Chapter 7:

Erase/Rewind

LATE SEPTEMBER, 2010.

"Think I'm doing this wrong."

Rick helplessly stared at the plastic and cloth contraption in his hand. Is this the back or the front? he wondered, utterly confused.

"No," he mumbled to himself, flipping the thing over, "the line is to the back, Mickey mouse is to the front."

He glanced at Carl who sat bare-bottomed on Michonne's bed. His pink mouth in a perfect little 'O' as he stared right back in doe-eyed wonder. The kid was no help, Rick thought. As a matter of fact, he refused to keep still adding to Rick's torment. Quickly it became some sort of a game; every two seconds Carl would roll over, slide down the bed, and try to make a run for it.

"How 'bout we try this again, huh buddy?"

"Mamma come," Carl stretched out his arm, opening and closing his pudgy fist, trying to summon his mother to save him from his dumbass father. Poor guy.

Rick fit his hands under Carl's arms and eased him onto his back again. "Mamma's busy. We're gonna do this on our own. She's getting dressed, so I need for you to cooperate with me. Capisci?"

But no, 'No capisce?' With a squeal, Carl immediately flipped over onto his stomach and scurried his naked behind out of Rick's reach. With a growl of frustration Rick lunged for the toddler, he had no clue how he was supposed to this—hold the baby down, fit the diaper just right, and peel off those military-issued sticker tabby things, all at the same time.

"Rick, it's not that hard," Michonne said, approaching from behind. "This is the third time I've had to show you this." Apparently, she'd been quietly observing his epic failure.

He held up the nappy in exasperation. "The kid's a wiggling monster, you know that."

She laughed. "And you're a grown man. Look, hand me that."

The spark of amusement in her eyes made it hard for him not to return her smile. Rick grabbed a stuffed giraffe she pointed to lying at the foot of the bed. And as she proceeded to sing 'Hey Diddle, Diddle' with the spotted toy, keeping Carl entertained, she simultaneously directed Rick step by step on how to get the job done.

"You know you don't have to do this. I got it covered," she said.

He stood back to admire his handiwork. "Aw, it's nothing. I want to, alright? How else am I gonna learn?"

"Thanks." She handed him Carl's pants and sweater. "Okay, Papa. Do your thang." She giggled and walked back into the closet.

Papa? Think he preferred plain ole 'Dad.' Or 'Father.'

While he dressed his son for daycare, Michonne ran hither thither getting herself organized for work. Today made it almost a week since she'd agreed to come to live in his family's house. Six days to be exact, and this was her second day back out to Signature Delicacies. This was quickly becoming a habit; him dropping by in the mornings, and one or two evenings included. It was the part of the day he started looking forward to.

With Negan gone, out in California on business, Rick felt more at ease to just enjoy getting to know his son. And of course, Michonne as well. He realized, however, that the more time spent in her company the more difficult it was becoming to remain objective.

She paused for a moment to rake her hair back into a loose ponytail, and Rick watched as her slender hands, delicate and long, looped the thin strap around her thick locs. The stretching movement untucked her white blouse from the narrow waistband of her black skirt, and for a tantalizing second, he caught a glimpse of the smooth curve of her waist.

Michonne held his gaze in the mirror. "Stop it."

Rick froze. A lack of decorum caused him to openly gape at her petite and curvaceous body accentuated by her fitted uniform. "Stop what?"

She arched a brow. "You know what. You're making me uncomfortable."

He shifted. "I um, I like observing your process, that's all."

"Yeah right. Real entertaining me scrambling to make myself presentable."

"You don't have to try too hard."

She turned to face him. That subtle gaze assessing him. "That's bullshit and you know it. I'm thirty, not twenty-one. And I haven't had a full night's rest since Carl."

Then off the cuff, he offered to hire her a nanny, which would eliminate the need to rush Carl off to daycare every morning. But Michonne shut that down instantly, not even willing to give it a moment's consideration. Rick rubbed the back of his neck. He reminded her that he too gets a say in Carl's life now. That she wasn't doing this alone anymore.

