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ACT 3
written by: chellepo1977
If it wasn't for bad luck, Michonne was sure she'd have none at all. There was no other way to explain the disaster movie that was her love life. In the weeks after that painfully awkward lunch, she oscillated between lamenting the fact that the first genuinely good man she found was emotionally unavailable, and cursing the revelation that her new editor just happened to be the ex-wife partially responsible for it. It was a small world even in a city like New York.
She hadn't seen Rick or set foot in The Blueprint since that day. Their only contact had been a text she sent him on the way home from that lunch and one too many dirty martini's, explaining that they were looking for different things and suggesting that with Lori's added complication, they should just quit while they were ahead. He'd agreed, and that was that.
Still, she missed him; his pretty blue eyes, his scruffy face, his soft lips, and his easy drawl that reminded her of home. It was over before they even got started and while she regretted that, it had to be for the best. Now, if she could just forget about him and the way he made her feel.
Somewhere in the third week post Rick, Sasha started bringing up this food critic for the New Yorker she'd met at some charity event the weekend before. Michonne knew the pattern. Sasha would mention meeting a guy, then she would drop tidbits of information about him for a few days like a trail of breadcrumbs until she actively started trying to set up a blind date. Eventually, Sasha would get tired of waiting for her to take the hint and come right out and ask if she could go ahead and set things up.
That's how she ended up agreeing to meet Negan MacLeod for a date. Learning from her need to come up with an exit strategy for her dates one time too many, she'd recommended meeting for drinks at Cork; a trendy wine bar close to her apartment. Drinks meant she could be home before 8pm if Negan was like all her other dates; and based on her track record and the fact that she still couldn't stop thinking about a certain pair of blue eyes, her expectations were almost nonexistent.
She wasn't sure if it was because the bar was set so low, but wine with Negan was actually fun. He was tall, with a cocky grin and matching attitude, but he seemed genuine enough. He talked about himself a lot, but he was equally interested in hearing all about her. Most of all he made her laugh, and after the last month, she appreciated that more than anything.
They were having enough of a good time over drinks, that when he mentioned a restaurant nearby that he was late in reviewing and playfully begged her to, "help me mix a little business with pleasure", she'd happily agreed. They walked a few blocks; talking and laughing so much that she didn't realize her own special brand of bad luck had kicked in until they were standing right in front of The Blueprint.
She'd hesitated outside the door just long enough for Negan to notice, but he must've assumed she was just playing coy because he grabbed her hand and pulled her inside right along with him. Her head was on a swivel as they waited at the host station to be seated; praying that Rick was in the back that night while a part of her wanted to see him. They made it all the way to their table and were perusing their menus when she finally saw him, and her breath caught in her throat.
He was standing near the lounge, seemingly frozen in time with his wide cerulean eyes trained on their table. Instead of the collared shirt and blazer she'd usually seen him in, he was wearing a chef's coat and it suited him even more than his corporate look did. Her mouth turned to cotton and she wasn't sure if it was because of the immense amount of sexiness he was projecting, or because of how guilty she felt about being on a date in his restaurant.
He must've realized he'd been caught staring because he quickly diverted his eyes to the floor. There was another pause as she watched his shoulders drop for just a second before he gave her a final, longing look before disappearing into the lounge.
She was on her feet excusing herself to the ladies room before she really had a chance to think about it, and she was across the dining room before she even knew what she'd say. She found him leaning back against the bar with his eyes squeezed shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You should take something for that headache," she commented.
He jerked his attention towards her and after a beat, gestured to the empty shot glass sitting on the bar and said, "I already did."
There was an awkward pause as they just observed each other and she struggled with what to say. She finally went with, "How are you?"
"Oh, you know...busy. I actually need to get back in the kitchen," he said, trying to walk past her to escape but she reached out for his arm to stop him.
"I didn't know we were coming here," she began; needing him to know that she wasn't the type of person who would do something like that.
He shook his head, refusing to meet her eye. "It's none of my business," he said, stepping to the side intending to go around her, but she continued to stand in his way. He had to know that she wasn't cruel enough to bring a date to his place after what happened between them. Even if it was just a lot of flirting, one date, and one beautiful kiss.
