After Jon's plane took off, I walked out to my car and started it, allowing the heater to warm up the interior before I took off. When my car was finally warmed up, I pulled out of the parking garage and slowly began making my way home. I had so much to do, I needed to clean and make room for Jon's few things. I could finally utilize my guest room for more than just a storage space since Jon had a bed that I had finally convinced him to bring along. I also needed to type up a resignation from my job. I had promised Jon I would. I had a feeling it would alleviate a lot of stress very quickly once I did.

I heard my phone chirp in my purse, a special alert I had set for Brandi. It repeated four times. Something serious was going on. I pulled into my parking lot and parked in my designated space, removing my phone from my purse before I cut the engine.

'Miiiiich.'

'MICH!'

'FUCKING ANSWER ME MICH.'

' MICHELLE. RED FUCKING ALERT!'

'What?! What's wrong? Sorry, I was driving. In ice and snow. What's going on?'

My phone dinged again, this time a screenshot of a blog post.

I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. Someone had taken pictures of Jon and I at the airport from afar, paparazzi-esque photos of us holding hands and kissing were now all over the internet.

'Fuck, B… He's gonna be pissed.'

'That's not even all of it, Mich. There's a video too. Pictures of y'all on y'alls date the other night. Like this shit is creepy. Someone is stalking you guys!'

'Who would do such a thing? Who would be crazy enough to follow me and Jon around? Who knew about our relationship that would post shit on the internet? Fuck…Mike. Fucking…fuck face.'

'I'm willing to bet it's Mike's creepy ass following me around. Now I'm scared to be alone.'

'I can't say I blame you. Lock it down, boo. I'll keep you posted if anything else comes up.'

I needed to get in touch with Jon, to clarify this shit quickly. I scrolled to our text thread and opened it up.

'Jon?'

'Yeah babe?'

'We have a problem.'

'What? '

I took a deep breath and explained to Jon just exactly what had happened, what Brandi found on the blog and how I thought it may be Mike. Who else would it be besides some crazy fan? Whoever it was had been following us all weekend.

'Let me find out he's stalking you. I'll kick his ass.'

'A lot of good that'll do. It'll just land you in jail. Don't do that. I'll figure it out.'

'If it's him Mich, I'm kicking his ass. I don't give a damn. I can get out of jail. I've got the money.'

'Yeah and when WWE fires you?'

'Good point. Damn it. I really wanted to kick his ass.'

I giggled as I responded to Jon, changing the subject to something less stressful and angering. I told him my plans of turning our guest room into an actual guest room and arranged a date where we could go to Vegas to pick up his things. I sifted through the plastic totes and tubs that were stacked against the wall in the guest room, throwing out the trash and keeping just a few items that actually meant something to me. There were old pictures and bills thrown in them, along with a ton of useless crap I'd forgotten I had; collectors glasses from fast food joints, action figures, CDs, DVDs, books and magazines, all completely pointless. It was unreal to me how much none of it mattered anymore. I couldn't believe I was finally parting with all of the things I had clung to so desperately for so long. Jon seemed to open my eyes to all the toxicity in my life; he was like a breath of fresh, cleansing air that I didn't know I needed.

I took a look around the room, taking in how much progress I had made. There was so much I'd gotten rid of. I needed a dumpster outside my windows so I could just toss it all down, especially the black leather-bound photo album of pictures of me and Mike. I took a seat on the floor to take a moment to sift through the album in case there were other photos I wanted to keep. I took a deep breath and cracked the cover open. For the first time, I realized what everyone always told me. I always looked so sad when I was with Mike. I took the first photo out and ripped it into four pieces, stacked them on top of one another and ripped that stack in half. It gave me some kind of odd pleasure, ripping us apart like he had done to our relationship, or whatever it was. There were photos from his shows, of him on stage performing and photos of us afterward together. He didn't look at me the way Jon did. He didn't hold me close like Jon did. He didn't love me back like Jon did. I picked up my phone and texted my boyfriend.

'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

There was absolutely nothing that compared to that feeling; being loved back, for once in my life, someone besides my sisters and my best friend loved me.

I continued ripping apart photos. And with each rip and tear, I felt better and better.

