"This is goodbye,"

"It doesn't need to be like this…"

"Yes, it does,"

She turned her back on the one man she loved because of her foolishness.

Mickie stood in front of the TNA locker room, sighing at the thought of today. It was his birthday. Her first one away from him… his first one without her. Now that she had thought about how everything had went down, she wished it never even happened. He was everything to her; yet she was so quick to turn her back because he wished not to leave with her. "Damn it," She whispered to herself, before a fellow knockout and friend, Velvet approached her. "You gonna be okay?" She asked with a soft voice, and Mickie put on a façade, smiling. "Of course!" The brunette waved off the situation and opened the locker room door. Her jaw tensed when Velvet spoke again,

"It's tough… I know, believe me. Me and Greg did it, but I think you could have kept it going—"

"Please, not now… I just—I know I fucked up now," The more she thought about it, the more it broke her heart. A ring he had given to her still sat comfortably on her finger. She wouldn't dare take it off, even if it tortured her daily. Velvet had no idea what else to say, and so she left it at that—walking off and giving Mickie her rightful moment of clarity.

Slowly, Mickie gathered her belongings, placing her wrestling gear inside, a few extra belongs and her cell phone. However, her iPhone sat right atop her other belongs and she couldn't help but get this urge. She dialed his number… nibbling on her lower lip as she did so. A lump developed in her throat and her eyes shut once the ringing began. In due time, however, it went to voicemail; Leave a message.

"H-Hi… I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I miss you,"

She left it at that and hung up, slipping the phone in her pocket this time, and exiting the arena.

He stared at the phone as she called. Her name popping up was something that he did not expect, but something he had hoped for ever since she left him behind.

Mickie.

He still didn't understand why it had to end the way it did. The way everything came to a halt when WWE told her that it was time she left. Maybe he was wrong for not going with her… wrong for letting them push her away? He hardly knew what the reasoning was; and yet, he thought he knew her better than the rest.

One New Voicemail.

Those words appeared on his phone and he rolled his eyes. She actually went that far to leave a message? Did she even remember it was his birthday? Grabbing his phone, he checked the mail, hearing her voice. He hadn't heard it in so long; it was still as beautiful as ever… but with a hint of sadness.

H-Hi… I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I miss you.

Did she really? Or was she just saying it to ease his heartache? He chuckled to himself, exiting voicemail without deleting it. He'd tell himself later that he had forgotten—but truly—he just missed her voice. TNA was close by tonight, playing a show in the arena one town over. Times like this made him smile; knowing she was so close by. As he walked down the hall with his bag over his shoulder, a championship belt in the other, he grinned at all the birthday greetings. "Thanks guys," He nodded with a smile, waving a few friends. Even a few enemies pushed it aside to say those words to him. Once in the parking lot, he threw his bag into his car and got in, taking a deep breath. Maybe he should reply back to her. Not with a phone call, but possibly a text.

To: Mickie.

Thanks for the birthday wish. Where's my present?

Comedy shielded the pain—for the most part. She replied back swiftly.

You're still funny. We're in the same town, you know, where are you staying?

"Where… are… you… staying…" Mickie sat in her hotel room, typing out the text message. She bit her lower lip nervously but was more than happy to finally speak to him (or type to him, in this case).

Hampton Inn. You?

Her eyes widened—for she was in the same hotel as him. She had no idea if she should reply at this point. He was so close; too close. But she coughed up the courage to type back.

Same. How ironic.

The conversation ended there; she didn't get a reply back. And deep down, that angered her, made her sad. But she figured it was for the best. I mean… they were both staying awfully close to each other. It was mind boggling, really. Velvet walked into the room soon after and saw the condition Mickie was in. She raised a brow at this and of course, her curiosity got the best of her. "You okay?" Mickie nodded, snickering with sadness. "He's in the same hotel tonight," Mickie responded; what more was there to say? Velvet knew that needed to keep her mouth shut at this point—or find a way to get her friends mind off of him. "How about a movie?"

Mickie shook her head, "No thanks—I think I just need to get a drink," She sat up and ruffled her brunette curls. Her make-up had not been taken off just yet; and she was still wearing her outfit she left the Impact arena with. Her jean shorts and tan boots matched nicely with her tan tank top. She rushed to get her phone and key and darted out the room for a drink. Mickie let her quickened steps fall to a slow stride. Nothing against Velvet—but now was not the time to be 'girlfriends' and watch chick flicks. Mickie was just in too much of a bad mood. Maybe after a few drinks and some sleep, she'd forget all about him. But as she continued to walk to the elevator, she passed by a familiar figure. His white t-shirt, sleeve tattoos going down his arms and a pair of simple jeans… her breath hitched and she sucked in her glossy lower lip.