"It's a blind date. He's a restaurant critic and he mentioned a place he was overdue reviewing. I didn't know he meant here until we were standing outside," she explained, without pausing to take a breath. She always babbled when she was nervous. "I need you to know I wouldn't do that."
He shoulders sagged before he finally dragged his eyes up to meet hers and they were dark with what looked like regret. "I know you're not, but even if you were, I'd deserve it," he rasped, his voice wavering.
He looked and sounded like a man at war with himself and it made her sad to see him like that.
"Rick," she breathed, but he quickly dodged past her before she could say anything else. He faced her with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"Look, I need to get back to work. What happened with us…was for the best. You were right. It's complicated. My ex is your editor. You're looking for a husband and I'm not ready for that."
"I'm not trying to get married tomorrow," she argued; never wanting to be less right for the first time in her life.
He cocked his head to one side and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "I know that. It's just that…I don't know if I'll ever be ready."
She stared at him in silence because what could she really say to that? She was looking for something that at least had the potential to be a forever thing and he couldn't promise her that. She should've been grateful for his honesty but instead she was devastated by it.
He cleared his throat and kept talking. "Your date is probably wondering where you are. It was good seeing you, Michonne." It sounded so formal; so different from the comfortable way he used to talk to her that it stung.
He pushed through the door that led to the kitchen, and she took a moment to collect herself before heading back over to the table where her date was waiting. His lips curved into a playful grin as she approached the table and took her seat.
"Have I told you how gorgeous you are in that dress?"
She was suddenly not in the mood for Negan's flirting, and she responded with a tight smile and picked up her menu.
"Only about a half dozen times," she answered.
Negan kept grinning at her. "Well, it needs repeating. Red is definitely your color." He was being nice, and he didn't deserve the foul mood she was in. It took conscious effort, but by the time their dinner arrived, the easy conversation between them was going strong again.
Currently, he was droning on and on about a trip he'd taken to Thailand, and under different circumstances, she would've found it all very interesting. Negan was charming and a great conversationalist, but there was no spark. She used to be more practical than that. Sparks had always been something she'd relegated to the realms of romance novels. The man currently hiding from her in the kitchen changed all that though. Now that she completely understood what it was, she needed the spark.
If their date had happened a month ago, she would've had absolutely nothing to complain about. But it wasn't a month ago, and by the time their plates were cleared, she knew she wasn't going to see Negan again.
"So...you wanna head back to my place after this?" Her date asked, his slightly slurred voice pulling her out of her thoughts. She focused in on him completely, a little surprised at his sleepy eyes and slow grin. She hadn't kept track of the whiskey sours he'd been throwing back, but whatever the number, it was too many.
She shook her head and answered, "I have an early day tomorrow."
He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and chuckled, "I thought we were having fun."
"We were, but I think you've had enough fun for the both of us," she said, looking around for Rosita and their bill.
He draped his arm across the back of her chair and she gasped when he pulled it close enough to butt right up next to his, effectively caging her between himself and the wall.
"Let's keep having fun, Chonne. I've been thinking about having those legs of yours wrapped around me all night," he whispered, and she shivered when his fingertips brushed against her collarbone.
"Negan…"
Everything that happened next was a blur. Negan slid his other hand across her body and grabbed her high on her thigh; his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her skirt as he squeezed. Her lips were parted to unleash the fury he'd ignited within her, but just as she shifted to remove his wandering hand from her body, he was snatched out of his chair with enough force that it shook the table and startled both of them.
The dining room went silent, and she looked up to find Negan pinned against the wall by Rick's forearm to his throat. His eyes were like blue flames; threatening to incinerate anything in their view.
"You think you can put your hands on her?" He growled, leaning into Negan until he was gasping for air.
"Take it easy! We're just having a good time." Negan's ridiculous explanation seemed to only infuriate Rick more and he tilted his head to the side as he leaned in harder against Negan.
