A/N: Thanks so much for keeping with this story. I really hope it is living up to your expectations and that you're having as much fun reading it as I am with writing it!


In the middle of mother/daughter pedicures, I spilled my heart out. I couldn't think of anyone better to bare my soul in front of than my own mother. She was the only one who could possibly understand. "Mom, did you ever sneak around to hang out with someone you weren't supposed to be seen with?"

Her head swiveled toward me comically slow, almost like she was exaggerating her movements to get a laugh out of me, but the heaviness in her face said otherwise. I watched the woman painting my toenails as a distraction, but this sticky situation had engulfed me like a brush fire, and I was suffocating fast. I needed my mom's help, and luckily, she was prepared to offer her reinforcements. "I don't recall ever having to sneak around, no. I've only ever really been with your father, and our families were friends, so we didn't have to sneak around to be together at all. Why do you ask?"

Her expression was calculated, and as I watched her run down the gamut of emotions, from wonder to curiosity to concern, I knew I could open up. I could tell her the truth, and so I did — without naming any names. "I'm only curious because I'm sort of running into that problem. There's this person who I couldn't be seen with, unless I was fully prepared for the backlash that would come along with it. The only problem is that I really like him as a person, and we're great friends, but people would make me feel bad about talking to him, if they knew."

"Do you want to tell me who he is?"

"He?" I shot back, alarmed. "How do you know it's a 'he'?"

"You just said it was a man, honey. You said you really liked him."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

She reached for my hand, and I offered it. Our fingers clasped, and we sat holding hands for a long while, the same way we used to when I was a little girl and ran errands with my mom for the day. Her warming touch was enough to make me realize that she was on my side, and she wouldn't judge me the way people at work might, and certainly not the way my own father might, had he known what I was up to. She wasn't pushing me, and I liked that. My mother wanted me to come to her in my own time, so I licked my lips and gathered my thoughts, and when the proper time came, I pushed my thoughts out.

"I like him," I stated, simply enough. My mom turned to look at me, and she wore a soft smile. The light in her eyes was encouragement enough for me, so I continued. "I think I have a crush on him, to be honest. He's so sweet, and he gets me in a way that nobody else does. He treats me like his equal and not just another girl, and there's so much to love about him. He's just an all-around great guy."

"Then what's the problem?" she asked. "Does he like you, too?"

"I think so. I didn't give him a chance to tell me whether or not he does. The last time we talked, we sort of had an argument, and I stormed out in the end."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" my mom asked. She reached over and patted my thigh. "Tell me everything."

And so I did. I told her everything: from my initial encounter with Chris, to our budding friendship over several weeks, to Shane inadvertently throwing a monkey wrench into our most recent plans. I spilled my guts that day, and I'm proud I had the courage to go through with it, because letting my mom in on my relationship with Chris turned out to be one of the most intelligent decisions I made. She became a beacon of hope to me in times of distress, always reminding me that if Chris were truly the right man for me, we would be together regardless of any hardships. We talked in-depth that day, not stopping until our nail polish was dry and the time had come to leave the salon.

We returned to our car and got buckled in, and we waited there in the parking lot for a while, because temperatures in town were near freezing, and we wanted to give the heater sufficient time to kick in. I wrapped my arms around my body and shivered in silence, teeth practically chattering, while I waited to feel the first hint of warmth. My mom rubbed her palms together to generate her own body heat, and I felt her eyes on me after a minute or so. She wanted to know more, I could tell, now that she knew Chris was the current object of my affections, and I was ready to talk, mostly because I needed the advice.

"Tell me more about Chris," she said. "What are you ultimately hoping for with him?"

"Marriage and babies," I spat out. Her eyes widened, and I burst out laughing. When I caught my breath, I clarified. "I'm kidding. All I really know is that I'm happy when I'm with him. I feel like my truest self when we're together, like I can say or do anything, and he won't judge me for it. I miss him when we're apart, and that has to mean something, right?"

"I suppose it does."

"Dad is so judgmental, though, and he's always making snide remarks to — and about — Chris. It's not fair," I said. I wasn't trying to tell on my dad, but if it took my mom's assistance to convince him to lay off of Chris, I would seek that. "I always thought Dad was one of the good guys, but how can he treat Chris that way just because of his looks? Who cares if he has some burns and scars on his face? That shouldn't define who he is. It doesn't define him."

"Your father thinks that his teasing is all in good fun."

"Well, when your actions start hurting someone, they can no longer be considered fun and games."

"I agree."

"How should I handle it, then?" I wondered. I was truly stumped as to how to proceed. "I want to protect Chris, but I don't want to draw attention to the fact that we've been hanging out, because that will put an unnecessary target on his back. We've been sneaking around at the shows, and we meet up before and after each taping, but I feel like nobody besides you needs to know that. I can't turn to anyone about this, except for you."

