Man in the Making
Chapter 14: The Most Important Decision EVER

A/N: Just wanted to let y'all know, super quick, that I'm flattered and honored by the response I've gotten to this story - the way that you've taken to Jamie, and at times even seen yourself in her, floors me. You guys are the best and your words of encouragement mean the world to me. Also, I decided that this story is going to be the second part of a trilogy and that I will start posting the third story soon after I've finished posting this one. If you loved Tatum, you won't be disappointed. If you love Jamie, again, you will not be disappointed. And if you love Randy, I promise you won't be disappointed. All three will be giving their perspective on how their lives turn out and end up. But for now, let's just settle for finishing Randy and Jamie's story together, shall we?

Ten days ago, when Randy got the call that he was cleared to come back to work, I threw up. Not in front of him, of course. I took a walk, and somewhere around the third block, it just hit me. I mean, it wasn't the reaction I was expecting, but the truth is that I wasn't thinking that far ahead. Every day was a new step toward some sort of inner peace, and I wasn't thinking about the big return. I was trying pretty fucking hard to believe the things that Randy and I had talked about, the things that we were working through together. For some reason, I think empowerment is easier when you don't think about the machine that drove you into the ground in the first place.

I just wasn't ready for the fear, the anticipation, the dread, the anxiety, and the hope that washed over me in this overwhelming torrent of emotion. There was no other way to purge myself of it all than to, well, purge myself. But ya know what the really fucking sick thing is? I think it helped. I do, because after that? I was ready. Ready to face it. All of it. The new job, the new lifestyle, and Josh.

Truth be told, I was pretty damned stoked to see him again. I mean, there was fear, of course. If he was angry enough, he surely could do to me ten times worse than he ever had in the past. But I didn't believe that was going to happen. A part of me truly believed that he would see my transformation, see how happy I was with myself, how much my little retreat from reality had done for my esteem and my confidence. There was a part of me that thought he would love me more because I loved myself. And fuck if I didn't want him to love me more.

Don't get me wrong, Randy is a nice guy. A super nice guy. And hot. Shit, is he ever smokin' hot. But he's not Josh. And I know you probably don't understand this, unless you've ever had one of those bleeding loves that Leona Lewis sings about, but I have known from the moment I met Josh Lafferty that we were meant to be together. Forever. And relationships go through up and down times. You get comfortable and you take each other for granted. But you work through it. You work on the things that you need to work on as individuals, and then you work on the couple things.

Well, I did that. I worked on the things I needed to improve upon. I found an inner strength. And I'm not taking shit anymore. Not that I've had to. Not yet. I mean, since I've been back, over the last week, everything with Josh has been heavenly. Perfect. Everything that I dreamed it would be. There were tears. From him, even. Yep, he cried.

When we arrived in San Diego, I called Josh to let him know that I was back. We weren't even through the doors of the hotel before he crushed me into a hug and started whimpering about how he thought he'd never see me again. For the next three hours, we sat in our room, and he told me that he was going to change, that things were going to be different, that he didn't know what he had until it was gone.

And for three hours, I told him that it was going to have to be different, that I couldn't keep living like we had been, but that I didn't want to lose him, either. I guess, if I'm really laying it all out there on the line, it was the most honest I've ever been with him. For the first time, I told him what I wanted our relationship to be, and he nodded his head, promising me that it was going to be everything I wished for and more. And I believed him. Because there were tears, and Josh never cries about anything.

"You look stunning tonight, James," Josh says as he leads me by the hand into a restaurant outside of San Antonio, Texas.

I feel like a princess on his arm. It's only been about a week since we've been back together, but I can tell that he's really trying. He's snapped a few times, but that's not exactly a big deal. And when I tell him that I'm not in the mood, or that I need some space, he backs off without a question. Once, I even scolded him for not putting the cap back on the toothpaste tube and he just told me that he would remember next time. No anger. No backhand. Nothing. Just a nod and an agreement. Things are clicking, guys. Really clicking.

My new job, which he has said nothing negative about either, by the way, starts on Monday. As does his stint with Smackdown. After only a week together, we're going to be ripped apart, and that's going to be hard. I mean, we spent nearly two weeks apart already. I'm not sure either of us is really jumping at going months at a time without seeing each other. We need this dinner, this time alone, to talk about the logistics of this whole long-distance relationship thing.

As we wait for the hostess to seat us, Josh takes my hand and then smiles over my head. "I hope you don't mind, baby," he grins broadly, turning me around, "but I invited another couple to join us.

Okay, this I was not expecting. I can only pray that the smile on my lips looks more real than it feels. "Hi," I manage to squeak out before his mother embraces me in a huge, flowery perfume hug that threatens to suffocate me.

"Jamie, Sweetheart," Evelyn gushes as she releases me and holds my shoulders, her eyes drifting over my body. If I was paranoid, I would think that I saw a look of disapproval in her eyes, but I'm trying to pretend to be more confident these days. "I have to admit, we were a little bit worried when the show came through town and you were AWOL, but Joshua told me about your mother," she goes on, shaking her head as the hostess leads us to our table.

Josh's father says nothing, but that's not unusual. His mother is a talkative woman, somewhat overbearing, and I don't usually speak much around her, either. Come to think of it, neither does Josh. I've always thought that Evelyn might be part of the reason that Josh lashes out like he does. Any man who spent the better part of his childhood completely dominated by his mother is bound to have some issues with emasculation and assertion. Of course, I keep that theory to myself.

