A/N: Thanks for all reads/reviews/faves/follows. They are extremely appreciated! :)

I stood puckering my lips while I squinted at the vast soda selection, my hands circling the handlebar of my shopping cart. Chris waited behind me with far too much patience, his right hand resting on my right hip while he anticipated my choice. We had eaten almost all of our food and guzzled most of our drinks, which had sent us scrambling to the store early that morning. We both liked to get in and get out before the general crowd had time to go shopping themselves. I would say we were borderline antisocial, but, hey, such was life at the time.

Our cart so far had some fresh fruit, raw honey, breakfast cereals, breakfast bars, oatmeal, assorted raw meats, rice, beans, potatoes, and even a few bakery items I had been tempted by. One was a carrot cake slice with thick cream cheese frosting; the other, a tin pan of brownies with frosting and chocolate chips on top. Chris generally ate pretty healthy and was a good influence on me in most areas, but I hadn't eaten before we left the house, and shopping hungry was causing me to make some bad choices. What I liked, though, was that when I chose something less than stellar, Chris never made me feel guilty about it.

I think he liked when I indulged. I sighed, and he chuckled just behind my ear, leading me to swat his thigh. He protested with a playful, "Hey!"

"Quit laughing at me."

He kissed my neck, the spot right behind my ear. "You're so cute. I mean, it's like you're studying for a huge test or something. It's really not that serious, babe. Just pick whatever you think you might like. If you try it and you hate it, we get rid of it, no big deal."

"Do you like flavored waters?"

"Sometimes," Chris shrugged. "They're not my favorite, but if you bought them, I'd probably drink them."

"So if I try these," I said, pointing to sparkling water with a splash of lime, "you would try 'em with me?"

"Probably."

"Okay," I said.

I parted from Chris's hold long enough to grab a six-pack of bottles and place them in the cart. My left hand squeezed my cell phone, which is where the bulk of my shopping list was kept, inside a digital notepad on my device. The rest was all memorized in my head, save for the smaller things I would inevitably leave without, not realizing I had forgotten them until I was already back home. I grabbed a container of mixed fruit juice, but no sodas. They were my guilty pleasure and I knew if I bought them, I would go overboard. The last thing I needed was a ton of empty calories.

We visited the deli counter next and picked up some hot, crispy chicken legs and thick potato wedges for our breakfast, because both Chris and I recognized that a person's first meal of the day didn't always have to consist of sausage, bacon, eggs, or something syrup could be drizzled over. We did a final sweep of the aisles, tossing in some last-minute selections, and Chris unloaded the groceries in line while I pulled out my pocketbook. I don't know why I bothered, because he only shoved it away with his hands when he saw it, tugging his wallet from his back pocket to pay for everything. He was always sweet like that, wanting to provide me with what I needed.

Chris was a good provider in general, and I saw that. That was one of the reasons why I didn't completely freak out whenever he asked me for a baby of his own. In the back of my mind, I knew he would be good at it, at being someone's father. He had skills and gifts that would make him a wonderful parent who had a lot to contribute, and if it hadn't been for our lack of time together at that point, I probably would have allowed him to impregnate me right then. The truth was, ever since he had put the idea into my head, I had imagined all stages of carrying his child: giving birth, holding the baby in my arms, designing their nursery.

Plenty had to happen first, though. Chris and I had to stabilize in our relationship, we had to decide on a home to live in, we had to agree on where to raise our children, how many to have, when to get married, how to coexist without unintentionally hurting one another, and a whole plethora of stuff. It hurt my head to think about, but even though I knew we needed more time, a small piece of me didn't want to wait. Whenever the urge arose, I would shake it away like a feather stuck to a nightgown. Our plans for the future had to wait. They had to.

I hopped into the driver's seat while Chris unloaded the groceries into the back of the vehicle, and when he was inside with me, I backed out of our space. We were home in a flash, and I had made Chris happy by getting in more driving practice in Winnipeg. It wasn't all that different from driving back home, but I appreciated that he wanted me to know my way around. He cared so much about me. I could feel his love radiating through me, and I wasn't always sure what I had done to earn that from him, but I was beyond thankful it was there.

Hastily, we put away everything that had to be frozen or refrigerated at home, then we sat to enjoy our hot food. Chris plopped down beside me on a stool at the raised portion of his kitchen counter and we feasted on the chicken and fries. I felt his eyes on me as I ate, and he grabbed my hand at one point, licking chicken grease, crumbs, and ketchup off my fingers one at a time, which made desire swirl within me under my waistband. With my fingers sucked clean, Chris took it upon himself to dirty only his hands, feeding me small bites of food from my plate and his.

When my belly was full and he brought another fry to my mouth, I shook my head but made sure to thank him. He nodded back and placed the fry into his own mouth, chewing for just a short while before puckering his lips and kissing the breath out of me. I held on tightly to him after our mouths parted and kept my arms draped around his neck while he ate around my body. One thing I always loved about being with Chris, especially after the first time we had broken up, was that he made me feel so desired.

I felt sexy, seductive, and tempting whenever I was left alone in a room with him, because he looked at me like a cat spying a mouse; he always wanted to pounce. I can admit now that I was worried back then. I wondered if we had too much sex, if our relationship was based far more on physical attraction than anything else. Chris had an amazing sex drive and he wanted me all the time, and I do mean all the damn time. I was resting on his chest when I first felt his hands wandering to my pants, undoing my belt buckle.

"Tonight," I whispered, swatting his hands away.

"Now," he demanded, going back in for the kill. I grabbed his wrists and carried on pretending I was only teasing him, but looking back, I think I was afraid of all the physical contact. I didn't know what to do with it. Maybe I still didn't fully trust him, so every time he touched me, in the back of my mind, I wondered if it was because he truly wanted it or because he was using me while I was around, just biding his time until he could dump me in a more horrific way than he had the first go-round.

I giggled nervously when he fought off my hands. When my head left his chest, he met my gaze and smirked at me, his eyes glinting off the daylight streaming in through the open curtains. "Quit it."

"Why?" he asked. "I know you love this."

"Let's go watch a movie."

"I'm bored of watching fucking movies," Chris growled, unfastening the clasp on my belt. He opened the button holding my pants in place and drew my zipper down. My heart picked up speed, my throat closing in and making me feel like I was choking. My eyes watered. "That's all we ever do."

"Having sex is all we ever do," I pointed out. "Just wait until tonight."

"Why? It's way more fun than watching movies," Chris said, smiling wickedly. He shoved his hands inside my pants, down the front of my panties, and I snapped.

"I said no!" I shouted.

His eyes snapped wide open when I tugged out of his grip. I wanted to tell him what was bothering me, but I guess I didn't have the verbal skills to do so. It was like there was some disconnect between the thoughts in my brain and the words that were actually coming out of my mouth. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't him, that I still had leftover emotional baggage, but I didn't. Instead, I zipped up and buttoned my pants and rushed out of the room, up the stairs, and into the bedroom we had shared since the day I moved in. I slammed the door and fell down on top of the bed, landing on my stomach.

I didn't bother engaging the lock because I expected Chris to be pissed. I anticipated him staying downstairs, or possibly even leaving the house to get away from me. I thought for sure the last thing he would want to do was be close to me. But Chris was always surprising me, evolving as a man in ways I hadn't thought possible. No more than a couple minutes had passed before I heard the knob turn, the door creaking open on its hinges. It was only another set of seconds before the bed dipped under his weight and his hand lowered onto my back.

Rubbing the spot between my shoulder blades for a short while, Chris then curled up into bed and held me as best he could from the awkward position I was lying in. I rolled onto my side to make it easier for him to hug me and he kissed the back of my neck, earning a sigh out of me. Chris smoothed my hair back behind my ear and kissed me right behind the same ear. "I'm sorry, Steph. You know I'd never want to hurt you or make you feel like I was forcing myself onto you. That's not my style."

"It's okay. It's not you."

"You want to tell me what's really wrong?" he quizzed, after a brief moment of silence. "Are you unhappy living here with me?"

"No."

"Have I been hurting you in bed?"

"No, gosh, it's not that!" I huffed.

"Well, don't get mad at me for not knowing what this is about when you're the one who's not talking to me. I don't read minds. If you want me to know, you have to come out with it."

He was right. I turned around in his arms so that we were facing one another, and I used my right hand to draw lines on his face, following the natural curves of his features as well as the paths created by his scars. Each time my fingers neared his mouth, he pressed a kiss to my skin, which made me smile. That, in turn, made him smile. "I'm not a good talker. I know what's bothering me, but I don't know how to make you understand it."

"Try me," Chris said. He stroked my back. "I like to think I'm a pretty easy guy to get through to. Whatever it is, I'll do my best to understand."

"You're going to be mad," I hesitated.

"Sweetheart, look at my face," Chris said. His eyes softened as he held my gaze. He used his thumb to trace over my lips, first the bottom, then the top. "Do I look like someone who could ever stay mad at you? You're the reason I get out of bed every morning and am actually happy about it. You're the reason I keep going even when I'm tired, the reason I work on myself every day. Everything I do anymore is for you. You're my life, and I want to keep it this way. I can't afford to make you upset and not fix it."

"Yeah?" I asked, my grin expanding.

"Yeah," Chris laughed, running his finger down my nose. "I've always wanted someone to love and take care of and I feel like I have that now, for the first time ever, since you came to live with me. I have a higher purpose and a bigger reason for being alive. I've got this beautiful woman who loves me, and who I love back just as much, and all I keep thinking about is making sure you're fed, clothed, sheltered, protected, and happy. I love having you here and being the man who provides for you. You make me feel like a king. I hope I make you feel like a queen, because if I don't, I'm not doing my job."

"You do make me feel like a queen. I love you."

"I love you," Chris said. He leaned in and paused, as if to ask whether or not I was okay with a kiss. I responded by closing the gap between us and he slipped his tongue into my mouth, kissing me long, hard, and breathless. When we pulled apart, I touched his cheek.

"Not all the time, but sometimes, Chris, I don't trust you."

"You still don't trust me?" he asked. His face fell, almost making me feel bad for opening up to him to begin with, but this was a talk that had to happen. It couldn't wait any longer.

"It's what happened, the whole thing where we had sex the first time and you broke up with me the next day. That was a long time ago, but it still scares me," I admitted. "I think about it all the time, even when I don't want to. I guess there's a part of me that still wonders if this is all an act, like, you know, if you're still tricking me to get back at my dad or something."

"Your dad doesn't even know we're together, baby. Don't you think the first thing I would do, if I were after revenge, would be to run and tell him about us? But have I done that?" I shook my head. "Exactly, I haven't, because I don't care what anybody else thinks. I'm with you because I did a fucked up thing and tried to get revenge, but in doing so, somewhere along the way, I fell in love for real. You're my heart and my soul, Stephanie. I'd never lie to you about that."

"I know. It's just scary," I shrugged, staring at his shirt. I felt the brutal honesty welling up within me, and while I'm not a person who shares too terribly much about myself right away, I felt confident enough to reveal my truest self to Chris. If anyone would appreciate my efforts, he would. "I'm insecure, and I take to guys quicker than I should sometimes, and I take sex as a sign of love between me and a man, even when he's not in it for love and just wants to bang me and throw me away. I've been there before. Did you know...I...when I first started working for Dad..."

"What?"

"Paul."

"Paul?"

"Hunter," I said, dropping another clue.

"Trips?" Chris clarified.

"Yeah, him."

"What about him?"

"I thought, after we started that marriage storyline, that he and I were real friends. Things progressed, we started hanging out a lot behind-the-scenes, and we even shared private jet rides together. He was one of the few guys my dad would even let on the company jet," I shared. My fingers and toes were trembling. I didn't know how Chris would take the news, but I had to tell him. "One night, he stayed late after a show, and we were in his private dressing room together. We were only talking, or, that's how it started out, but then he kissed me, and the kiss progressed to touching, and then he was undressing me and I was undressing him."

"You've got to be kidding me," Chris said, his brows raised as high as they would go. He certainly didn't look happy. I don't think he liked the idea of my being with Paul at all, but he also had that jealous look on his face, like he didn't enjoy knowing Paul had had me first.

"We had sex for the first time about a year after we initially started working together, and it wasn't even super romantic or anything. It was on the floor in his dressing room, and he didn't look at me or ask if I was okay during it. He just, like, he hid his face kind of against my collarbone and just went to town. There was no passion or rhythm or kissing or anything. He just...fucked me." I teared up without meaning to, my lips quivering, and Chris hugged me close. "I knew it wasn't right, Chris. I knew it wasn't real love — that he just wanted to see if he could get to the company through me — but I kept doing it over and over again, hoping he would eventually love me as much as I felt like I loved him."

"And did that happen?"

"No," I said, "it didn't, but I kept going back to him. I was weak, and I've always been weak, because I have zero confidence in any part of my life that doesn't have to do with work. Even work, lately, just hasn't been the same either."

I let out a tearful gasp, and Chris pulled me into his arms, kissing me all over the top and side of my head. "I'm so sorry you felt like that. You're beautiful, Steph, and you don't need to even think that way. You're better and stronger than to subject yourself to that BS. I know this was a long time ago, but still."

"My dad pushed me to him. Dad has always liked Paul because Paul's super into the business like him, and he kept telling me I needed a guy like Paul in my life, but, I don't know, it was weird, because even though he made it clear I wasn't allowed to date the wrestlers, it's almost like he was still trying to put subliminal messages in my head that being with Paul was the right thing." I crossed my arms defiantly. "When I finally broke it off with Paul and Dad threw a fit about it, I told him he could go date Paul if he loved him so much."

"Wouldn't that be a sight to see?" Chris chuckled.

I ignored his joke. "You asked me the other day why I waited 15 years to talk to you. You asked why it was so hard for me to just stop and say 'hi' to you once in a while, and I think maybe now I know. Maybe I was lonely and scared and hurt, and I just wanted a friend; it just so happened that it took me 15 years to gain the confidence to seek one out. Maybe, Chris, you and I aren't all that different from one another. I think we were both wounded and hurting, not for the same reasons, but maybe I just needed someone and you were there sitting in that hallway, so I sought you out. And maybe that spur-of-the-moment decision was the greatest thing I've ever done, because it led me to this relationship with you. Besides Mikey, you're the first man I've ever dated who I think might actually be with me because of genuine love and not just because you're using me for your own benefit."

"Steph..." Chris tried to interrupt, but I shook my head.

"I'm scared. I don't know for sure if you're still trying to get back at me and my family or if you truly love me. Ever since I moved here, we've had sex every night, which is fine, because I love being with you and at least you look me in the eyes when we make love, but it feels like a lot. It feels excessive, like you're making it a point to have sex with me rather than letting it happen in the moment. I want you to do it because you love me, and not because you're keeping a tally of how many times we do this so you can go and shove it back into my dad's face someday."

"But I don't — "

"Stop," I demanded, sliding my index finger over his lips to shush him. "Let me finish. I'm not a secure person. I get hurt easily, I take a lot personally, I secretly hold grudges, and I don't put myself out there a whole lot. All the times in my past when I've given my all to people, they've let me down, except for you and Mikey, and so I don't trust that many people anymore. If I make a move like this, if I leave my own hometown to live with someone in another country, that's a big deal. That says a lot about how I feel about that person. It's not something I do just for the hell of it, and neither is taking a leave of absence from my career, so I hope you know that and appreciate it."

"I do."

"When I give myself to someone like this, when I merge my life with theirs, it's not to be taken lightly. I don't do this, and even Mikey couldn't convince me to move in with him. I just either invited him to my place or visited him at his. I've never lived with a guy before this, but I'm searching for something right now. I'm hurt, and I'm torn, and I'm waiting to see if you'll be the man who finally gives me the life I've always dreamed of. So far, it seems like you will, but I can't say for sure. So if you want to know why I didn't talk to you for all those years, that's why. I was struggling with my own stuff, dealing with my own insecurities, and trying to make it through. I'm sorry I couldn't open up my heart back then and find a place in it for you, but there's a place there now, and I want you in it forever. If you're doing all of this as revenge to hurt me or get back at my dad, just tell me now so I can go back home and be depressed about it on my own time."

Chris spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes gleaming with pain. "I would never, ever betray you like that again. I love you so much it hurts. I would die without you, Stephanie, and if you still doubt that, then I need to work harder to prove myself to you. I'm so sorry you were hurt, but I don't want to pay for the mistakes of every random jackass who came before me, and I certainly don't want to pay for the old me who broke your heart. I'm not that same guy who hurt you; I'm the new and improved me."

I nodded and swiped at my eyes. "Downstairs, it wasn't that I didn't want you to touch me. I just felt like the touching thing was happening a lot, and I didn't want you to do it if you had ulterior motives."

"I don't. How can I prove that to you any more than I already have?"

"Time, I guess," I replied. I felt nauseous and hot. Getting my past off my chest was great, but now I was filled with dread that Chris would run with my little secret and tell everyone. I could almost picture him howling with his friends and family over beers and bratwursts while he reported to them about how Paul had used me up and spat me out. "Don't, um...don't, like, repeat this or tell anyone. It's not something I care for anybody else to know about. I've never told anyone besides my parents about Paul, so, yeah, I'd appreciate if you wouldn't spread it around."

Chris's mouth dropped open. "You think you have to warn me not to tell anyone? You really think I would go around spreading your business?"

"I don't know anymore, because I've trusted so many people and they've hurt me so bad."

"What can I do so you'll know I'm for real?" Chris asked. He was desperate. I heard it in the rawness of his tone, saw it in the narrowing of his eyes. "How else can I prove myself to you?"

"I think I need time," I repeated. I wiped my eyes again. I wasn't actually crying, but my vision was hazy. "I'm sure you doubt certain things about me, too, and still don't understand why I never spoke a single word to you all those years ago. Maybe you accept my explanation, maybe you don't. Either way, we both have some proving of ourselves to do, so, yeah, time is what we need."

"Steph, baby, we don't have to have sex," Chris said, his eyes wide and sad like an abandoned puppy dog. My heart ached for him. He was taking this harder than I had imagined. "I won't fucking touch you at all when we get in bed at night, if it makes you feel better. I can still be affectionate during the day without sex. I can hold you, hug you, kiss you, hold your hand, and everything else, and that works for me. If you want the sex to stop until I prove myself, we can do that. I'll stop. Just say the word, and I'll stop, because you're more than worth it. The sex is great, but it's not why I'm with you. I'm with you because you make my heart whole. I'm not the same person without you that I am with you. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it."

"I need for us to be friends."

"Friends?" Chris choked out, stricken. He began shaking his head like a madman, eyes wild with panic. "No, please don't do this. The entire point of you moving here was for us to be together. I can't lose you again. God, I need you, Stephanie. Please."

I managed a smile with my mouth closed, which puzzled Chris even more. Playing with a few locks of fluffy, blond hair on his head, I said, "I didn't mean I wanted us to break up, silly. I meant that I need for us to have a genuine friendship. Yes, we live together, we're dating, and we're in love, but I need us to be best friends. That's the foundation. So, you asked what I need, and I'm telling you. I need you to work with me on rebuilding our friendship."

"I will, I will," Chris said. "I'll do anything."

"And also, I don't want the sex to stop, but I don't like how it's a nightly thing on cue. It's like you've made it part of your bedtime routine, like, 'Okay, I have to go upstairs, brush my teeth, wash my face, get undressed, and have sex with my girlfriend.' It's not cool," I explained. "So, sex is still a go, but all I ask is that you let it happen naturally. Don't make it a thing on your to-do list. Just seduce me whenever you happen to be into it, and if I'm in the mood, we'll have some fun. If I'm ever not in the mood, try not to take it personally. Sometimes I just want to be left to my own devices, but it has nothing to do with you."

"That's good to know," Chris said, releasing a sigh of relief. He brought my right hand to his mouth and kissed my fingers. "You are so special to me. You'll see me for who I am, Steph, and you're going to like it because I'm a good guy deep down in there, and once you know that for yourself and all the doubts are gone, I'm going to marry you. And after I marry you," he slid his free hand over my stomach, "we're going to have some babies, and we're going to have a wonderful life together up here. We can even split time between here and Connecticut and raise the kids in both places so they get a taste of what both of our lives are like."

He was always so sweet like that, planning for the future all on his own. It comforted me that he had even thought that far ahead. "I guess you have it all worked out, don't you?"

Chris nudged me until I rolled onto my back again and he rolled on top of me, kissing the side of my neck. Against my skin, he whispered, "Didn't I tell you you're all I ever think about? I hope now you know I meant it."

"What will our babies names be?" I asked next. I should mention that I was only ribbing him. I didn't actually expect that he would have thought hard enough to have come up with names. Once again, I thought wrong. Chris lifted his head to look at me, and I cupped his bumpy cheek.

"I like Nolan for a boy, and Nicole for a girl."

"Oh yeah?"

"What do you think?" he asked, almost a little too eagerly. I was content to humor him, though.

"I think they're cute names, sweetie," I said, rubbing his hair. "You'll have to give me a Nolan and a Nicole someday."

"I will," he promised.

Roughly one year after this conversation took place, Chris impregnated me with our first child.