One More Chance
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. –pouts- All characters are property of WWE and themselves.

I'm pathetic. I must be... if I wasn't, I wouldn't let him do this to me. I wouldn't be sitting on the floor of my hotel room, blubbering like a little baby, watching the minutes slowly creep by on my cell phone. I would never admit it to myself, but I'm praying for him to call. Despite the fact that I hate him right now, he's my life, and I miss him.

"Damn thing doesn't even have service down here."

Though part of me wishes that I could convince myself that he was trying to call, and that he simply could not get through, I know better. After a fight of the magnitude of the one we had earlier tonight, there was no way he could do such a thing as call and apologize. It was far too humbling for a man with such pride. Of course, it's not as though I'm in a hurry to call him, either. My courage is about the size of my pinky. So instead, I'll sit here and wait, refusing to wipe away any of the tears that manage to leak from my blinking eyes.

I can't believe I let him do this to me again. Our arguments were always the same.. It's not that our love isn't strong - I'd have given up on him a long time ago if I wasn't head over heels in love - but, our personalities clash. He's too damn even-tempered, that's the problem. If I so much as let on that I may be getting worked up over something, he gives me that look - that 'This is not worth your time and energy' face. It's completely condescending, and I hate it...

But he's right.

I take the word passionate to a whole new level, especially when it comes to issues concerning our relationship. I just can't keep my emotions from him. If I feel like I'm being neglected or taken for granted - which, in tonight's case, I was in an overwhelming way - I can't keep it a secret. But when I bring it to his attention, he shrugs it off.

"You're overreacting, babe," he'd said, his voice so nonchalant I nearly wanted to vomit. "Just because I'm not spending ever waking minute of the day with you does not mean I'm ignoring you."

Maybe I sound a little selfish, but trust me, I'm no more so than the average woman. All I was is to love and be love.

I'm there for him unconditionally. If he needs me, I'm there, no questions asked. Yet, when I'm the one in need, I have to fit myself into his schedule? Am I not of enough importance to him? I'd give my life for him, and at times it seems he'd barely be willing to part with his damn Rolex for me.

I can't take the constant change of emotions. The man has so many mood swings, one would think he was pregnant. He's open and loving one day, and then getting words from him the next is like pulling teeth, and feeding for emotions is even worse.

A knock at the door draws me out of the clouded fog of thought, and my head snaps in the direction of the door. Could it be? Not allowing myself to be too eager - I've learned excitement and anticipation are key factors in a let down - I slowly pushed myself off the floor. I could feel myself shaking as I walk to the door, brushing away any tears that were still lingering on my cheeks. So much for not being anxious.

I swung the door open, though in my mind it seemed to slowly creak open for ages. Sure enough, there he was. The sight alone of him standing before me, his hands loosely tucked into the pockets of his slacks, his pale bule shirt half tucked in, made me want to melt. He winced as a fresh stream of tears filled my eyes. He never was good at handling tears.

"Don't," he spoke softly as a single tear traced down my cheek. "Please... don't cry."

Apparently, he wasn't aware that such a command was a direct signal for the opposite - that being the water works - to occur. I bit my lip hard, painfully fighting the sob that was just begging to escape my throat. The look on his face changed from concerned to frightened to a mix of both, and his immediate reaction was to push his way into the room, ushering me back in as well. We took a seat on a nearby couch and I placed my head on his chest. A small part of me felt guilty for the tears that were soaking through the thin material of his shirt, but the concerns fluttered away when he wrapped his arm around me, holding me tightly to him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his free hand coming up to stroke my hair.

"No, Randy, it's okay," I assured him. "You were right, I overreacted. I was just feeling a little neglected."

"You shouldn't have to feel that way," Randy replied, and I could sense that his heart was starting to beat slightly faster than normal. "I've never claimed to be good with this relationship stuff, but any idiot should be able to see that you deserve much more than what I'm giving you."

I reluctantly pull away, eyeing him intently. It'd be much easier to stay mad if he didn't look so damn cute.

"It's not so much that you're not giving me what I deserve, it's that I never know when to expect it. You're so unpredictable when it comes to your emotions, Randy. I just can't take the hot and cold, ya know?"

Right now, what I want more than anything in the world is to have gotten my point across. I don't need him to agree, or to even comply at the moment... I just want him to see where I'm coming from. Too many times we've ended up on the wrong page; I just want an understanding.

"I know, and you're right. You're always right. It's just, I'm not good at this, you know that. I need your help, Stace. Show me how to make this work. Teach me how to treat you as wonderfully as you treat me," he replied.

He drew his gaze to mine, our eyes meeting for the first time since he'd come back. I could see the sincerity - plain as day, no doubt - in his beautiful blue eyes and - despite my watering eyes - I smile.

"If you're really willing to do everything possible to make this work, I'd be more than happy to give you the chance to do so," I said, taking Randy's hand into my own.

He squeezed my hand gently, leaning forward to press a soft, tender kiss to my forehead.

"Give me that chance, Stacy Keibler, and I promise to make you the happiest woman on earth."