It took a full minute before she conceded. "You're right," she sighed, "I'm sorry, I have to adjust my thinking. Okay, what else did you have in mind? Hit me."

"Well, Dr. Cloyd is one of the best pediatricians in the city. I want us to take him for a full checkup."

"My boy is as healthy as a horse," she gestured to the toddler. With his boundless energy, the tiny human was running around, back and forth, the picture of perfect health. "But, sure, wouldn't hurt," she said, "Besides, there's so much news on some virus that's been going around...so yeah I'm good for a doctor's visit. That was easy, what else you got?"

He pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. "I'm leaving in about fifteen minutes. If you're ready by then I'll drop you off. I mean the both of you. Save you the commute."

"You mean you don't like me driving your son in my eight-year-old Corolla, right?" she laughed and folded her arms. "You are so transparent. And shallow. But alright. Fine. I'll ride with you. How about twice for the week?"

"How about every day of the week?"

"No. Nuh, uh. You're being ridiculous."

"Come on."

"No, you come on."

He stood before her as she sat at the edge of the bed slipping her shoes onto her feet. "Say yes. You know you want to. You love my leather seats."

"Mmm," she murmured, thoughtful, "they do feel nice and comfy...but still."

"Think about it…" he sat next to her, "you can relax on your way to work, let Jerry keep an eye on the road..." He paused, letting the idea sink in.

"Then there is that. The drive out here is an extra twenty minutes of traffic."

"A total inconvenience on my part."

He reached out to pinch the crease of her shirt-collar. In the process, his thumbs grazed her neck. She flinched and brushed away his hand, not wanting to be touched. Or was it she didn't like to be touched by him?

"Fine." She got up and lifted Carl onto her hip. "Come on pumpkin. Time to go see your friends. Dictator Daddy is trying to get on my nerves. Yes, he is. Yes, he is." She held him up high and blew raspberries into his stomach making him fold into a ball of giggles.

"I won't even respond to that," Rick said, watching the two with awe. With admiration. With envy. But over all else, with undeniable joy.

"Does Mamma care?"

Prompted by Michonne shaking her head Carl answered, "No."

"Very good!" she beamed and held up her palm for him to slap, "Give me high five. You're so smart. I love you so much."

Rick grabbed her purse and Carl's bag and followed her out.

"Morning Miss Andrews." In the driveway, Jerry stood waiting with a town car already running.

"Morning Jerry," she replied, placing Carl in his car seat. "You look good today."

"I try," he responded, holding the door open for her, "As usual, you don't look too bad yourself, with that big beautiful smile just brightening up the day."

Michonne lightly tapped his arm. "Hey now, aren't you a smooth operator." She then walked around and climbed in the other side.

Rick rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Jerry, think we need to get going."

His supposed bodyguard cleared his throat. "Yes, Boss."

Once they rolled out, heading towards the estate's gates, Michonne said, "Oh, Jerry, can you play 'Wheels on the bus'?"

Rick's arm shot out in protest. "Hold on, I have to listen to the Sports update, the business news, then we can have the sing-song, afterward."

Michonne scoffed. "Newsflash jackass, being a parent requires you to give everything. If I can't listen to Adele in the morning, then neither can you listen to Bill whoever."

"Hey, another reason to hire a nanny, it'll make things easier for yourself."

Michonne groaned in frustration. "I'm not interested in making things easier for myself. Besides, I will constantly be worried about what's going on with my kid and some nanny."

"Not just some nanny, we'll hire the best."

"Daycare centers provide a formal, structured environment Carl won't get being at home. Not to mention the advantages of being around his peers. And where he's at, the members of staff are all trained specifically in early childhood development and are fully capable of organizing the right mix of activities for babies, toddlers, and kids. Activities that teach them necessary skills. Carl spends his days doing exciting projects, honing his capabilities, and he's thriving after only three months. I'm good with that."

Her sounding like a documentary made him chuckle. "I hate to say it, but Shane's right about you. You're full of surprises."

"Yeah? Well here's another one for you: Siddiq's getting married this weekend and I need you to give me security clearance on a date."

