Disclaimer: We don't own the characters or real people in this story. The characters are owned by the WWE and the people own themselves, but if we did own them, we'd make that pretty Stephanie person kiss that hot Chris person and then live happily ever after.

A/N: So, this is posted under my account, but it's not just mine! Jodi (StephanieIrvine) and I were talking and having a conversation about Chris having two phones and sometimes we'll write little snippets of stories. Anyways, this one ended up being an actual story. So, instead of keeping our crazy conversations to ourselves like we normally do (in order to spare everyone our insanity), we're posting it here for your reading enjoyment! There was no set guidelines, just wrote what we felt like.

So hopefully you like it and reviews are totally taken home, hugged, petted, and taken care of like one of our own. We don't mind brutal, if you want to be, go right ahead. We've never written together before so we hope it meshes well, but if it doesn't, let us know, we want to know! Anyways, enjoy and see if you can guess who wrote which parts! :)

He kept them both by his bedside, one beside the other, like they were organized somehow, when in reality, he was hardly organized about this. Affairs were strange, they were more plotted out than an actual relationship. There were secret words, stares, meetings, all needed to be coordinated like some strange puppet show. There was no spontaneity to it, it was all planned, detailed, outlined. So having his phones so neat belied the messiness of an affair and maybe, just maybe, that's why he mixed up the phones.

Jessica was to the left and Stephanie to the right, her phone always closer to him, which was slipping into reality too. He hadn't anticipated it, it was more a natural progression - what with him spending more time around her than at home and those lingering stares that always lead to something more, it was truly impossible to let her slip from his mind when he was mid-conversation with his wife. He'd remember her eyes and the way they'd darkened as he trailed kisses all over her body or the way her gasps caught in her throat when his hands teasingly drifted down her sides and he couldn't silence her voice calling out his name. Maybe it was these sort of distractions that caused him to mix up his phones.

He'd chosen the iPhone for Stephanie. He didn't know why, flashier maybe, cooler, more fun. The Blackberry was Jessica, utilitarian, useful, and a little more complicated. When he wanted Stephanie, he'd just pick up his phone, click a couple buttons and he was with her, wherever he was and she was never too far away. Not many buttons separated him from Stephanie while many separated him from Jessica, small buttons, ones much too tiny for his calloused, wrestle-stained hands. Maybe he wanted those extra moments though, those extra seconds where his mind could change and instead of talking to her, he would put down that phone and find himself less than a push away from Stephanie and the phone was in his hand and he was already talking to her, that other phone pushed away to the corner of his nightstand, forgotten until it buzzed and beeped and informed him that he had forgotten his husbandly duty of calling her to say goodnight. Goodnights seemed so unimportant when Stephanie's raspy laughter (raspy because she'd been yelling at someone all night) floated into his brain.

It was easy to ignore his Blackberry as it lay forgotten on his bedside table, blending in with the color until it was almost invisible, there was no sleek design that caused his hand to itch and reach out for it to answer her call, no excitement that bubbled up inside him desperate to hear what she said. It was the same every night: Kidz miss u, nite. Whereas his iPhone held secrets that kept the embers burning in the pit of his stomach, secrets he was glad were kept hidden behind a lock. I miss your hands. I had this dream about you last night, it was...interesting ;-) I just spilled coke on my t-shirt, I'm a dork. Thank you for the flower, I love daisies xxx. They caused his embers to flair and burn brighter and more often than not he would read them over and over until his eyes dropped and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

And sometimes, he would wake up and the phone would be in his hand and he could pretend for a few moments that she was there with him. Sometimes she spent the night, but that was when he was on SmackDown. She'd tell Paul that she was needed on the other show and that he could go home. He'd be reluctant, but he would always go and though he was never there to actually see it, Chris always pictured her heaving a sigh of relief. She was being granted a moment's respite from the man she had so erroneously married years before. He often wanted to ask her why, but he never did. They had so few moments together he would rather spend them lavishing her with love than berating her decisions. Sometimes, she would even convince him to let the girls stay and instead of passionate lover, Chris was allowed to assume another role, a role he was born to play. He was allowed to be their father.

Father was a role he thrived in, yes, he had three children with Jessica and he loved them very much, but Aurora and Murphy, he hadn't been there for the big moments - he hadn't seen their first step or heard their first word - so he lived off of the small moments they gave him. There were nights when Murphy wouldn't settle and Chris would lay with her on the sofa of whichever hotel room they were in, her head resting on his chest as he sang softly to her, songs he adapted to his own. "I wish that you were Daddy's girl, where can I find a girl, where can I find a girl like you." and she'd fall right to sleep. Aurora was older and if there was one thing she wanted more than ice cream after bed time it was her father, so while she clung to him when he said goodbye to them and he watched the tears fall down her face he'd take her in his arms and make her the same promise he always did when it was time to say goodbye and each time it broke his heart a little more. "Remember the stars, baby? Remember every time you look up that daddy loves you. I want you to count all the stars, every single one and remember that's how much daddy loves you and don't worry if you can't count them all, it just means I love you forever." Stephanie was always good at sending him pictures of the girls as well as herself and he'd be a fool if he didn't admit that his phone held his entire life, he just wished sometimes he could have the reality of what his phone held and that those pictures he stared at every day included him in some way.

