How could you wait another minute

A hug is warmer when you're in it

And Baby that's a fact

And saying "I love you's" always better

Seasons, reasons, they don't matter

So don't hold back

How many people in this world

So needful in this world

How many people are praying for love

Celine Dion- Don’t Save It All for Christmas Day

“I’m just warning you, Diana, maybe you’re moving a little too fast in this relationship,” said my friend Cait. “Maybe he’s not all he’s cracked up to be.”

We continue walking throughout the snow covered city, making our way through the hecticness that is Black Friday. I had decided that it would be time to meet up with some old friends being back at home in Pittsburgh and there was nothing better than a shopping day out with the girls.

“It’s not the relationship that I’m worried about, we’re fine, it’s everyone else that worries me. The press, the media, all the drama, that’s what I can’t handle,” I reply back while walking around the corner, headed to Saks. And it’s true, Justin and I have been fine, actually amazing. He went back to Tennessee for Christmas although he begged me to come with him and I came back home, but everything is working out perfectly to the way we want it to. 

My best friend stares at me a little, blankly questioning the sureness in my voice. “You know, Di, you were the one that knew the press was involved when you signed up to major in public relations, then agreed to be one of the biggest stars assistants.”

I sigh, she’s right. “But, it wasn’t me who decided to be his assistant, you know? I was pretty much begged by everyone at Jive to be his assistant. I’m the only one whose stayed longer than four months, that’s a record, did you know that?”

I pass by a newsstand and my cellphone begins to ring. 

“Diana speaking,” I answer.

“Hi babe,” the voice is almost comforting.

“Hey! How’s everything going?” 

“Good, I miss you.”

It was finally good to hear from him again, Thanksgiving had been hard in the communication department, both of us with crazy families and not nearly enough to talk. 

“I miss you more,” I say back and suddenly a headline catches my eye.

‘Pop King caught in wrong Queen’s arms’ I silently say to myself.

“Timb, I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Baby, something wrong?” He inquires.

“No, no, I’ll talk to you later.” 

I pick up the magazine and pay the vendor. Quickly turning to the cover story, I read:

“No one can deny that Justin Timberlake has the music charts in the palm of his hands, but who knew the superstar also has the hearts of two women at once? 

While on Thanksgiving Holiday, Timberlake was seen chatting it up with old flame Macy Smith, while current girlfriend Diana Knight headed back home to Pittsburgh.

While friends say that Timberlake would never cheat on any of his girlfriends, these pictures would surely prove otherwise.”

I don’t have to read anymore, the tears are already slowly flowing down my face. “Come on,” I say to Cait, “I need some more retail therapy.”

I pull out my credit card and make my way into Saks. I know spending money won’t stop the nagging ache that’s paining my heart right now, but I can’t think of anything else to do, except, turn off my buzzing cellphone.

-------------------------------------------------

“Trace, dude, lets go get food. I’m starving.” I say while walking up Diana’s home steps two steps at a time.

“Yeah man, sounds good.”

We make our way out to the garage and head on out to the local convenient store. And I immediately stop dead in my tracks. This cannot be happening again, I tell myself. Only I know that’s too good to be true.

“Uh, J man, something got your tongue?” Trace inquires.

I pick up the magazines, all of them in the store and pay for them. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.

“Come on,” I say, “we’ve got to get back to her house before she does.”

There goes my plans for the night. The perfect surprise, perfect moment, perfect gift. All of that went away with a few old pictures and a new headline to catch the eye. I knew something was wrong, I was just too stupid to think that the press would have anything to do with it.