Rick caught Jerry's darting gaze in the rearview mirror. He wasn't chuckling anymore. " A date? You have a date?"

"Mmmm," she squinted her eyes, "Yes and no. There is someone who I know is going to ask me, and, I'm going to say yes. So when he comes to pick me up here, I don't want your goons to hassle him." She reached forward and squeezed Jerry's shoulder. "No offense Jer."

"None taken Ma'am."

She looked back at Rick. "Okay?"

Something in the road made the car swerve and Rick's knee bumped into hers. She jerked and from the corner of his eye, Rick observed as she crossed her legs so that her body now twisted towards Carl and away from him. She really couldn't stand any contact with him.

"Sure," Rick said, trying not to read too much into her reaction. "This guy, give me his name and details, and I'll see to it he gets the okay."

She sighed in relief. "Great. Thanks. Gotta be honest with you, was a bit nervous about that one."

The corners of his mouth tugged down. "Why?"

She looked out her window. "You know why. I'm trying like hell to earn your trust; moved at the drop of a hat, put up with your dipshit brothers." She laughed bitterly. "I know you want to be close to Carl, keep him safe, and I'm here for that too, but I also know that you're not that different from Negan. You think I'm shady, you're just trying to be nice about it."

"Why would you think that?" he asked, pushing past the sudden thickness in his throat.

"The way you look at me, Rick. Always searching, second-guessing. I don't know. Anyways, I'll stay here for as long as it would take for you to believe I'm not a deceitful devil-woman. I'm here until you can see me as a friend."

"And then what happens?" He wouldn't even bother with denying her accusations.

She licked those full lips of hers and said, "I get back to my life, of course. We share custody, set up a visitation schedule; one that works for you and for me. And we move forward."

Rick's jaw hardened. Visitation? She can't be that naive, can she? He opened up his laptop, dropping the discussion. The rest of the morning ride was spent looking over the company's financial reports to the soundtrack list of Hoopla Kidz.

It was another late evening when Rick strolled into the house exhausted and a bit on edge from working twice as hard to meet his deadlines. Getting a Romano-Grimes Department store out on the West coast was proving to be more difficult than the company originally anticipated.

However, discovering the copacetic scene of his mother and Carl snuggled together on the living room couch, engrossed in a video playing on her iPad, was heartwarming. As well as observing Michonne reclined on the floor looking content with stroking Rufus who was curled up in her lap.

"Um, Michonne," he called out and she looked up at him with a smile, her deep pool eyes unraveling him. Rick swallowed against the flutter in his stomach. "Could you give me a minute?"

"Hey," she said following him out to the corridor. "How'd it go today with the reports? You dazzled your associates with those numbers?"

Rick couldn't remember the last time a woman showed a hint of interest in the details of his unglamorous job as a CFO. During one of their morning drives, he'd told Michonne that he'd set up numerous meetings with engineers, trying to match his budget with their innovative ideas whilst keeping in mind California's protocols and building regulations.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he said, "It went pretty good, knocked it out of the park, thanks for asking."

"No problem, I'm glad to hear it. Carl missed you these last couple of days. Seems like you're growing on him pretty fast. You gonna come tuck him in tonight?"

"If you don't mind, that'll be nice." The glint in her eyes told him she was pleased and it made him feel...hmm, something. He wasn't quite sure but, what did you call...No. How do you refer to feeling taller, bigger, stronger? Yeah, because seeing how she stared at him with, dare he say satisfaction, made him feel just that—taller, bigger, stronger. It was nice. It was…

He cleared his throat perplexed as to why at that moment he was tripping on analyzing his feelings.

'Get a grip Dude!'

"So, you and my Mom?" he asked.

"Yeah, took Carl for ice-cream, then went shopping at some store I had never heard about, and understandably so, the prices were...something else," she shook her head in disbelief. "Anyways, Veronica could not be stopped. But we had a great time, it was nice."

"Good. She likes you, and we know she's head over feet for Carl."

"How could she not, he's adorable. And not just because he has her genes."

He smiled. "And mine."

She rolled her eyes and huffed playfully. "Yes, Rick, and yours. Geez, the ego on you."