Sometimes, he'd mentally insert himself in them, find a place in the empty spaces around them where he could settle his own image. A picture of Stephanie and the girls at the beach, Aurora and Murphy with matching pink floppy hats, both with the word "Princess" embossed in magenta on top and white zinc on their noses, his noses. The two of them sandy, but happy, smiles wide and Stephanie behind them, her stomach rounding with pregnancy and her hands on each of the girl's shoulders as she smiled widely. He'd be right next to her, his arm around her shoulder and his hand on Aurora's shoulder. Maybe Aurora would even be looking at him. Sometimes she just looked at him and he would ask her what was up, buttercup, causing her to giggle and she'd ask the same thing, "Why don't you live with us?" He wanted to explain how complicated it was, but her three year old brain wasn't quite that advanced yet, so he would simply tell her, "I will someday." It was something he had to cling to when he was lonely, when he was missing Stephanie and the girls, when he saw his kids with Jessica and tried to insert one brunette angel and a little blonde pixie into the bunch. Someday it could happen, someday his life would not be contained to a phone, mere pictures and voices, but real tangible things he could hold and love openly.

And maybe that was the real reason he mixed up his phones, he wanted it all out there in the open but he was too cowardly to take what he wanted in fear of upsetting the balance of things. So maybe, just maybe he had a burst of courage and when he lifted his iPhone under the pretence of texting Stephanie, he knew it was his Blackberry - really they weren't that hard to mix up - and when he typed out that message, that damning message that would out him to the world he no longer belonged to, he knew what he was doing. He knew 'I've loved you from the moment I saw you baking browines for you dad and I on my first meeting.' would set him free. Damn the repercussions.

He could blame it on his sleepiness, it'd been four in the morning and Stephanie had texted him that Murphy couldn't sleep and maybe if he sang to her, it would help. He'd called her up and sang to her, soft words and then Stephanie came back on to thank him and tell him she loved him. He'd sleepily told her goodnight and only a few minutes after setting his phone down, he'd remembered that he hadn't repeated her token of affection. He grabbed blindly at his phone and pressed the damning message. His eyes tired, bleary, and his body weary, he sent it, his words were airwaves now and soon they'd be pinging and not for the one they were intended to and he didn't realize at all. He'd closed his eyes, smiling dreamily, hoping that Queen Mab, she the fairy of dreams, would let him remember that moment, walking into the kitchen just as she was pulling a hot pan out of the oven and catching the side of her wrist on the hot oven grill. She'd hissed in pain and, whatever compelled him he thanked them later, he'd rushed to her side before she could drop the pan altogether and guided it towards the counter as he grabbed her wrist and gently put it under some running water.

"So you don't get a scar," he'd told her as she looked up and into his eyes, surprise. Surprise, she later told him, because she didn't think the blue of his eyes existed in nature.

Yes, he longed to dream and his eyes drooped until he heard that familiar ping of his phone and sighed. Jessica, always Jessica in the way.

Maybe it was the time difference that let her read that text the instant he sent it, maybe she'd had a late night partying and she'd checked her phone to see the time and noticed a text from her husband and frowned. He could see it the same way he'd looked up and seen her making out with some random guy at his concert: she'd push someone away laughingly, maybe with a flirty smile promising them more if they brought her another drink, and reach for her phone she kept in her back pocket to check the time to see if she'd missed the chance to call her kids at her parents and wish them goodnight - dawn was lighting up the sky of course she had - and see the message she'd missed over the pounding of the music and she'd click it open and read it and her frown would deepen. They rarely told each other they loved the other these days so his proclamation of it would no doubt cause confusion.

Sometimes his life was that as well, he only found his reprieve in Stephanie and his daughters.

He picked up the phone, wondering and when he'd opened it, he read the text and it took him a few seconds for the truth to dawn on him like it did: What are you talking about?

He could lie, he'd been doing it for years now. He'd lied to Jessica, he'd lied to himself mostly, trying to ignore the bitterness when he thought about how his life turned out. He'd lie though, say that it was better this way, he got great kids, a great career, he didn't need more than this, except he did. He needed Stephanie and it was on those nights where he could hear the alcohol on Jessica's breath and could practically see the kisses and more she'd shared with other men that he really thought about how he lived a huge lie. He could continue this lie, of course, it would be so easy to just lie his way out of it. I'm starting a new storyline with Stephanie, we're thinking of lines to use during our promo. He could tell her that, she'd believe it and Stephanie had the power to make it happen or he could lie some more and tell her that it'd been dropped, that Paul had a problem with it. Jessica would believe it, it'd happened twice before and she'd laugh, not realizing that the laugh pained his heart and she'd say something blithe like, "Well, I guess third rejections a charm, right?" and she would never ask why he kept pushing that damn storyline except in passing as she breezes into the kitchen for another glass of wine, her crux.

