Kate sat in the plush, leather passenger's seat and stared out the window. For the last twenty-five minutes, they'd been relatively silent.

"So are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asked him, finally breaking the silence.

"Was that question just for the sake of talking or are you serious?" John smiled at her briefly and then turned his eyes back to the Turnpike.

Kate nodded in conceit, "A little of both."

"Well, for the record, I'm glad you started talking… it was too quiet. I was going to have to start singing show tunes soon and nobody wants that," he added with a laugh as he tossed two coins out of the window and proceeded forward.

"Former WWE Champion John Cena sings the greatest works of Broadway," Kate mimicked the antics of Lillian Garcia in a majestic voice. "I can see it now."

John shook his head confidently, "You can't see me."

Kate rolled her eyes, "Can't stay away for long, huh?"

He shrugged, "It's the reason I'm battling my own body everyday."

The smile on Kate's face instantly faded and she felt bad that she even brought it up.

As a recovering patient of only two months herself, she understood just how exasperating the situation really was.

"I'm sorry," she apologized somberly.

"Nah," John waved it off, "It's fine. Can't pretend the problem doesn't exist when it's there everyday. You know what it's like…"

"Yeah," she rubbed a hand over her denim clad knee. "At least you don't have your sling…"

John grinned, "And you don't have your brace…"

"Nice observation, meathead," Kate mused and turned her body slightly so that her back was partially against the door and window.

"Proudly," he grinned cheesily from her left.

"You sound just like one of my guy friends!" she exclaimed with a roll of the eyes. "He's a meathead too… he and I used to work out together in his backyard shed, which had no sort of temperature control, may I add. Well, before I got hurt."

"So really then…" John began, changing lanes and exiting off the Turnpike, "You're a meathead by association."

"No, I am not!" she protested furiously. "I am not a meathead…"

"And it's clear that you like him, too," he added.

"Um… no," she stated simply.

"Um… yes," John countered. "Seriously, Kate… you're diggin' the kid. Don't play coy with me, Blondie."

"Blondie?!?" Kate's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he grinned smugly. "I called you Blondie."

"Oh yeah?" she put her hands on her hips, "Look, who's talking, you… you… you…"

John snickered at her comeback, "You got nothing."

Kate grunted and turned away from him, eyeing the distant New York City skyline in her window.

The muscular man smiled to himself, a reward for a job well-done.

A half hour had passed and Kate still hadn't spoken a word to him, not even in passing.

But… he just couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"You like him…" John sang teasingly.

Kate remained silent. Annoyed, but silent.

"You like him…" he continued in a sing-song voice.

Still, nothing.

"You like him…"

"OKAY!" she yelled angrily at him and turned away from the window. "You win! I like him! Can you shut up now?"

"Nope," he shook his head once. "What's his name?"

Kate cracked her knuckles habitually, "Not that it's any of your business, but his name is Justin."

"What does he look like?"

"He's about 5'8"… black hair, blue eyes, muscular…"

"How'd you meet him…?"

"God, John," Kate groaned. "This isn't Five Questions! I don't HAVE to answer everything you ask."

"Yes, you do," he countered, entering the Holland Tunnel.

"Oh, yeah?" she challenged him. "And why is that?"

"Cause if I kicked you out of the car right now, you'd be stuck in the middle of a tunnel," he pointed out smugly.

"Ugh," she banged her head back against the seat and begrudgingly continued, "We met in one of our bowling leagues when I was a Freshman. I've liked him ever since."

"You bowl?" John asked her in surprise as he signaled right.

"No, I don't bowl… I kick ass," Kate informed him.

"High game?"

"276."

"High series?"

"743… where is this conversation going?" Kate laughed and continued, "Anyway, enough about my personal life. It's time I get to ask you about yours."

"Here it comes," John rolled his eyes and faced her as they stopped at a light. "You're going to yell at me too…"

"No," she held up a finger to silence him. "I'm not. I just want to know if you're happy."

Happy? Of course I'm happy. I mean, I think I'm happy…

"I think so," he nodded in affirmation. "Look, there's the restaurant up ahead. I'll leave you off up front and will meet you inside."

"Look, John," Kate sighed as they pulled through the green light and up to the curb. "I know that with the way my parents are, my opinion might not mean that much to you, but before you enter something as important and binding as marriage, you better be damn sure that you're happy," she added, opening the door and sliding out of the Hummer, "Because from where most objective onlookers are standing, this looks like the classic case of a gold-digger… then again, if you're truly happy, I guess that doesn't really matter, now does it?" Kate asked rhetorically and shut the door, leaving her companion with a lot to think about.

Could she really be right?

Kate wandered into the restaurant, completely overwhelmed by the scene around her. It took her a few minutes to realize where she even was at first and only did so because of the metal calligraphy words emblazoned on the host's podium: The Ivy.

"Excuse me," a proper man in his thirties asked her from behind the podium. "Can I help you?"

"Um…" Kate stammered and looked at him, "I came here with a friend of mine and I, uh…"

"Do you have a reservation?" he tapped his foot, just out of view.

"I don't know, he made the plans," she answered honesty.

"Well, I'll need both your name and your friend's name to verify that you are, in fact, on the list," the host informed her. "Not to mention identification."

Kate fished through her pocket book and came up with her wallet, which she pulled her license from.

"John Cena and Kate Jackson," Kate smiled proudly and handed him her ID.

The host arched an eyebrow and then glanced down at the card, "Ms. Jackson, welcome to The Ivy. Allow me to show you to your table."

The dark-haired gentleman led her to a table for two, "Here you go, Miss. Will Mr. Cena be joining you shortly?"

Kate glanced down at the cell phone in her pocketbook as she sat down with her back to the entrance, "That's a very good question."

"Your waitress will be with you shortly," he informed her and then retreated as she glanced through the menu.

Stop! Collaborate and listen…

"Right on time," Kate mused and grabbed her cell from her bag, "Hello?"

"You know, that's a very interesting ring tone you've assigned me, Blondie."

"Thank you," she laughed and the paused. "Wait a minute. How did you…?"

"Turn around."

Kate obliged his request and found the six feet, one inch tall John Cena towering over her from behind, "Ahh."

"Ice Ice Baby," John chuckled and shook his head, sitting opposite from her. "Nice choice. I see you remember my Halloween costume from years ago on Smackdown."

Kate bit her lip to stifle her own laughter, "Kind of hard to forget, don't you think?"

"Maybe next year, I'll come to your neighborhood and claim to be a kid dressed up like me, give people a surprise. What do you think?" he asked, glancing at his own menu.

"I think there will be more than a few cops called to my development."

"That was the best chicken tortilla wrap ever!" Kate announced as they left the restaurant. "And oh my God! Did you see who was sitting in the corner of our room?"

"Yeah," John laughed and nodded. "Robert DeNiro and Martin Scorsese."

"Oh my God!" she squealed. "I was in the presence of greatness!"

"Why thank you…"

"I wasn't talking about you."

"Oh," his voice dropped slightly.

"I'm sorry, Cena… but those men are legends. If it makes you feel any better, you're a legend in the making," she added optimistically.

"It does, a little. So you ready for what's next?" the muscular man smirked at her.

"Of course," Kate grinned excitedly.

"Come on, m'lady," he extended his arm out for her to take. "Your chariot awaits…"

"How did you know my secret pain?"

John let out a hearty chuckle as they were escorted to their steel seats, "We have talked about it before. The first conversation we ever had over the phone, actually."

Kate nodded, "That's right. I'm impressed."

"With a team like yours, you have to be impressed about something," he teased her.

"I'm sorry we all can't be Celtics fans," she rolled her eyes as they began to announce the starting five and the Garden went dark.

"I'm sorry your team sucks," he countered as Stephon Marbury and Nate Robinson jogged right by their seats. "But at least these seats don't."

"Nope," Kate shook her head with a smile. "They most certainly do not."

"Seriously, Cena," Kate smiled as they walked through her front door, the clock striking two a.m. in the kitchen as her mother laid fast asleep upstairs, "This was the best day… ever."

"Are you only saying that because the Knicks won?" he narrowed his blue eyes at her.

"No!" she exclaimed, but then realized just how loud she was being and dropped her voice a few decibels. "I mean, no. It was just fun hanging out with you."

"Honestly, Blondie, it was a blast hanging out with you too. Unfortunately," he sighed. "I have a long ass drive back to the city."

Kate nodded, but then spoke up, "Do you even have a hotel there?"

"Well, no…"

"That settles it, then," she straightened herself up and darted towards the stairs.

"Um…" John whispered from the foot of the stairs, "Where are you going?"

"I'm making sure the guest room is all cleared out of our crap," she called back quietly. "There is no way in hell that I am letting you drive back into the city at this hour to try and find a hotel. You're staying here."

"I really don't think that…"

"It wasn't a question, John," she arched an eyebrow at him and waved him up. "Plus, you're in town for a while, right?"

"Yeah, I did a lot of the promotional work this morning and while I planned on staying the week, I'm done now," he concurred as he reached the top. "Point being?"

"Then you're staying here," Kate told him plainly, leading him to the guestroom beside her bedroom. "I've got a few days off, we'll have some fun… and we'll forget all about the fact that we're gimps."

John did a double take, "You mean to tell me that you'd actually be okay going out, in public, in your hometown?"

Kate fanned a hand at him as she flicked on the light in the room and leaned on the doorframe, "Seriously, I was acting like an idiot. I mean, what the hell could possibly happen, right?"

A/N: Yay! It's back!

Chapter seven has arrived! I thought you guys would like this chapter!!!

Um… and just for the record… you readers rock! Seriously, TWENTY THREE REVIEWS?!?!?! Are you kidding me?!?!?! That's amazing.

I appreciate:

Sideways anger, Fozzy-Floozy, Shanai, xxwithlovexx, cassymae, littleone999, Ayla C. Raspus, giftiebee, Johnny, pinkshadow89, nobody knows cig, faxness-rulz, Enigmatic Lotus Leaf, MissyKate21, Cena-Test-Lover, jada951, rb, Sanoru, JCEdgeRKO, goddessofthenite, Fallen1987, miniature-hero, and JeffHardyFan02!

Imagine if I did that all in one breath!

Just for the record, Kate's opinion of the whole Liz thing kind of reflects my own. That's the last I'm going to comment on it… for a little while anyways. I've kind of moved on and now it's like, whatever. You can screw up your own life, darling… but in the end, you'll come to your senses. All men usually do.

And uh… yep. Review Review Review!

I have a feeling we're gonna break 100 reviews this chapter!

ENJOY!

Danielle