"What about your brother?" my mom questioned. "He might be able to help."

"Shane is amazing, and he always looks out for me, but I don't think I could tell him about this. He would only judge."

"To be fair, Shane would judge at least a little bit, regardless of who you were with," she pointed out. By then, the car had warmed, so she shifted into reverse and began backing out of our parking space. "He wouldn't have anything against Chris personally, but he would be protective of you as a big brother. I think he could be one of your biggest allies in this, if you give him a chance."

"Yeah, but Dad and everyone at work has Shane brainwashed about Chris," I said. I truly believed it at the time, although I'm not so sure it's true anymore. "People constantly crack jokes about the way he looks, and Shane laughs. I can't really hold it against him, because I used to be one of those people who would laugh just to fit in with them, but I feel horrible about it now, and I apologized to Chris for it. He was defensive toward me at first, but when he saw that I was serious about getting to know him, he opened up. He's really forgiving, to people who are genuine about trying to build a relationship with him."

"Forgiveness is a good quality for a man to possess. If you don't feel like you can talk to Shane about it right now, I understand. Maybe try to ease into the subject when you talk to him next, and build on it a little more each week, until he sees Chris in a better light," my mom suggested. "Then, you can tell him that you and Chris are together."

"Whoa, hold on, we're not together, Mom," I corrected. "I can see us getting there at some point in the future, but we haven't gotten a chance to talk in person since Monday night. I had a short phone conversation with him, and he said he would talk to me the next time we see each other. Oh, and I'm also supposed to be spending next weekend at his house. We planned a weekend together, to have fun and hang out and get to know each other better, I guess."

"That sounds nice. Do you think Chris is still up for it, even after your argument?"

"He mentioned it in passing when we last talked on the phone. He said he had something to ask me about next weekend, so I'm guessing we're still on, unless he's going to postpone it. I would be a little heartbroken if he did," I admitted. I bit my bottom lip and glanced down at my fingernails. "I just want to spend time with him. He's so much fun to be around."

"I've never gotten to know him beyond our brief encounters at the shows, but he seems nice enough. I'm glad that he makes you so happy."

"He's such a positive, uplifting person, and that's what I think I love most about him," I told her. I was entering gush-mode, and there was no telling how long I would spend in that state of mind. "He's got all these people judging him unfairly for his looks, and it seems like so many things are working against him, but he never complains. Sometimes, he'll mention the looks or comments he gets, but he doesn't sit and wallow in his despair or feel sorry for himself. He always says he tunes people out and does his own thing. This one time, we went in a department store together, and this woman was staring at him so rudely, so I sort of went off on her."

My mom's eyes widened, and she eyed me from the driver's seat. "Interesting. You never told me about that."

"Chris was the rational one that day. He told me not to let other people upset me and to just ignore them. He was basically saying that if he allowed himself to get upset every single time a person stared or pointed at him, he would never get anything else done," I explained, staring out the window at the passing traffic and trees. The road was slick with a light rainfall that had spritzed itself over town while we were holed up in the salon. I watched a raindrop trickle down the passenger window, and I followed that with a sigh. "I thought it was a really mature way of looking at things, and I was impressed with him for that."

"You haven't stopped talking about him since we got our nails done. You really like him, don't you?"

"A lot."

"What if he asks you out next weekend?"

"I would die," I said, following that with a slight chuckle. I was only half-kidding. "Seriously, though, I would say yes. The only hard part would be figuring out how to make our relationship a public thing. I could just walk into work one day, holding his hand, but I feel like that would cause the kind of blow-up that I don't want to see happen while I'm backstage at a show. I would rather tell Dad at your house."

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," she said. Her words calmed me more than she knew. "I will support you in whatever you decide. Go see Chris next weekend, see what he has to say for himself, and if you two decide to be together, I'll have your backs. I'll take you to your father myself and tell him he needs to learn to accept the people you choose to have in your life." She reached out to pat the top of my hand, and it pacified me, the same way a mug of steaming hot chocolate did on a cold, winter day. "We'll get through this, honey. I'm on your side."

"Thanks, Mom. That means a lot."

Anticipation bubbled in my stomach all weekend, like a pot of boiling water, and the tension didn't stop until Monday night rolled back around. After an entire weekend of giving each other space, Chris and I were both eager to reseal our bond. My mom was always a phone call away, and knowing I had her support worked wonders for my confidence. I had dressed a little more risquè that day, wearing a v-neck sweater that showed plenty of cleavage. I had even gone the extra mile to curl my hair and dab on some makeup, although I wasn't exactly an expert on applying cosmetics. I didn't wear makeup often, but I thought Chris might like it.

