"Hey Van, he- mom?" Cheyenne's eyes bulged as her mother entered the kitchen again. Reba hung up her purse and turned to glare at her, as if to say, "Don't say a word." She didn't, so Reba started to climb the stairs. She'd forgotten how hard it was to climb stairs pregnant, however, and stumbled a little. It would have been funny if she hadn't been in such a bad mood.

As soon as the pregnancy pad was off she stepped into a warm, bubbly bath. Her head was resting against the back of the tub and her eyes were closing as the water soaked through and relaxed her stiff body from such a tough day. In fact, she was so soothed she may have fallen asleep, except –

I think about
Holding you and kissing you
Wanting you and missing you
Building up and breaking down walls
I dream about finding you and keeping you
Loving you and living you
I'm telling you I want it all...all of you…

Gulp. Brock was calling her. Well, she wasn't answering. And she was certainly glad that hadn't rang downstairs – what would the kids think if they heard that ringtone for their Dad? She shivered at the thought and tried to get back to her calm, peaceful state.

That was rather difficult, however, because not a minute after her phone rang once, it rang again. She ignored it. But it rang again, then again after that. She wasn't sure whether to smile or cry when it finally stopped. He gave up. He always gave up. Then, to cause more conflict, she heard the sharp trill that told her she had a voicemail.

Well, so much for relaxing. She slowly got out of her bath and dried off, put on the PJ's she'd brought in, and walked out of the bathroom, her hair almost dry. The best part about having short hair was that it dried super quickly, and didn't run water down her back if she didn't have it up in a towel.

"Mom?" she jumped as she walked passed her sons room. He was staring up at her with a questioning expression on his little face.

"Yeah, Jake?"

"Why are you wearing Daddy's shirt?" Reba blushed as she realized in grabbing pajamas for herself, her mind had been so many places that she had grabbed a shirt she often wore to bed before the separation.

"It's not his," she fibbed. Jake shrugged and went back into his room. Grateful that he wasn't too curious, she started towards her room before anyone else could see. Unfortunately, Cheyenne came out of her room with Van at that moment and her reaction was like Jakes.

"Mom?" she gaped, staring at the shirt. "Why are you wearing Dads shirt?"

So Reba tried to same excuse. "It's not his."

"Then whose is it?" Van asked. Cheyenne's eyes lit up. "Mom, is there a guy in there?" she whispered, pointing to the door and grinning excitedly.

"No, Cheyenne!"Reba snapped and turned to go in her room.

After closing the door and locking it, she threw her clothes on the bed, only to hear her cell phone hit the floor on the other side. She rolled her eyes; she'd dropped it so often that it couldn't have done much more damage to it. She didn't even want to pick it up now; she needed to get Jake and Kyra to bed.

Jake was asleep quickest. Kyra pretended to be, but Reba could see her peeking through her strawberry lashes and was sure as soon as the door was shut, she would whip out her flashlight and begin reading under the covers. She just smiled as she left; Kyra was just like her.

When she entered her room, she realized she really wasn't tired anymore. That was odd; as of late her days had been so chaotic that at the end of them she'd crashed as soon as her head hit the pillow, but today had just raised a bunch of questions and feelings that kept her awake –ones that couldn't be silenced by her medication.

Why wasn't BJ at the class? Were things okay between her and Brock? Why was the wedding being put off so often? Why, despite these stupid pills, couldn't she get over him enough to change that stupid ringtone?

Ringtone…Reba suddenly remembered that he'd left a voicemail. Quickly she reached to the floor and retrieved her phone. She dialed her voicemail, and listened:

"You have four unheard messages. First unheard message:"

"Reba, please, please pick up! I don't understand..why didn't you tell me? You know, just call me back as soon as possible, please?"

She sighed and deleted the message.

"Reba, why aren't you picking up? Please don't hate me yet."

Delete.

"Okay, Reba, this isn't funny!! You have no idea how confused I am right now!"

DELETE.

There was a pause before the last message, then a deep breath. "Look…I don't blame you if you hate me, because you have every right. So if you don't ever speak to me again…just know how sorry I am. I always will be, and I love you."

SAVE. She wasn't strong enough to delete it yet. One day when she wasn't crying or totally thrilled that he'd finally told her that, maybe she would delete it. She hadn't heard that in almost a year. If only she could tell him the same thing – if only she had fought for him when she could have. Love really was a losing game – no one was winning anything here: Not Brock, who had to stay with BJ; not BJ, stuck with a man who still loved Reba; and not Reba, who would always blame herself.

But Reba couldn't let him think that she was pregnant. But how would she keep her head? Her fingers were shaking as she dialed the number.

Brock answered on the first ring. "Reba?"

"Yes, it's me, Brock."

Pause. "Have you been crying?"

"No," she lied, knowing he wouldn't believe her, but knowing he would just go along with it anyway.

"Oh." Pause. "Reba, why didn't you tell me?"

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Brock, I'm not pregnant. Van made me wear that because he needed me to look pregnant for the childbirth class. So…its all a misunderstanding and you shouldn't feel guilty." She waited for him to stutter out an embarrassing renouncement of his last message as the seconds dragged on, but it didn't come.

"Oh," he said finally. His tone surprised her; it wasn't embarrassed or relieved, it was disappointed, almost.

"You don't sound as relieved as I thought you would," Reba tried to chuckle.

"Why would I be relieved?" he asked, confused. "You don't think I'd be happy to have another child with you?"

"Brock, you shouldn't be talking like that," she said, and it would have been scolding if her voice wasn't breaking. "Not anymore."

"Reba, there is no 'anymore'." Another silence.

"What are you talking about?"

"BJ…left. She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"What?" Reba resisted the urge to yell. She just couldn't believe it!! How could BJ just leave? She certainly didn't leave for good, right? And if that was true, why couldn't she have left before the divorce was final? Against her will tears sprung to her eyes. All that hurt…for nothing. She told herself it wasn't about her, though. She took a deep breath and prepared herself to comfort him. "Brock, I'm so sorry." Pause. "You wanna talk about it?" She half hoped that he'd say no, but half hoped that she could just keep talking to him.

"That's not fair, Reba, I've used you too much. I don't wanna make you listen." He sounded like he meant it, and Reba wasn't sure whether to be touched or victorious.

"Brock, you can't make me. I want to. So if you wanna talk…I'm here. Or, if it'd help, I'd come over and we could talk." She wasn't sure what made her say it, but she would have said the first thing that came to mind right now – anything, just for him to see that she still saw him as her best friend in the whole world, and she'd forgiven him. And if he needed her as much as she needed him…

"Reba…that'd be great. But as long as you don't think you have to-"

"I'll be there in a minute." She hung up.

Song: All of You by Reba. YouTube it!!