I watch her as she sits through her interview with People magazine, flawlessly answering questions as if she's been doing this her whole life. Smiling and laughing to keep the air jovial, being pleasant to ensure future interviews that shine a good light on her as a person. I see a look in her eyes that reveal a flash of sharp pain, biting her top lip and she finishes up the interview with massive amounts of pain with her hand resting on her lower abdomen.

"What's it like to be on tour with one of your cousins, boyfriend and three young children?" he asks.

"Interesting, busy and usually funny as ever. I promise there's never a dull moment and I enjoy the majority of it."

"Would you say you're the next Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera or Britney Spears?"

"Lawdy no! I'm me and they are themselves. I may have a four octave range and I'm learning to reach another one, I want to surpass Josh's range to be able to laugh about it later."

"So, you're saying you want to surpass their abilities?"

"No, I grew up listening to most of the greats and I don't think I ever will be able to, they've had more time to hone their skills than I have."

"Do you have any faith in your skills?"

"I do, but I need to work harder at it than most of the artists that have been around since the 90s."

"Do you respect them?"

"Of course I do, they influenced me and have been unbelievably nice since I've met them."

"You have no ill will toward anyone?"
"No reason to. Everyone I've met so far has proven to me that I have no reason to wish them any negativity."

"You seem realistic and level-headed."

"Thank you," she says sweetly, offering a polite smile and I note that the pain hasn't subsided yet.

"Is there anything that could make you pull out of the limelight, temporarily even?"

Her blue eyes filled with sadness and pain, physical pain, her eyes meeting the interviewer's. "Medical or family emergencies."

"Thank you for allowing me to sit down and talk with you," the man who seems no older than 25 that interviewed her and she shakes his hand, his body language overly enthusiastic.

"You're very welcome."

I walk over to her and take her in my arms, knowing she needs comfort as the representative from People magazine leaves the arena. "You alright?"

"Cramps."

"You're supposed to start soon, right?"

"I think so."

"I'm here if you need anything."

"What's wrong?" Nick asks, approaching us in my line of view and I see the concern as plain as day in his face.

"Cramps."

"Ibeprofuen?"

"No," she groans.

"Why not?"

"Need 2400 mgs' worth and don't want to seem doped up, just started my career."

Honest explanation. "Come here, Bitty," he says soothingly and she pulls him beside her by the side of his shirt without moving too much, wrapping her arms around his middle before crying from the pain. I watch as she breaks down from the pain. "Go get the tour physician," he quietly demands with worry dripping from each syllable.

I head for the stage and find Wade there, pulling out my cell to call her tour doctor. "JC, hello," the middle-aged woman who's been her PCP since she moved to Tampa and often speaks with her doctor since she was in 8th grade.

"She's cramping and she's crying."

She hums at the info and agrees to meet me backstage in the green room, texting Nick the moment I hang up. 'Can u get her 2 the grn rm?'

'Meet u there in 5?'

'Yeah.'

I quickly walk in the general direction of the room she's going to be in and Wade stops me. "Where is Sam?"

"Probably curled in the fetal position on the couch in the back room with her cousin trying to soothe her as she suffers from pain," I snarkily remark, walking around him.

"When will she be out here for rehearsal?" he shouts after me.

"Have the other opening act rehearse." I flick my hand at him over my shoulder. I get in the room and sure enough, I'm right about her being curled up in a ball while she cries out in pain with Nick trying his best to comfort her. He's got Usher playing in the background softly, singing with it and acting like they grew up together. He treats her like his little sisters and I think it's because she's kind of like each of them in some ways, helping him heal since Leslie's passing. "Hey, baby," I softly say, stroking her hair and kneeling in front of her.

"Uhhhhnnnnnn," she moans, her tour doctor entering the room.

We move out of the way and she goes to work, talking to her. She checks her pulse, takes some blood and has Sam give her a urine sample. She leaves the room after giving her some Midol and ibeprofuen, instructing her to put a warm cloth over her lower abdomen and to lie down until her rehearsal after 3. She looks at me, gives me a weak smile and stops in front of me at the door. "It might just be her dysmenorrhea acting up again or it might be more serious."

"How serious?" Nick rapidly inquires, scared for her.

"She could be pregnant or could need to go in for surgery to check for endometriosis."

Sam warned me about endometriosis. "Let's hope she's pregnant," I comment.

"You sure you can handle another child?"
I shrug, unsure about it. "We can figure it out later."
"We have a week before the end of the tour."

"I know, Nick. I'd rather hear she's pregnant than she has to go in for surgery."
"I second that then."