It was after ten before I took a break to shower and eat, opting for a frozen entrée meal in the microwave and movies on my couch. I pulled the red fleece blanket off the back of the sofa onto me, inhaling the manly scent Jon had left behind on it. I noticed that everything seemed to smell like him; he lingered in the air like cigarette smoke, soaking into everything he touched. I could feel my eyelids getting heavier by the second, I was exhausted. While my couch was plenty comfortable, I knew the bed would be a better choice, so I forced myself to shuffle to the bedroom after ensuring that all of my doors and windows were locked. I didn't want to chance whoever was creeping on me coming in and taking more unwanted photographs.

Waking up to three missed calls from Jon; two the night before and one early in the morning, I realized I had passed out before I could get my goodnight phone call. I knew as soon as I opened my eyes it was nearly 9 am; the same time I woke up every day. I shoved my glasses onto my face and blinked so my eyes could adjust to the new, clear vision they gave me. I rolled over onto my side and pulled the pillows Jon had been sleeping on for the last three days to my chest and slid my thumb across the notification for his missed calls.

The phone made a sound as the call patched through and connected. It rang three times before Jon's voice answered, gruff and breathless.

I was worried that he would be angry with me about the photos for some reason. I couldn't control it though and I knew that. That was just another perk to depression and anxiety; blaming yourself for every little thing that went wrong.

"Hey beautiful," Jon panted into the phone. I could hear clanking in the background as weights were slid off of and onto dumbbells and the light thudding of his feet on the treadmill he was running on. Friday was cardio and upper body day.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't mad, at least not at me.

"Hey," I yawned. I rolled out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, just barely catching myself before I turned the coffee pot on. He wasn't home there was no need. Instead, I opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice and two eggs. I needed to make myself breakfast and get a shower before I went back to work that afternoon.

"Just waking up?" he asked me.

"Yeah, it was rough getting to sleep. Just thinking about those photos," I replied.

"Yeah, about that. I don't think it was Mike. If it was, there would have been photos of us at the bar, too, right? Plus, after I put him in his place, do you really think he'd be stupid enough to follow us around?"

Jon was right; why would Mike stalk us and take photos of us? That would just be weird. Maybe it was just some fan.

"Fair enough. So I'm handing in my notice tonight," I told him, changing the subject. I didn't want to talk about those photos or who may be stalking me and him when we were together. The whole situation made me anxious. Something just wasn't right about it all.

"Good. Get you the fuck out of that hell-hole. You're so damn miserable, babe. I don't like it. I want to see you happy."

What the hell I'd done to deserve such a wonderful man, I had no idea. I continued my conversation with Jon for a few more moments as I finished preparing my breakfast.

I plated my food and poured a cup of orange juice before ending the call with my boyfriend and scarfing my food down. I had less than two hours to shower, apply my makeup, find something to wear, and get to work. I was such a procrastinator; it had really become a problem in recent weeks as my morale had slipped down the drain. Being at the bottom could get lonely and cold. I was thankful for my best friend and two sisters who never let me be completely in the dark; whether it was by sending a good morning text or bringing me food and making sure that I ate; they took care of me. They approved of the newfound love of my life too, which meant the world. Having the people I was absolutely closest to tell me that they thought we were perfect for one another really felt great.

I was thankful for him too; randomly showing up on my doorstep to spend three days with me when he rarely got a day off to begin with was more than I could have ever asked for. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had something good going for me. He made taking a deep breath feel easy; something people take for granted every single day. My anxiety made it a struggle. I constantly felt like there was a palette of bricks sitting on my chest, crushing my lungs so slowly that every breath I took was more shallow than the last, depriving my cells of oxygen. When he was around, it became easier. The palette of bricks was gone; he would touch me ever so gently without even thinking about it, his fingertips grazing my arm or leg as we sat beside one another on the couch with the TV off, just absorbing the silence. No sound except for our breathing, slow and steady, inhale, exhale, repeat. I loved how at night when we slept, he'd turn over and pull me as close as he could, his right arm tucked under the pillows, his left around my waist. It gave me the deepest sense of comfort, allowing my body and mind to completely relax. What I wouldn't give for that right then, but alas, work called. The countdown was on to the last day; only twelve more shifts to go in my retail hell.

