"Oh, I am so totally not looking forward to this," Trish said as she and Amy stood in front of the vanity in the women's locker room.

The petite blonde Canadian, who had become the new Women's champion at the Survivor Series a few days earlier, would be competing in the first-ever Thanksgiving "Gravy Bowl" match against Stacy Keibler.

"I can't say I blame you," the redhead said, wrinkling her nose with distaste.  "I just wonder if I'd be having to do that tonight instead of you had I won that match the other night..."

"Nah, I doubt it," Trish said.  "As I said when we were discussing this topic a few months ago, I think it's us blondes who always have to suffer through this kind of crap."  She laughed sarcastically.  "It's weird - you would think that now that I know what I'm doing in the ring, I'd be taken more seriously...but here I am, competing in another stupid gimmick match tonight.  You know, even my little feud with Stephanie was better than this...At least we didn't have to roll around in a tub of gravy."

"Yeah," Amy said, and her face broke into a teasing smile, "even if you did have to roll around in chocolate."

"Well, yeah," the blonde replied with a small grin of her own.  Then, changing the subject, she asked, "So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Well, since we don't have off, I guess a bunch of us'll be having a little dinner party," the redhead replied as she ran the fingers of her right hand through her hair.  "Of course, last year, I was home for Thanksgiving after getting cut open by Lisa's boot."  She was referring to the previous Survivor Series match in which she'd tried to regain the Women's title from Ivory, whom had then been part of Right to Censor.  Instead of doing so, she'd caught her opponent's boot right above her left eye, requiring eleven stitches.  That had certainly not been any fun.  In fact, it had been downright miserable.

Amy grew quiet at these thoughts, as she recalled that event had taken place only a couple of weeks after the very first time she and Adam had been together.  At the time, she'd been pretending it had never happened, wanting to forget all about it, push it to the farthest recesses of her mind - where, at the time, she'd felt it belonged.  It was amazing how vastly different things could become given time.

"Are you okay?" Trish was suddenly asking her.  The petite Canadian put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

The redhead met her friend's chocolate-brown gaze in the mirror, a smile gently touching her lips.

"Yeah, I was just-"

"Thinking about Adam," Trish finished for her.  She smiled.  "Yeah, I know you."

The taller diva blinked, her smile waning as she grew a little serious.  "Trish, can I...confide something in you?"

"Sure."

"I...It's just that..."  Amy bit her lip, choosing her words carefully.  "Well, sometimes I can't believe Adam and I have been together this long.  I mean, the way we started out - I was sure it was strictly going to be sex and nothing more between us, but...Well, you know I love him..."

"Of course," the little blonde said with a nod.

"Well, the problem is...I...I honestly am not sure if he loves me back."  There, she'd finally admitted to the nagging insecurities she always seemed to feel and could never quite shake.

"What?  How can you say that?" Trish asked.  "Amy, it's so obvious that he loves you!"

"But...he's never actually said it," the redhead admitted nervously.

"He hasn't?"  The blonde actually felt puzzled by that one.  Then, she shook her head, her eyes rolling heavenward.  "Oh, that's just men for you - they're always like that.  Can't admit their feelings - well, for some, it's easier, but for others...Trust me, Amy - you have one of the others."

"You really think so?"

"For sure," Trish replied.  "So, you've said it to him, but he hasn't said it back?"

"Well, no...not exactly," the redhead said.  "The only time I did say it to him, he was sound asleep."

The Canadian woman chuckled, unable to help herself.  As her friend eyed her questioningly, she spoke again.  "Then you're just as big a chicken as he is."

Amy shrugged.  "I guess I'm just traditional in that sense," she said.  "Don't get me wrong, Trish - I don't buy into all that garbage that women shouldn't make the first move - but saying those three little words is a whole different ballgame."  She moved away from the vanity table and started for the door.  "Anyway, I've got to go meet Jeff and Matt for our spot a little later.  Good luck in your 'match.'"

"Thanks," Trish replied as she tugged the hem of the skirt of the skintight black dress she was wearing for what would prove to be very humiliating - not only for herself, but for Stacy as well.  She watched Amy slip out the door in the mirror.

When her friend was gone, the blonde woman shook her head almost sadly.  "I don't think it's that simple, my friend...I think you are a little insecure - which means you're with your perfect match..."  Yes, Trish thought, arching an eyebrow as she checked her makeup one last time, you and Adam are a perfect fit.