A/N: Thanks for all the reviews for my crazy angel story lol. I sort of got a request to update this so I thought, what the hell and did. Hope you like the chapter and if you want to leave a review, well, I'm not going to argue with that because reviews are very nice. Anyways, enjoy. :)

"You look distracted."

I can feel Paul's hand brushing my hair back from behind me as he comes around to sit next to me. I can recognize his hands. My hand always seems to disappear when we're holding hands. I don't know if the old adage about large hands and large…other parts is true, Paul and I haven't gotten that far yet, though I'm sure at some point, he'll get impatient and then I'll get impatient and we'll fall into bed together. It might even be good, especially because I won't see Chris standing in the room, observing me like a perverted voyeur, not that he was a perverted voyeur before, Chris doesn't have desires like I do I'm sure. It's probably not in his repertoire. Besides, what would he even desire?

"Distracted?" I ask. I don't feel like I'm distracted. I'm here with him and I'm sitting with him and okay, so maybe I'm slightly…off-kilter. I just feel kind of off ever since Chris left, but I'm trying very hard to not think about it. Maybe if I don't think about him, he'll be so offended that he'll come back. Still, if he doesn't come back, that's his problem, not mine. It's not like I don't know he's there somewhere so it's not like I'm really missing anything.

He's still playing with my hair then rubbing the back of my neck, like I'm tense or something. I don't feel tense, but maybe he's feeling something I can't feel. "Yeah, you just seem kind of out of it. How's work going for you?"

"Shouldn't you know, since you're there with me all the time?" I joke. It feels good to say something jokingly. I haven't felt very joke-like in the past week or so. Not to say that I haven't joked around, but I haven't been into feeling light. Maybe now I can really move past this and get back to normal, whatever normal is. I've never been normal, what with seeing my guardian angel all the time. Hey, maybe this means I can finally experience what the normal, average person experiences. Already I'm seeing silver lining.

"I guess I should pay more attention to you, shouldn't I?" he says, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek. He really likes the physical contact between us. I don't know if it's because he wants to show me off or if he's just one of those guys that likes to constantly have some sort of physical contact with their girlfriend. It doesn't really bother me because whenever he's touching me, it means he's here and I like that feeling. With Chris, I knew he was around and so I never felt alone.

Okay, so I'm going on and on about Chris and he's not even really here for me to see. No wonder Paul thinks I'm distracted. It's not that I'm always thinking about Chris, there are times when I'm not even thinking about him at all, but I admit, I do think about him a lot. It's hard not to, knowing that he's hovering around without me knowing. Maybe I walk right through him sometimes and he laughs at me for being such an idiot. Maybe he's always laughing at me...he is a very sarcastic angel. He probably does laugh at me.

"I guess you should," I tell him in my best flirtatious voice.

"I definitely will then," he says, giving me a kiss right below my earlobe. "What is going on in that brain of yours?"

"You'd never believe me," I tell him.

"Try me," he says and he wouldn't believe me. Nobody would, unless I find someone who can see their own guardian angel as well, but how would I ever go about finding someone else? I don't think the, "Hi, do you see your guardian angel" approach will work for me. I think that would get me weird looks and a stay in a psychiatric ward. I am under the impression that other people can see their guardian angels, Chris said as much so they must be out there, but they're either considered absolutely insane or they're those hippy-dippy people that own hippy-dippy stores that sell crystal balls and healing stones.

"It's nothing, you're right, it's just work catching up with me, that's all," Stephanie said, rubbing her head a little. "I'm just not used to the work days yet. It's only been a very short time since I even started traveling with the company, barely even a year, and I guess I'm just not used to it yet."

"Yeah, it takes time to ease in, plus your role has significantly increased as the year has gone on."

"True," I shrug. "So I guess it's just all really catching up to me now. I'm just kind of tired, not like tired of my life, but just exhausted tired."

"Do you want me to give you a massage so you can relax?" he asks and there he goes again with the physical contact. Should I be wary of it? Could Paul try to force something more sinister on me? I mean, he seems like he just wants to give me a massage, help me release the tension I can't feel, but know is probably there, but what if there's something darker. I could be laying on my stomach and he could suddenly flip me over and pin me to the floor or the couch. My eyes widen and I think about it for a moment. That would be terrifying, Paul is so much bigger than I am, I would have no hope of getting free. And here I am speculating that my boyfriend is secretly a rapist and God, now I'm paranoid.

"No thanks," I say simply. "I'm good."

"Okay, well, if you're good, do you think you would want to come out to dinner with me and the guys tonight?"

"The guys?" I inquire, wondering just who his guys are for the night, though I can make an educated guess. Paul isn't too popular backstage, we both know that. It's not because he's dating me, the boss's daughter, it's just his demeanor. While he's incredibly sweet and nice to me, when it comes to business, he's as cutthroat as my father. He wants to be the best and he'll step on the little guy to get there. This has made him unpopular in the locker room and for good reason, a lot of guys are jealous and a lot of guys are bitter.

"Sean Waltman, Kip, B.G., you know, the crew."

"Oh, yeah, the crew," I say.

"You up for going?"