I had been caught up in a production meeting with my dad for most of the afternoon, so Chris and I hadn't gotten the chance to meet at the hotel the way we usually did. I sent a courtesy text message to let him know where I was, and he responded right away, promising to see me later at the show. I broke away from my dad the second our work ended, and from there, it was a mad dash down each hallway, to find Chris's locker room. I searched everywhere, barely refraining from crying out in frustration each time I would stumble across a room without his name on the plaque. I had a say in what his locker room was comprised of, but I didn't get to control where it was placed, so I went on a wild goose chase to hunt him down, but when I finally found him, the payoff was all made worth it.

I dropped everything for one man, and when I found the door with his name, I did our signature knock. When the door swung open, I slipped inside and waited for him to close it. We needed our privacy now more than ever. Chris focused in on me, and I smiled, but neither of us went in for a hug like we normally would have. We weren't angry with each other, but there was unfinished business, and neither of us quite knew how to dive into it. All we knew was that a hug, at that juncture in the game, seemed unnatural, or at the very least, slightly forced. Instead, I hugged my arms around myself and took a seat on his couch, reaching for the fruit platter and plucking off a juicy, green grape.

I popped it into my mouth and waited for Chris to join me, but he continued standing, scratching absently at the back of his head. I patted the couch cushion with my palm. "Come here and talk to me, will you?"

"Things left off really weird between us."

"Yeah, I know, but it's nothing we can't work through," I said. He didn't say anything, and I felt the muscles in my forehead contract into a frown. "Chris...please tell me this is something we can work through."

"It is," he said, but his reluctance said otherwise. "I'm just nervous."

"Don't be nervous."

"I can't help it."

"Just come sit so we can talk. We'll get all of this worked out." I patted the couch for a second time, and that was enough to lead him over. He plopped down beside me, and I slid my hand onto his thigh. He didn't react, except for a slight flinch, but I didn't know what to make of that. The only way to find out what was going through his head would be to ask. "I'm sorry that I couldn't spend time with you after the show last week. I wanted to go with you so badly, but Shane came out of nowhere, and I couldn't exactly turn him down for dinner."

"It had been a while since you guys had last hung out, huh?" Chris asked. I was so happy he was taking to me that I linked his hand with mine, weaving my fingers through his. I smiled widely at him, and he cracked a smile of his own.

"Yeah, it had definitely been a while. Now that he's away and working on his own thing, it's difficult to find the time to visit with him, but it was nice to catch up," I said. "I just felt terrible, because you were waiting for me and I couldn't get to you. We left off in such a weird place, and you're probably wanting me to explain myself for my little blow-up the last time we talked."

"Did you mean what you said that night?" Chris asked. He locked eyes with me. "Were you serious when you said you liked me as more than a friend?"

And there was the million dollar question. I had turned it over in my mind all weekend, as I was sure he had, and now it was time for my answer to make itself known. I didn't regret my words from the week before, although I might have changed the manner in which they came out. I would have liked to sit Chris down for a mature talk on that night, rather than blurting my feelings out in the heat of the moment, but it had already happened, and I couldn't take it back. Seeing hopeful cheer that was ringing like a bell in Chris's eyes, I had no desire to rearrange my words or make them disappear. He deserved to know the truth, and I was the only one who could provide it.

Still clutching his hand, I cleared my throat and proceeded. "I meant what I said with all of my heart. I like you, and it's not only in a friendly way anymore. I think we could have something real here."

"I want to understand why you're pursuing this, but I can't. This makes no sense."

My heart dropped, and I knew my face was a canvas, painted with all the sorrow coursing through my fractured heart at that moment. "You don't like me in that way?"

"It's not that I don't like you that way," Chris told me. "I think you're gorgeous, and you have a killer personality. I find myself wanting to hang around you all the time. What I feel about this situation has nothing to do with you, Steph. It's about me, my own insecurities."

"So, what are you saying?" Of course, I had already gotten my answer, but I needed to hear the words straight from his mouth before I would accept defeat. The only thing was, he didn't say what I expected to hear. Instead, he gave me a proposal — one that I was able to accept fully and without hesitance.

"I'm saying I want to give myself the next week to consider exactly where you and I are going with each other. Come to my house this weekend?" Chris asked. His voice did the cutest hitch at the end of the question, the verbal arc enough to send my heart into a fit of leaps. Now we were getting somewhere, and it felt good. I wasn't down and out. I still had a chance. We still had a chance.

"Of course I'll come."

"Yeah?" he asked, corners of his mouth twitching, then curling into a smile.

"Yeah. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."