He laughed. "Yeah umm anyways, with regards to your request, it's uh..." he stammered, hesitating to get back to his main intentions, knowing he was about to put a frown on her face. "It's a no-go on your friend for this wedding. Sorry, that's how it goes sometimes." He took tentative steps backward and pointed his thumb in the same direction. "Gonna go wash up. See you at the dinner table."

"Hold up," she said, preventing him from making an easy escape. "Sorry? No, you're gonna have to add an explanation to that. What is it? What did you find?"

"Ummm," Rick murmured, his gaze fell to his phone as he scrolled through his contacts with no one to call in particular. He continued walking off. "Some sort of drug bust."

"What?!" She wrapped her fingers around his arm pulling him to a stop. "Wait, you mean like a little weed? Because that's not so bad."

"Yes Michonne, that is bad. And there's more to it than that."

"Really? How much more?"

Rick tilted his head side to side. "You know, a lot more… Gang stuff."

Michonne's eyes bugged out of her head. "Gabriel?! In a gang? Are you serious? His father's a Minister."

Shit! Busted. Maybe he really should've requested that report even though his mind had already been made up. He shrugged. "You never know with these kinds of things. Anyway, look it's almost dinner and I can't talk more right now."

"But I already said yes." She blocked his path.

"I said I'm sorry. You'll just have to go it alone."

"To a wedding? Hell no." Okay, you know what? I'll just-I'll just tell him to meet me there."

"No."

She frowned at his disapproval. "Rick, really."

"I just…" He swung his gaze away from hers. "Safety, we need to keep that as a priority. Like we discussed. What else do you want from me?"

"What I want is…" she sighed, yielding. "Forget it. Give me a couple of hours, I'll find someone else."

He froze. Someone else? "Isn't the wedding tomorrow?"

"Yeah so? I need an escort, someone to keep me company. I'm gonna find me a date. It's not hard."

"Cocky aren't we?"

"No Rick," she smirked. "I know what I'm working with. Listen, give me an hour and I'll get back to you, okay?"

"Wait," he called out, stopping her from strutting away, "What...what about me?" His stomach flipped.

'Hell, why did I say that?'

"If it's just an escort that you need I could...you know..." His pulse raced. He had no idea what in the world had gotten into him, or what the hell he was doing. He didn't want to place himself in this position, but for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't stop the words falling out of his mouth. Which, apparently, was now detached from his brain. "If you would consider it, me, then I won't mind being your um, date. As a favor of course. Just a friendly favor. I mean I do like weddings so..."

Oh god! He should just shut up. Better yet turn, and walk straight to his den, unlock the safe, retrieve his revolver, and shoot himself.

'Okay, okay let's rewind this a bit.'

He glanced up to find her staring blankly at him. A clear signal that he should quit this embarrassment.

"No," she said quietly.

His brows hiked up.

"I mean, no thank you. Think that isn't such a good idea." She averted her eyes. "You understand."

'Yeah, yeah.'

He nodded, his face flushed red. "Of course."

"Good. Give me one hour?"

He didn't know why, but he felt offended. Why wouldn't it be a good idea? They were getting along, weren't they? And like she said, she just wanted the company. Wasn't he good company? Hadn't he kept his temper in check, proved to be a gentleman? Yes. He had. So then it must've been something else. Something she was probably hiding from him.

"You know what, I don't have time for this. I'm going with you and that's final. I don't want to hear anything more about it."

He walked away leaving her stunned at his decision/outburst.

'Too much dude. Do you have any idea who you are right now?'

No. He had no goddamned clue. Rick stopped in his tracks and turned back. He couldn't destroy what little trust she'd developed in him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. The truth is it'll be nice to spend some time with you and Carl, that's all. Okay?"

She shook her head, refusing to be placated so easily. "Did you really do a background check on Gabriel?"

He decided it was best not to respond to that. He already was in deep shit.

"So you lied? Why? Because I'm trying my best here." Her last words choked out.

"I know."

"You're fucking unbelievable."

He stepped closer. "I know."

She stood opposite him looking fittingly solemn, and annoyed. