3 March 2014, evening
Lola watched, terribly pleased by the mayhem unfolding. 'Randal looks good,' she thought. 'Huh, never thought I'd be saying that.'
"Hey, you want another Pepsi?" a voice called from the other room.
Her lips quirked into a small smile. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks."
And it was nice. He wasn't the only one who'd needed time to rest.
4 March, mid-morning
Lola heaved out a weary breath. "I know. I -" She pulled the phone from her ear for a second. "But . . . If you'd just let me explain . . . No. No, you're right." She glanced up see a pair of concerned eyes fixated on her. "Yes, it was selfish of me to walk away like that. Again . . . Please, please, if we could - Are . . ." A whimper escaped her lips as her face fell.
"What? What did he say?"
She could only shake her head. Her chest was heaving as she fought to maintain her composure.
Her friend squatted down in front of her. "He wouldn't listen. Couldn't understand why you left. Refused to so much as allow you to explain yourself."
She kept shaking her head. "He said he never wants to see me again. He seemed to forget I ended our affair months ago."
CM Punk scoffed. "You still seemed plenty cosy to me."
In that moment, the past few months caught up to her and she felt bereft of any strength. She was too exhausted to pretend she was okay. "You're right. We might not have been hm-hm for a while, but," she sighed, "he could still get to me the way no one else can. Knowing that he wants nothing to do with me . . . I've long since feared this day would come."
He didn't question her choice of words; she was in enough pain. "Hey, you'll get through this," he assured her. "It's not like he was your first -"
He was silenced by the look she shot him.
2:00 AM, 5 March 2014
She had memorised every tile on the floor, each shadow on the ceiling. No matter what she tried, she couldn't fall asleep. Counting sheep hadn't worked. Even the thought of warm milk made her sick.
Vince used to make her warm cocoa on nights like this.
She missed that man more than she cared to admit. What was she going to do now? The possibilities were endless, and that frightened her more than any threat she'd faced before.
"No," she whispered to the darkness. "Living without him . . . I've known him far too long -"
A sob stole her breath. "It's over. It's really over. All because of one stupid decision. How could I make such a foolish mistake? No. No. I'll simply have to, have to go to him, beg his forgiveness. Remind him of . . . If nothing else, I have to get -"
The light blinded her.
"Lola. Jeebus." He hadn't expected her to be so broken up by this. He crossed the room to take her in his arms. She struggled against him.
"No, Punk, I -" She fought down the tears and took a deep breath. "I need room to breathe. I need to think -oh! - I have to think about what I'm going to do next. Where I'll go."
He didn't like the sound of that. "Are you saying you might be leaving? How can you walk away from - from - from us?"
She took her time answering. "It's not . . . going to be easy . . . being around the man I love and . . . knowing . . . he . . ." She drew her knees up to her chest.
"It can't be as bad you're making it out to be."
"You didn't hear the way he spoke to me. He sounded - " Her face took on an odd pallor. "There was ice in his voice."
"Vince is anything but cold," he remarked. "If anything, he's -" He clamped a hand over his mouth.
If Vince McMahon had turned cold to Lola Spears, what might he do next?