I had half a mind not to go, to just say 'fuck it', but I couldn't let myself do that. I sighed aloud, begrudgingly making my way from the kitchen to the bathroom. I had a little time for a quick shower, just long enough to wash my hair. I turned the knob all the way to hot, slowly stripping down out of my Nightmare Before Christmas pajama pants and black tank top. I tossed them into the wooden hamper that was built into the bathroom cabinetry, removed a towel from the clean stack inside the cupboard and laid it on the sink before removing my glasses and climbing into the shower. The water was too hot, slightly scalding my fair skin before I could tediously turn it down a notch. The steam filled the tiny enclosed space and I found myself once again longing for my boyfriend. The last time I'd showered had been with him. Of course, with him not there, the shower was much more spacious but I'd give up the extra space to have him next to me any day. I closed my eyes, letting the water wash over me, dampening my hair. I fumbled blindly for a bottle and squeezed its contents into my hand until I could feel that there was enough there to wash my dirty blonde locks. As I began to lather it into my hair, I couldn't help but notice it had a different smell than I was used to. I rinsed my hair thoroughly before once again blindly grabbing for the bottle, squinting to read the label. I laughed out loud when I realized it was Jon's body wash and not my shampoo. I'm sure he'd be just as surprised when he realized he'd grabbed my shampoo. I wondered what his friends would say when he walked out of work smelling like peaches, jasmine, and vanilla. I put the bottle back and turned off the shower, wrapping my towel tightly around my body. I rubbed a bit of leave-in conditioner into my wet hair and combed it through, watching my distorted reflection in the fogged-up mirror. I estimated I had nearly an hour left to get dressed and head out, which meant I could lie in my bed for forty-five minutes and air dry before I got dressed.

Somewhere in those forty-five minutes, I fell asleep. "Shit!" I screeched to the walls, rolling out of bed.

I quickly dressed myself, foregoing makeup and any sort of styling my hair. Once I was completely dressed, I threw my phone and a few bottles of water into my purse, pulled my keys from the kitchen counter and bolted out the door. I waited for my car to warm up for a few minutes before I tailed it out of the complex and down the highway to my store as fast as I could on the now-slushy roads. I thought about how carefully Jon drove on the ice, gripping the wheel with both hands as he did, his knuckles white, his face stoic with concentration. He'd only reach over every now and then to take a sip of his coffee or gently squeeze my hand, as if to let me know he was there. When I looked back and reflected on my past relationships, well, relationship, I never remembered feeling the way I did with Jon. It always felt like walking on eggshells, trying so hard to impress him every second of every day. Even after we went our separate ways, I blamed myself for our demise, much like everything else in my life. I always found ways to lay the blame on myself.

After work, I found myself at my sister Amanda's house, snuggled into her plush tan couch, petting her white bulldog, Uga, who was curled up into my lap. I hadn't gotten a chance to sit down and talk to her since the night at the bar and there was a lot I needed to get off my chest.

Amanda came from the kitchen with a mug in each hand and sat on the couch next to me. Uga looked at his mom and sighed, laying his head back in my lap. I smiled softly and continued to pet his head.

"So talk to me. What's going on in that pretty little head?" Amanda handed me a mug of hot cocoa, complete with a huge dollop of home-made whipped cream. I took a sip, careful to not burn my tongue.

"Some photos of Jon and I got leaked online," I told her, swirling the cocoa around in the mug. I watched as the mountain of whipped cream melted into the dark liquid.

"Oh no, what kind of photos?" she asked.

"Just… Photos of us out the other night on our date and photos of us at the airport. So far, no really personal photos but still. He's such a private person. I hate that this happened," I responded.

"No freakin' way!" she gasped, mouth ajar.

"I know! I know. And what else is weird is Jon keeps losing his phone. So we're terrified more pictures are going to leak; private pictures. Luckily, Colby always happens to find his phone and return it to him," I said.

"Do you think it could be him doing it?" she asked me.

"Colby?"

She nodded.

"I…I haven't thought about it. I mean he's one of Jon's really good friends. Do you really think it could be Colby?"

Amanda shrugged.

"I think anything is possible. It's just really weird to me that he just-so-happens to be there every time Jon loses his phone," she said.

I nodded in understanding. It was weird, but I hated to suspect Colby. Though I had to admit, he did just pop up in random places, like at the airport, and the first night they debuted he seemed to follow Jon around like a lost puppy until he finally ran him off.

"I just hate to suggest it to Jon, ya know? I don't want him to think I'm suspecting his friends," I said.

"Understandable. How about if any personal photos leak, you approach him with the idea?"

I agreed with Amanda, but I really hoped no more photos leaked. I really didn't want our privacy invaded anymore than it had been. We finished our hot beverages and I told her about the airport and how Jon had told me that he loved me.

"If you listen carefully in the video the creeper posted, you can hear it," I laughed.

"Hey, at least there's a positive," she replied, laughing too.