I don't listen to much of the conversation between Josh and his parents, to be honest. I can't help thinking, instead, of Josh's mother's statement. Josh never mentioned to me that he had even seen his parents when Raw was back home. In fact, I'm pretty sure he told me that they were so busy that he didn't even have time to look his friends up. And what was that shit about my mother? What did he make up about her that caused his mother to look at me in that 'I don't know how you deal with that woman' way?

I mean, I guess I can understand his not wanting to tell his parents that we were having problems. I didn't exactly call my mother to cry about it, either. But that's because my mother is fucking alcoholic who barely knows how to answer the phone anymore. Yeah, I know that doesn't really make my argument, but as far as I know, Josh has never told his parents that. Because I asked him not to. Of course, he's done a lot of things in the past that I've asked him not to.

His father is telling him some story about work, one that his mother keeps interrupting for whatever reason or another, but I can't really pay attention while my brain is in 'churn' mode. It's amazing how the human mind works, ya know? One little seed of doubt or frustration or irritation just blossoms into something that occupies your every thought. It fucking sucks.

Now I'm thinking about how Josh wasn't too tired to play poker with the boys after the show last night, but he damn sure couldn't keep his eyes open to talk about our impending separation. I can't help wondering if there's something to the fact that Vince told him to take this week easy and gear up for a whole new set of challenges on Smackdown, yet he's been working more hours than I ever remember him working. And I can't help wondering if he didn't fly his parents in, from across the country, just to avoid the discussion once again.

I think he's trying to deny the inevitable. Which I would think is sweet, except that it's not going to solve anything. I'm not going to know where we stand, and neither is he. And thirty minutes into the meal, I'm starting to get a little bit pissed. Maybe I'm way off - I hope that I am - but it wouldn't be completely out of the question for Josh, ya know?

By the time the waitress takes our dinner plates and offers the dessert menus, I can barely see the table in front of me. I need to clear my head. Need to take a breath. Need to recenter myself and remember that this Josh sitting beside me is not the same one that Randy has been painting as the villain of the story for the last couple of weeks.

"Excuse me," I say softly as I stand, gripping my purse in my hand. "I'll be right back," I assure Josh when he lifts his eyes to me in confusion.

He touches my arm with a warm, but firmly disapproving, hand. "Where are you going?" he asks, like he's trying to whisper even though his mother and father can clearly hear.

Through gritted teeth, I pull my arm back. "To the bathroom," I respond, though a butterfly kicks up in my stomach at the irritated look in his eyes. I don't want to piss him off. I don't want to anger him. Not because I'm scared, though I'm sure that's what you think. But because I don't like hurting the man I love. But I just really need a minute outside of this room.

Stepping outside, I cast a glance through the large window at the front of the restaurant, content that I can't see Josh and his parents, which means they probably can't see me. Dialing my phone quickly, I wait for him to pick up. "Come on," I whisper as it rings for the fourth time. What the fuck happened to 'anytime, anywhere you need me'?

Voice mail. Great. Stupid fucker. "Randy," I say when the beep sounds, maybe against my will. Maybe it's what I wanted all along - to leave a message without actually having to hear him talk me out of this. Whatever this is. "It's Jamie," I identify myself, in case he thinks any other crazy bitch would call him and whisper like a coward. "I think something's up with . . ." What am I doing? Why am I even calling him? What the fuck is this going to accomplish? Am I going to call him every time I need a shot of confidence in my ass? Is that what I'm doing now? Trading one crutch for another? "Ya know what? Never mind. I'll talk to you later."

I flip the phone shut and toss my hair over my shoulders. This is my life. The one that I created for myself. The one that I want. Is Josh perfect? No. Would I like to resolve some of our issues, especially this trust one that, if I'm completely honest, has been plaguing me since long before I crawled to Randy's front door, before we head off in opposite directions? Of course, I would. But that's a fairy tale. And that's not where I live.

Squaring my shoulders, I head back into the restaurant with new resolve. Sort of. I feign it pretty well, actually. "Everything okay, baby?" Josh asks as I slide back into the seat beside him and tuck my hair behind my ears while I nod.

I can't say anything because I've just looked at the one place I thought would be safe. At my dessert plate. Except that instead of a cherry on top of my cheesecake sundae, there's a brilliantly shining diamond ring. Way bigger than a fucking cherry. "Fuck," I whisper under my breath, my heart nearly stopping.

"James, I love you," Josh starts, his body turning toward me. I hear his mother giggle from what sounds like a million miles away. "You are everything I have ever wanted in a woman. Everything I have ever dreamt of finding." Pushing his chair away, he gets on his knee, and takes my left hand. "I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else. Will you marry me?"

Well, now, there's the million dollar question. Will I marry him? When two minutes ago, I was seriously doubting that I even trusted him? Will I marry him? When it's clear to anyone with an ounce of common sense that we have a million issues to work through still? Will I marry him? When my gut is screaming that it's the beginning of a life of promises that will never be kept or come true? "I, um," I stammer, completely shocked and unsure of where to look or what to say or how to feel.

"Darling, my son is waiting for you answer," his mother's voice reaches my ears once again, and it suddenly feels like she's not so far away. Like she's right beside me. Breathing down my neck. Pushing me. Pressuring me. Demanding that I make a decision that I know I'm not ready to make.

I love Josh. Of that much, I am sure. We have seen better and worse and I still love him. We've seen richer and poorer, sickness and health. He has had me, and held me. I love him. That should be enough for as long as we both shall live, right? It should be enough.

But is it? That's the question. Is it enough? Will I marry him?