"Women don't tend to flinch when they wanna be touched, asshole." Rick's harsh words and Negan's coughing shook Michonne out of her daze and she glanced around the room, realizing that every eye in the restaurant was trained on the scene they were creating. Even Tyreese and Jesus were standing on high alert and, from the looks on their faces, they'd never seen their boss as close to the edge as he was.
She forced her attention back to Rick and Negan's steadily reddening face. She had to do something before things went too far, so she rushed to her feet and placed a hand on Rick's shoulder.
"Rick, you have to let him go," she begged, more for Rick's sake than Negan's. "He's not worth this."
She held her breath for the long moment where he seemed to consider what she'd said, until he finally blinked out of his rage. His eyes darted around the room, almost like he was reminding himself of where he was. When they finally landed on her, the fire still hadn't gone out, but it was joined by a bit of shame.
He finally relented; closing his eyes and shoving himself away from a coughing and gasping Negan.
"Get out." The order was no louder than a whisper, but from Rick's glare, it was an order she hoped was quickly obeyed.
She stiffened when Negan's eyes landed on her and the almost sickening lust had been replaced by an equal amount of disdain.
"Goddamn it! Thank you for finally deciding to call off your dog," he said, his voice like sandpaper from the pressure he'd endured against his throat. There was still a hint of nastiness there, so almost being choked out hadn't changed his attitude at all.
Before she could respond, Rick stepped in front of her with his arms folded over his chest. Even though he'd tapped down his anger, it still charged the atmosphere all around him; ready to ignite if Negan made one wrong move.
His voice came out low and commanding as he gritted, "Don't talk to her. Don't even look at her. In fact, it's probably a good idea to forget you ever laid eyes on her."
Negan grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and turned to leave, but he paused and focused in on Rick one last time. His lips curled into a sinister grin.
"Rick Grimes, huh? You own this place don't you?"
"I do," Rick replied, and Michonne cringed when she remembered why she and Negan had ended up at The Blueprint in the first place.
Negan chuckled, "Look out for my review of this place in the New Yorker. I hope that piece of ass is worth losing your restaurant."
A choir of gasps rose from everyone in the room when Rick's fist connected with Negan's jaw, and sent him crumbling against the wall with a thud.
"Rick!" She shouted, grabbing his arm and using most of her strength to hold him back from delivering another blow; delaying him long enough for Tyreese and Jesus to come pull Negan to his feet and escort him out.
Rick's eyes followed the three of them until they were outside and once they were gone, he finally turned around to face her for the first time.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and asked, "Are you ok?"
She nodded, "Thank you for stepping in."
He looked down at her like there was more he wanted to say but just as she started to hope he'd changed his mind about them, he jerked his hands away from her like he'd been burned.
"Yeah, it's not a problem," he said, running his hand over his face. "You said that guy is a restaurant critic for the New Yorker, right?"
"He is," she confirmed, unable to hide her disappointment at his shift in demeanor.
He shook his head and laughed bitterly, "I guess I need to brace for impact then."
"I'm sorry," she began, but he returned his focus to her and shook his head.
"Listen, it's not your fault," he said, and his tone left no room for argument. He continued, "I need to go help Jesus with damage control. Make sure Ty sees you out to the taxi."
She watched as he walked around the dining room trying to help his rattled customers settle back down. He had a good reason, but something in her bones screamed that he was running away again and there was nothing she could do about it.
A headache pricked at the edges of her consciousness and she rubbed at her temples. Even if he didn't know it, he'd shown his cards. No matter how complicated their situation was, she was certain he cared about her just as much as she cared about him.
XXX
Whenever things got a little too crazy, Rick retreated to the kitchen at The Blueprint where he could lose himself in creating something for people to enjoy. When he was cooking, nothing mattered besides the dish and the dish had to be perfect. Making sure the flavor and the presentation was up to his exacting standards, left little time for overthinking anything else. He'd been in the kitchen more in the last month than he had been in the whole last year, and so much in the last week that Morgan was threatening to give him back the head chef title.