Yes, lying would be so easy, but wouldn't the truth set him free? Isn't that what they said? So he picked up his phone and he started to press those buttons, thinking of the appropriate thing to say, but he could only think one thing: The truth.

She'd called him after that, but his mind couldn't handle her screech this early in the morning and he'd let the call go to voicemail. He waited, started a count in his head for how long it would take for his phone to chirp, he reached seven and the phone in his hand lights up, not surprisingly another text from the woman he doesn't want to hear from.

What is the truth Chris, because you are confusing the shit out of me.

There's that word again, and maybe it's the way the sun is rising in the sky, but his confusion is lifting and he's starting to see things with a new perspective, and this makes him bold.

The truth is the weight of the world Jessica, it's the little cracks in the pavement that people walk over in fear of causing someone pain. Hiding the truth is just as painful though, it's squeezing at my heart until it's pounding in my ears and I have to get it out, if I don't I'll turn into the lesser man I find staring back at me in the mirror.

Was he ready to finish that text off? Could he really end this facade he'd created so long ago?

He took a breath. Yes, yes he could.

I'm in love with someone else.

His thumb shook as he hit send, but he felt lighter, like maybe the world wasn't being pushed down onto his shoulders anymore.

He felt weighted down with anticipation though, like his body was hooked up to some electrical current and it was bursting through his veins. He could picture telling Stephanie and her voice, it would be shocked, surprised, but ultimately happy. Maybe she would leave Paul immediately, just stand up and declare that she was leaving and when he protested, brought up their daughters, this new baby, she could laugh and tell him they weren't his, that he was not the father and what might have seemed to bind them in the past was just a farce, like their entire marriage. He would find a house, he'd go to Connecticut and they'd find a house, enough room for all the kids, enough room for everyone and they'd shop for furniture together and everything would be perfect. It was going to be so good. He wanted to tell her now, he couldn't wait. He wanted it to be perfect, to tell her face to face, but could he really stand to wait that long when they were free, when their love didn't need to be buried under the rules of society?

You're WHAT! You son of a bitch.

He couldn't wait that long, he tossed his Blackberry aside - Jessica could wait - and he lifted his iPhone, and it was so easy to get to her number, he could navigate to it in his sleep - and if this turned out to be a dream then God could strike him down because his heart would break. He pressed call, because whereas he couldn't wait to tell her and had forgone telling her face to face, he needed to hear her voice, he needed to let it wash over him and breathe life back into him. So he listened to it ring and ring until finally she answered with a groggily "Hello?"

"Steph?" Was that his voice whispering?

"Chris? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry."

"Baby, what are you sorry for?"

"I didn't mean too, it was late and I reached for the wrong one and before I knew what had happened it had already sent."

"What had?"

"The truth."

"The truth?" She didn't understand. He couldn't blame her, it was still early where she was, she might have been asleep. Was Paul next to her? He didn't know nor did he care. He'd seen pictures of her with Paul just the other day, they'd been at a function for Linda, a celebration for her receiving the Republican nomination for the Senate. He loved that she was so supportive, especially because Stephanie usually voted Democrat (she'd confessed this to him like it was a deep, hidden secret). They'd all been there, Paul included, and he'd had to look at pictures of her, pregnant with his child, standing next to that man. He did notice the distance though, so maybe he wasn't in bed with her.

"I'm sorry, I just. It happened so fast. I grabbed the wrong phone, I texted her when I meant to text you," he told her. He tried to appear sad, remorseful, but the hope was creeping up in his voice.

"You...you mean you texted Jessica with something meant for me? What did you say?" Her voice was wavering a little.

"I told her I've loved you since the moment I walked in and saw you baking brownies," he told her, smiling again at the memory. If only he'd met Stephanie first.

"Chris," she gasped and he couldn't read it very well.

He wished he had waited now, until she was standing right in front of him, he could read her like a book. She was an enthralling read, you just had to get past the first couple of chapters to start the mystery that was Stephanie. He'd spent many nights tracing a finger down her spine and listened as she spilled her secrets hidden between the lines of daily dialogue and she'd given him a preview of where she wanted her life to lead. It was like this chapter in their lives was coming to an end and together they were starting a new one where the pages had yet to be written. Maybe it would be a romantic novel filled with a happy ending, he could live with a comedy of errors, but he wasn't ready for a tale of angst and woe.

"I'm so sorry." And he was, slightly, he could have handled this better, picked a better time than four in the morning.

"No..." Stephanie hesitated and he felt his world dim and the pages of his life start to burn. "...don't be."

"I..." he paused, his thoughts jumbled. "...are you okay with this?"

"You only did what I wasn't brave enough to do." She told him and he could her the lift at the end of her voice that told him she was smiling. He was smiling too, until he heard rustling on the end of the line and the smile faltered. Was that Paul? "I'm sorry baby, but someone wants to speak to their daddy."

"Hey sweetheart." he spoke down the line, his heart happy as he heard Aurora sleepily answer him back.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"When you coming home?" she wondered and he marvelled at her childlike innocence.

"Today."

Today always sounded better than someday.