Oneshot.
I do not anyone.
Maryse lay in bed, thinking about the past events that had occurred. She was alone again - no scratch that, she was always alone in bed. The sheets stopped right above her cleavage, the cold morning air rushing in. She sighed at looked at the engagement ring, Ted had presented her. She fiddled with it, appreciating its beauty and value. She wasn't all about the latest season's coat or handbag.
She was an average woman with feelings, not just some Barbie.
Ted had proposed to her the night before, the dinner she had made for them becoming something so much more. She still remembered the hopeful glint in his eyes as he bent down on one knee. There was no tears when he showed off the big rock - nor was their complete happiness. Her feelings were mixed.
Ted and she were drifting apart. That dinner they made up didn't repair his infidelities. The spark they once had was gone. They had their fallouts every so often and make-up sex usually resolved them but they still left a mark on Maryse. His claims of her cheating on him sometimes made her want to break free from their ties. But somehow she couldn't.
He was like her drug that she couldn't quit. The last hit might have just come.
It wasn't the money that attracted her to him; it was his boyish good looks and his charming ways. He could be the respectful gentlemen. He wasn't a complete asshole or jerk all the time and that was the Ted she cared about.
Yet, she didn't love that side of Ted.
Ted had his moments - she understood that, it's just that they were a little more than what she had expected. His tantrums more than scared her to death and soothing him would make no difference. It was times like that she wanted to flee, to be single.
Now she was engaged and lost.
Their relationship from the start had been perfect. Their carriage ride had been smooth meaning, no bumps, no scratches, nothing. Everything was fantastic, more than what she had planned. Until the dreaded night she found him in their bed with another woman; a ring rat, in fact. She didn't speak to him for a week before he charmed her. She was back in his bed and he was said the two words she yearned to come out of his mouth; I'm sorry.
Time after time this happened but she had the choice to leave him, to be Ted-free. But every single time the opportunity presented itself she was too late. Maryse twirled a piece of hair, lost in her thoughts. Ted didn't even leave a note or anything. He just left her high and dry temporarily.
She dared not ask the four sacred words that meant the most to her to him; do you love me? It would leave her more heartbroken than ever. The one time she asked Ted, the only response she got back was silence and a door slam. He never mentioned the words to her, too. Even during love.
Maryse debated on whether Ted was marrying her so there would be a woman always on the side or that he really loved her. Maryse was beyond beauty and money but he was too blind to see that. She thought about marrying him, becoming Mrs. DiBiase. She laughed to herself grimly.
She didn't like the way Ted tried laying his Southern culture on her. She got it; he was from Mississippi, and so what? She wasn't going to be his housewife or something; she was going to walk side by side him. Staying at home, cooking, washing dishes- wasn't her thing. Unless they had children and it scared Maryse.
Maryse thought about if she would want to have a child with a man who is on the road more than half the year. Her honest answer was no, but if it happened then it would be so. Just as long with the man she loved. She forced her self to think of Ted, kids and herself. It wasn't working the way she saw it. She saw herself as a single mother and divorced.
She stopped playing with her hair, and held onto the sheet, easing herself out of bed. She took a shower and arranged herself back to perfection. Like the Maryse everybody knew, loved or envied. She sat back on the undone bed, contemplating on whether leaving the ring here.
And boom, just like that, the ring laid beside a note on the nightstand.
Maryse packed her bags a drove over to the one person who would understand her, not judge. She stopped in front of his hotel and took the elevator to his room. She knocked gently, and she opened the door to a semi nude Punk.
She giggled and covered her mouth before closing the door. Her heels clattered against the marbled floor, making a pestering noise.
"Take those damn shoes off." Punk said, his arm hung off one side of the bed.
She sat down on the small space not occupied by soda cans, trash and clothes and removed the shoes off. Maryse sighed, the pain on her lower heel instantly going away. She sat on the corner of Punk's bed, getting comfortable.
"What happened this time?" He didn't move form his previous position.
"He proposed." Maryse looked at her neatly manicured nails, waiting for his reaction.
Punk spun around and looked at her to see if she was bluffing or not. She wasn't. But where's the ring, her thought.
He looked down at her finger. "I left it at home."
"So you accepted?"
She tilted her head to one side. "Not entirely."
Punk gave her a look and she had to break sooner of later." Okay, I did."
He looked down and nodded, taking in the words. Silence settled over them before he broke it, this time looking in her brown eyes. "Do you love him?"
"I…I don't know."
He sighed, the mixed answers irritating him. She wasn't so much of a tough nail to crack, she sincerely didn't know. There were times she could say, 'Yeah, I love this guy' and there times she couldn't.
"So will I get an invite to the wedding?"
She smiled. "Well, that's if it happens." The smile slowly eased itself.
"So you love him, huh?"
"Maybe."
"Damnit, there's no maybe in love."
"Since when did you know so much about love?" Maryse looked at him sideways.
"That's not the point. Do you love him, that's all I'm asking?" The brief second he had her attention was now averted on her nails, with a shrug of her shoulders.
Punk leaned on the bedpost, letting the possibility of her loving him. She couldn't, what was so interesting about him anyway? If he could count the number of times she's came to him, he would run out of fingers.
The nagging feeling of jealously rose in him. He had grown feelings for her over the time they had become friends. She wasn't the bitch and self centered person everyone saw on tv. She could be kind and thoughtful and maybe he's been the only one to see that side of Maryse.
Somehow, he had grownto love that side of Maryse.
He looked at her to admire the beauty and the confidence that radiated off her. She was beautiful. Her bleach blonde hair perfectly spiraled, to the way her jeans fit like a second glove to her legs. Her shirt was the most appealing with the color being the winning detail.
She noticed him observing her and stopped to look at him." What?"
"Nothing…"
An hour passed by between the duo and Punk didn't forget to ask the question - the one question that would hold his fate with their friendship.
"Do you love him?"
"I… I don't know, alright. After everything that's been going on between us, I-"
Punk's lips crashed onto hers, and Maryse pushed him off. In mere seconds their lips were locked. The kiss was passionate and sensual and contained all of Punk's pent up feelings.
"No." She whispered against his lips, her breath hitched.
"What do you mean no?"
"No, I don't love him."
"Then who do you love?"
"You." She kissed him again, their lips only leaving for short gasps of air.
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