Disclaimer: I do not own Jay "Christian" Reso or anything that pertains to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am not profiting from writing this piece.

I thought I could pretend. I thought I could go to the beach, stick my toes in the sand, plaster on a smile, and then everything would appear right in my world. Wrong. As I watched Jay playing with Chris's children, all I could do was picture him playing with his own son or daughter—the son or daughter that was the carbon copy of him and Heather. I would be forced to stomach that for the rest of my life, but I didn't have to stomach it today. I could leave. I could go home, curl up in my bed, watch a black and white film, and temporarily forget this day.

"Are you feeling all right?" Rosalind asked. She was lying next to me, on a beach towel, under the giant umbrella. "You look a little flushed."

"Actually, no I'm not," I answered, trying to force a smile but it ended up being one of those awkward, lopsided grins. "I think I may call it a day. All this salty ocean air is making me nauseous."

"Oh…all right. Let me get Chris. He can give you a ride home."

"No, no," I said as I stood up and shook the sand off of my legs. "Let him have his time with his kids. I'll see if Heather can give me a ride."

I scanned the shore for Heather, but there was no sign of her.

"Wait…Where is she?"

"I think she went to her car to check on Josh. He wasn't feeling well, either. With my luck, I've given everyone food poisoning; and then Josh and his hair will sue me for everything I don't have."

I looked back at her and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"The food was phenomenal, Rosalind," I said, "And if Stamos tries to sue you, I'll just pony up some phony debts that he owes and blackmail him for the rest of his life. However, I don't think that will be necessary. Chris will take him out before I get the chance."

Rosalind glanced at Chris and smiled. He was walking along the edge of the shore. Ash was on his shoulders.

I smiled at her.

It must have been nice to have the man of her dreams right at her fingertips. It must have been nice to have everything. Despite the fact that he already had three children from his previous marriage, I could sense that at least two more were on the horizon. Marriage for Rosalind and Chris was evitable. Then their seemingly flawless relationship would have its perfect ending…or beginning depending on how one looked at it. It made me ill at the thought. The prince and the princess would have a life ripped straight out of a romance novel. Meanwhile, I would gain forty pounds in ten years time and be known on my block as that eccentric lady that adopts kittens in an effort to fill the void of her childless existence.

"Right…well…" I began, upon snapping out of my delusional prediction of my future. "I'm going to go see if she'll give me a ride. Could you tell Jay that I said bye and that I'll try to call him later?"

Rosalind nodded. "Of course…I hope you feel better soon. Again, Happy Thanksgiving…"

"Yeah," I forced a smile, "Happy Thanksgiving."

I gathered what little belongings I had and trudged up the sandy hill, toward the parking-lot.

As I slowly approached the parking area, I could make out two figures leaning against the Resos' vehicle. Heather and Josh appeared to be in a rather heated conversation. It wasn't until I got a little closer that I could hear what was being said. I stopped in my tracks.

"You really should have told me," Josh spat.

"I was going to."

"Yeah…it really looks like you were. What was the plan here, Heather? Were you just going to hope to hell that kid looks nothing like me and that I was going to keep my mouth shut and let you and this guy go about your lives? I'm getting sick of this hot and cold shit. You either want to be with me or you don't. Which is it?"

"You're twenty-four years old and a god damned bank teller for Christ's sake, Josh. There is no way you could provide for this baby."

"Oh, so this is about money, is it? Jesus, Heather could you be any more materialistic. Those nights when you're at home alone, who fed you? Who let you stay over at his apartment? You're telling me you would rather wallow in solitary confinement than be with someone. You said it yourself. Jay's never around."

My mouth hung open. This couldn't be Heather, not the Heather that I knew. The Heather that I knew worshipped the ground Jay walked on. She would never cheat on him; especially with a pompous ass like Josh. I had two choices to make: I could make my presence known and jump into the middle of something I had no business being in, or make my presence known and rip out Heather's hair extensions one by one.

No. I would do neither. I would retreat. I would slowly back away and then run like hell. I would run back to Jay—I would protect Jay. Just because I couldn't have my happy ending didn't mean that he shouldn't have his. He wanted that baby; and if I had any say, he would have that baby. Jay could not go through what Chris went through. I wasn't going to let him. So I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

"Trashcan, I need a trashcan," I said to the man that was manning the concession stand. I was panting and dry-heaving simultaneously.

The man quickly handed me the small trashcan behind the bar. In front of several costumers and a few people passing by, I vomited.

"Hey, kid."

I jerked my head up to meet Jay's concerned gaze. I bit my lip. His lean, damp, muscular physique was glistening in the afternoon sun. I ducked my head back into the trashcan.

"Rosalind said you were sick. Did you not find Heather and Stamos?"

"I did," I replied, looking sheepishly up at him.

"Is she giving you a ride home or do I need to?"

"I changed my mind," I answered. "I'm fine. I want to stay awhile longer."

That was laughable—just like the expression across Jay's face.

"You don't look fine," he said.

"Nonsense," I laughed, handing the concession man the trashcan full of my Thanksgiving feast. "I was just preparing myself for a career in fashion modeling."

Jay raised a brow and smirked.

"I see…Or is that your cover-story for being pregnant, too?" he laughed tensely. "Please, tell me you're not. I don't think I could wrap my head around it, if you were."

"No," I replied with a faint laugh. "I'm not pregnant."

"Good." He breathed a sigh of relief. He gestured to the concession stand. "Can I get you anything? Water? Sprite?"

I shook my head, which didn't help the nausea. "Although, I can't lie, a cold compress would be pretty awesome."

Jay pursed his lips, thought for a moment, and then ran his hand through his wet hair. He waved that hand rapidly through the air.

I eyed him, confused.

"Come here," he said, opening his arm free arm to me.

I knew getting close to him was a bad idea, but my legs have a mind of their own. I stepped into his embrace. The open arm latched around my waist.

"I don't have a cold compress, but maybe this'll help." He said as he pressed the hand he had been shaking to my forehead. It was damp and cool.

My knees buckled.

"Feel better?" he asked, his chest vibrating against my shoulder.

"S-sure," was all I could manage to get out.

He grinned and guided my head to rest against his shoulder.

"We can take a walk around the shore until you get to feeling better," he suggested and coerced me into moving. With my head on his shoulder and hand his still on my forehead, we slowly walked back to the beach.