"You know, I don't think so," I tell him. It's not that I don't want dinner with him, I don't want dinner with his crew. They're all very loud and obnoxious and get a few drinks into them and they become even more raucous. I'm not the type of person who likes that kind of thing so I think I'll decline. Although, if I went, I think it would get my mind off Chris for a while. That might just be what I need, a few stiff drinks burning their way through my system. "On second thought, sure, I'll go."

"Awesome," he says, giving me a kiss for my trouble. "We'll meet you after the show then?"

"Yeah, meet me after the show."

I know as soon as I walk into the bar that I'm making the wrong choice. Chris would have chastised me, telling me that this kind of place was not where I should be. But he's not here to tell me and if he was going to save me, he hasn't appeared yet so I must be in the clear. It's not the seediest place I've ever seen, but it's worn and there's evidence of its rough and tumble nature from the way the bar is decorated. I feel instantly out of place, but Paul wraps a protective arm around me, silently letting everyone know that I'm his. I see a few other wrestlers are in here so someone must've sent the word out. There are a few divas as well so that puts me a little more at ease, but not by much. Chris still wouldn't like seeing me in this kind of place, he's probably shaking his head right now, scoping out the joint, seeing or knowing if something is going to hurt me. I find myself scanning for the same prospects.

Then I remind myself that this night is one where I'm supposed to forget Chris. He's supposed to be a blip on the radar tonight and nothing more. So I tell Paul that I want something strong, a martini, scotch neat, just something stiff. He brings me a cosmopolitan and that's fine with me. I take that first burning sip and as it bitterly slides down my throat I know this won't be my first one. But I'll reign it in, I won't have five or some ridiculous number like that. I'll have two, maybe a beer as well, but nothing too much, nothing to get me drunk. I don't want to be drunk. Too many bad things happen when you're drunk. I just want that buzzed feeling, the one where you feel like you're on top of the world, but you still have enough faculties left that you don't make some stupid decision you'll regret.

I like that feeling and when it's washing over me later, I feel myself opening up just a little bit more. Chris is not the farthest thing from my mind, but he's pretty damn low on the list. It feels good not to think about him constantly, not to worry about where he is or where life is going to take me. I'm living in the moment for once, not thinking about that scary future that may creep up on me at any moment. And I like being with Paul. I like the weight of his arm across my shoulder, letting everyone know we're together, protecting me. I like feeling like we're the "it" couple around here. I like that feeling and I want it to continue all night. I wish it could continue all night.

"You sure had fun tonight," Paul tells me as we're leaving the cab we took back to the hotel. The buzz has worn off a bit, but I still feel pretty good. We left everyone at the bar and decided to go back to the hotel. I think Paul could sense that I was getting a little bit sleepy and that the noise of the bar was getting to be too much.

"Yeah, it was nice," I tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Thanks for bringing me."

"Thanks for coming," he tells me back as we ride the elevator up to my hotel room. I lean against him, letting him be my pillow of sorts. I am suddenly feeling tired, but that's probably just an effect of the alcohol. It makes me sleepy sometimes, for some reason.

We finally get to my floor and he helps me to my door, actually going through my bag to get my keycard for me. He helps me inside and takes me to my bedroom, lying me down on the bed. He lies down next to me and then just watches me. I smile at him and he smiles back and brushes my hair out of my face. He really is a very nice man and he's probably not a scary guy. People just don't understand him. It's a shame too, if people would just get to know him, I know they'd like him as much s I do. No matter what Chris thinks about his personality.

And there are my thoughts going right back to Chris and I can feel my smile faltering a little bit and Paul notices. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I answer, pushing my smile back up.

"No, something's wrong, I've sensed it for like a week now. I don't think it has anything to do with work though, want to tell me what it is?"

"No, not really, it's nothing, just missing someone," I tell him, leaving it vague enough to where he probably won't suspect I'm talking about an angel.

"Who?"

"Just an old friend, we kind of lost touch recently and I miss him."

"I'm sorry, that's too bad."

"Yeah," I say, then yawn. "I think I'm just going to head to bed."

"Okay, well, I'll let you be then," he said, leaning forward to kiss me. I kiss him back lazily, taking him in for the moment. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"I think I would be hurt if you didn't."

He grins at that and I'm happy to make him smile. "Then I'll call you tomorrow, sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams to you," I respond. He winks at me before getting off the bed. I close my eyes as he walks out of the room. I hear the door close and I'm alone again. I sigh and open my eyes, shifting so I'm lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. I should be getting up and putting my pajamas on and brushing my teeth, but I'm too tired to get up right now so I just lay there and stare. That's it, just stare…as my thoughts drift back to Chris.

When I'm alone in my room and have nothing but my thoughts, that's when he's there in my brain and sticks there. There's no forcing him out of my thoughts when they're the only thing to keep me company at night. It's lonely without anyone there. I never knew loneliness, not ever because I've never actually been alone. Now I am and I don't understand how people can deal with this. I don't understand how they can sit here night after night all alone and not want to pull their hair out. It's only been a very short time and I feel so alone that it chokes me.

"Chris, will you please come back?" I want to blame the alcohol for making me say it. I want to, but I know it's not the alcohol at all, it's my gut, my heart, it's everything inside of me spilling out because more than anything, I just want Chris back.

"You beckoned?"