Best in The World—his shirt said with pride. 'Is that what his gimmick is now?' She questioned herself before trying to slip past him as if it were nothing. "Micks,"

She stopped in her tracks and turned to him, sadness in her eyes—but the will to hug him and kiss his unshaven cheek, "Phil," She whispered back in return. Before she could speak, she found herself in his embrace, a tight one at that. "Come to say happy birthday in person? Or are you trying to avoid me for the rest of your life?" He questioned sternly and Mickie lowered her head, pressing her forehead to his chest. Her hands wrapped around his abdomen and gripped his white shirt, "I…" She couldn't even speak. "I know, you miss me," He spoke in return, backing away to get a good look at her cute face. "You look so miserable, cheer up." He tried to be happy for the both of them, she could tell.

"Why don't you hate me? I just left, you know—"

"I know you left. And that pissed me off, but I'm sure you had… a reason," Phil hesitated for a moment. Mickie caught that and her jaw tensed up once more. "I don't even know what to say. I just wanted you to leave with me. That's so—"

"Immature, yes," He flashed a grin—he always loved finishing her sentences. Especially since Mickie hated when he did so. They were silent for a moment; Mickie's brown hues examined his shirt. "Best in the world… is that what you are now?" Mickie couldn't even watch WWE shows anymore; so sadly, she had not kept up with Phil and his work. "Damn right, Punk is the best—and he's champ. I guess you haven't been watching." He laughed and pulled her towards his room, opening the door and pushing her inside. She took a look around the room; it was identical to hers, no real difference except for the smell and aura. That Axe body spray filled her nose and she had missed it so much. Whenever she use to kiss Phil on his neck, or nuzzle it for that matter, she smelled that odor. One that she would never forget. "It smells like you," She commented, walking towards the bed and taking a seat on it. Her pointer finger pressed to her lips and she looked over in his direction. He hadn't moved from his spot, it was almost as if he was examining her to make sure she was real.

"Phil…"

"Can you do me a favor?" He leaned back against the door, arms crossed and face as serious as she had ever seen it.

"I suppose I could." Mickie tilted her head, a brown curl falling out of place with the rest of her hair. She couldn't understand the sudden question but she figured there was some meaning behind it. "Just stay," He stated simple and her tanned cheeks held a slight tint of pink. "What?"

"You heard me. It's my birthday—you didn't get me anything. The least you can do is let me have you as a present," His serious face turned into a simple smirk; one that Mickie returned, along with a snicker. "You're still the same,"

"And you're still beautiful." He moved so quickly from his spot that Mickie had not realized he was now right next to her. Their eyes locked, Phil's hand caressed her own. She felt her stomach twist and turn before leaning in to capture his lips within her own. "I'm still mad you left me," Phil pulled his lips away from hers, only to place a kiss on her dimpled cheek, trailing some down to her smooth neck. His free hand—now unwrapped with tape—cupped her cheek to keep her head in place. Mickie let out a simple sound, a small moan. "I'm—I'm sorry," She kept her voice at a whisper.

"You're not sorry unless you fix it," He whispered against her skin. He was right… Phil was always right. He tried to catch a glimpse of her face to see any expression that would appear on her face. Mickie's hand moved, twitching at how her weak spot was being toyed with. This caused Phil's eyes to avert to her hand and that's when he saw the ring. "You still wear it…"

"Every day," The brunette turned to him and gave him a faint smile. "Even though I left, I never stopped loving you," As stupid as it sounded, it was the truth. Mickie felt stupid for every day that she wasn't with Phil—or CM Punk as the world knew him. "I just miss you. I wish I could take it back, and fix it—but I can't,"

"Who said that?" Phil smirked, lifting his hand to pull out a chain necklace that Mickie had bought him for his birthday the year before. "I don't take this off either," He raised a brow at Mickie's shocked face. Did she think that he'd hate her forever? He couldn't even if he tried. "My present is you. Just make that deal permanent,"

Mickie nodded slowly, remembering what Velvet said about making it work. If she and Gregory could have done it—so could Mickie and Phil. They shared a glance, the sadness had left quickly and now—even if it was shocking—the room was filled with reacquainted love. Her body shifted a bit, turning to him and wrapping a hand around his neck, her slender fingers toyed with his hair for a moment. His dorky grin replaced his previous smirk and Mickie couldn't help but laugh. That grin always did something to her.

"Happy Birthday, Phil."