Therapy session. You haven't forgotten about it. Have you?"
She shakes her head and takes a careful sip from her hot drink.
"I don't need to write it down. I know what I love about you."
"And that is?" I whisper barely audible.
"I love that you always support me no matter what I do. I love how you make me feel safe when you hold me in your arms. I love how you fight for your right to be who want to be. I love the way you take care of our boy. I love the way you look at me like I'm the best thing that ever happened to you."
"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, never doubt that." I tell her before pulling her into a breathless kiss.