When he was cooking, he wasn't thinking about the one-star review in the New Yorker, or the falling reservation numbers that translated to fewer receipts. Cooking meant he didn't have time to miss seeing Michonne sitting at the end of the bar, pretending to work while waiting for him to come talk to her. Making sure his kitchen ran smoothly meant he could let his memories of her be crowded out of his mind.
It wasn't really working, but he had to try. He'd almost choked a guy out and then knocked him on his ass just for touching her. If Michonne had already had enough pull over him that he was willing to sacrifice his restaurant…his dream…she also had the power to completely break him.
He shook that thought away because none of it mattered anymore. He hadn't heard from her in the two weeks since that night, so maybe she took him at his word about things being too complicated even though it had been a lie. The truth of the situation was that he hadn't been able to set aside his fear to completely let her in. Either way, it was yet another regret for him to add to an already lengthy list.
For now, he was going to focus completely on making sure his kitchen was perfect. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason the dining room was totally booked that night and there was an hour long waitlist for a table. Things were looking a bit dim for a minute there, but it had turned around and he was determined to do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way.
He was putting the finishing touches on an order of Shrimp and Grits when Jesus appeared at the window.
"Boss, we got a VIP table out here you need to greet," he announced, causing Rick to roll his eyes but he didn't stop sprinkling green onions atop the dish.
"You can handle it and while you're at it, take this to table 15." When it was garnished to perfection, he sat the bowl on the bar, and pulled the next ticket. He wasn't in the mood to be the gracious, charming owner and chef. To be completely honest, he wasn't sure when he would be again.
Jesus sighed, letting his annoyance creep through. "I would but they asked for you specifically."
"Fine. Which table?" Rick threw his hand towel onto the counter in defeat. It was the part of the job he hated, but it had to be done. Besides, with the way things were going, it was shocking that anyone was requesting to see him.
"23," Jesus answered after retrieving the order from the window.
Rick's head spun around. "23? On the roof?"
Jesus nodded. "Last time I checked."
He groaned, "It's fucking November! It must be 40 degrees up there!"
The other man shrugged and backed out the door. "She wanted to sit outside and what's your motto, boss? The customer is always right?"
Rick glared at the man responsible for sending him up to the roof. "What's the rest of that, Jesus? The customer is always right except when they're wrong."
Jesus smiled and backed out of the kitchen. "I always forget that part."
Rick rubbed the back of his neck and after taking a moment to get his game face on, he headed up to the rooftop patio. It got colder with every step and he was kicking himself for not closing it after the Halloween party like he'd planned. New York winters were about the only thing that made him miss his little Georgia town.
It was just after sunset, and the strings of white lights they'd woven around the wooden trellis were on and twinkling like stars. The city skyline was beautiful from up there. It was one of the reasons he'd chosen that building for the restaurant.
He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth as he jogged up the last few steps. He wasn't looking forward to making inane small talk with the guest who was crazy enough to request a table outside on one of the first nights that you could actually see your breath.
He rounded the last corner and the sight that greeted him, stopped him in his tracks. Michonne. She was standing under the trellis wearing a long coat with her hair loose and falling down her back. She hadn't noticed him yet; and her attention was consumed by the the view of the city. She was so beautiful standing there that the sight of her removed any chill in the air. When she turned her head and saw him, her face exploded into the brilliant smile that he dreamed about every night and he forgot how to breathe.
"Hi Rick," she greeted; the sound of her voice kicking his brain back into gear. He took a few slow steps toward her and she did the same until the distance between them was almost closed.
"Michonne…what are you doing up here?"
She shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder, "I wanted to talk to you alone and the restaurant is kinda busy tonight."
He nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her. "Yeah. It's the first time it's been like this since…"
"The review. I'm so sorry about that," she apologized.
"Don't be. I told you it wasn't your fault," he said. He didn't want her to be sorry because the truth was he'd do it all again, restaurant be dammed.
She looked up at him and he saw the twinkling lights reflected in her dark eyes. "I know, but this place is your dream so I couldn't let that review stand."
He couldn't tell her that she'd given him other things to dream about, so instead he asked, "What do you mean?"
Her lips twisted into a sly grin and her eyes sparkled with mirth. "There are perks to being a bestselling author, you know. I might have tweeted out a message about how much I love The Blueprint in NYC to my followers."
He laughed, "That explains the rush of customers tonight."
"No. The glowing reviews in the Times, the Post, and the Food Network announcement about featuring The Blueprint on the next episode of City Eats is why this place is packed."
He blinked a few times as what she was telling him sank in and, when he finally processed it, his mouth fell open. "What?"
"Everything came out today. I know you don't follow that kind of thing and I asked Jesus not to tell you," she said, handing him a tablet and he dumbly swiped through the screens she had pulled up. His disbelief continued to grow as he read through the glowing reviews, as did another more earth shattering emotion he wasn't ready to put a name to.
"You did all this…for me?" He asked.
She shook her head and answered, "The hard work you put into this place did all this. I just made a few calls so people could come see for themselves."
Her words were like a bomb. This beautiful, amazing woman he'd been unable to completely open up to, had done for him what no one ever had and he was shell-shocked.
"Why? After everything that happened...why do you care about helping me?" He stuttered.
"Because I care about you. You may not believe in love, but you can't stop people from loving you, Rick; Whether you think you deserve it or not." She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world and just like that, the last brick in the wall surrounding his heart crumbled to dust.
He tried to form the right words to tell her how he felt about her; that he was already half in love with her and had been since well before their first and only date. That night, and that one kiss, only solidified that thing he already knew but refused to accept. That, aside from Carl, she was the only person in this screwed up world who gave him hope for the future.
He'd always been a man of action, so when his words failed him, he resorted to what he knew. With two purposeful steps, he moved close enough to cradle her gorgeous face in his hands. Her eyes were wide and glassy with tears but she was smiling at him and it made his heart feel impossibly lighter.
She covered his hands with hers and whispered, "I know you're scared. I am too. But I want to do this with you. I know it's going to take time, but I want to try. Are you with me?"
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers and released a sigh representing all of the hurt he'd been carrying around with him all his life. He was finally ready to let go of all of it and it was all because of the extraordinary woman in his arms.
"I'm with you," he agreed, and he'd never been more sure of anything in his entire life.
"Good," she whispered; the tip of her nose brushing against his before her warm breath tickled his lips. He didn't need any more encouragement to dip his head lower and capture her pillowy lips in a soft kiss. It was soft and moist; hot and breathy. Her hands fell to his waist as he worked his mouth against hers until a breathy moan slipped through her lips and she opened up to him. He kissed her in earnest then; hoping she felt everything he was having trouble saying. The heat rose in his cheeks as his tongue brushed hers; tentative at first, but still electric and delicious. It grew firmer and more determined, as they grew more addicted to the heat generated between them.
Even after the kiss ended, they stood in each other's embrace for a long time. The temperature was dropping but he didn't mind. With Michonne in his arms, he was warm through and through. The cold couldn't touch him anymore.
XXX
One Year Later
It was Thanksgiving night and the restaurants on Azalea Street were filled with people looking for a good meal or those needing a stiff drink after surviving the day with their families. Every restaurant was open for business except for The Blueprint, but it wasn't empty. It was the site of what Michonne hoped would become a yearly tradition.
A smile played on her lips as she looked at the faces of friends both new and old, gathered around the table. It had been her idea to host a Friendsgiving dinner after hearing so many people talk about not being able to make it home for the holiday that year. When she presented her idea to Rick, he'd offered up the lounge at The Blueprint as the perfect location much to her delight.
A year ago, he'd been open just like all the other restaurants on that street, but so much had changed since then. They'd changed and grown together in so many ways. The attraction that had been there since the second they met, had blossomed into something neither of them expected but desperately needed and they fell more in love with one another everyday.
It hadn't always been easy, like the day they told his ex and her editor they were seeing each other. Lori took it well on the surface, but the number of red marks and notes on her manuscript did increase exponentially after that. Michonne couldn't even be mad about that though. Her book was quickly climbing the bestseller list so maybe Lori's pettiness had an unintended positive consequence.
After the book was done, Lori had moved on to another author, so the only time they had to interact was when it involved the son she shared with Rick. While Lori would never be a fixture at the Friendsgiving table, Michonne would always make sure they got along for Carl's sake because if there was anyone she loved as much as Rick, it was his son.
Said son was sitting across the table with his friend Duane, plotting out what they were going to pile onto their plates. Friendsgiving was a potluck, and the table was covered with too many delicious looking foods, and she was practically starving. All they were waiting for was Rick and Morgan with the turkey. Rick had decided to deep fry it and Morgan had insisted on supervising the whole thing. All day, their differing opinions on everything from seasoning the bird to the correct frying temperature could be heard throughout the restaurant. Now, they were the hold up and Michonne was hungry enough to go drag them both out of the kitchen.
"Dinner is served!" Rick announced as he and Morgan finally emerged from the kitchen carrying the turkey to a chorus of cheers. After placing the platter on the table, Rick brushed his lips against her temple as he took the seat next to her.
"Good timing. You were about to have a mutiny on your hands," she teased, drawing his attention completely to her and stealing her breath away just like he had the night when she'd hoped he was her blind date.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he wagered, "And I'm sure you would've been the one leading it. I know how you get when you're hungry."
Unable to deny it, she just giggled and watched as his grin turned into a full blown smile. He knew her entirely too well and she loved that about him; along with the hundreds of other things she absolutely loved about him.
Their banter would've kept going if Morgan hadn't tapped his glass and commanded everyone's attention.
"Now, it's a tradition where I come from that we go around the table and say what we're thankful for," Morgan explained, and his wife, Jenny, nodded her agreement.
The smile never left Michonne's face as she listened to their friends list off the things they were thankful for; laughing out loud when Carl submitted that he was thankful for the PlayStation 4 his dad had gotten him for his birthday a few months earlier.
Jenny caught her eye and nodded, "Alright, your turn Michonne. What are you thankful for?"
Her mind went blank as she tried to reduce to a sentence or two, all of the things she thanked God for every day. She glanced over at Rick who was staring back at her, grinning, with a far away haze in his gorgeous eyes.
"I'm thankful for the string of bad blind dates that led me to you," she laughed, and his grin grew even wider until his whole face lit up.
Tyreese huffed, "I'm not thankful for those dates! Watching him pretending not to be jealous was a nightmare!"
Rick's cheeks reddened as the rest of the table fell into a fit of laughter. "I was in love with her even then. I just didn't know it," he defended, and that just made anyone who was around him during that time laugh even harder.
"What about you, Rick? What are you thankful for?" Michonne asked, trying to get them back on track so they could eat. Though entertaining, the "Rick Roast" could happen another time when they weren't all so hungry.
A blush warmed her cheeks when his hand covertly found its way under the table to rest on the invisible swell of her stomach. It was new; so new that she was still wrapping her head around the idea but Rick hadn't stopped smiling since he'd seen those two pink lines appear on the test that morning. In a year filled with blessings,Thanksgiving Day gave them yet another thing to be thankful for.
She covered his hand with hers and played with the ring she'd slipped on his finger in a private ceremony at city hall less than two months earlier. He'd only proposed a few weeks before but like everything with Rick, once he was in, he was all in and he didn't see the point in a long engagement when he already thought of her as his wife. Neither of them wanted the production of a huge wedding, so they chose to just to have Carl, Sasha, and Morgan in attendance on the Friday morning they promised their lives to each other.
She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, reminding him of their agreement to keep their latest news to themselves for a little while longer. He laughed to himself, and lifted her hand up to his lips before clutching it over his heart. He just held it there while he stared at her; his eyes exuding everything she'd ever wanted in a partner; love, protection, safety, patience, and respect. It hadn't happened exactly the way she'd expected it to, but she was happier than she'd ever dreamed she'd be.
She wondered if everything she saw in his eyes was reflected right back at him in her own.
Her question was answered when he sighed and said, "I'm just thankful for you."
The End
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!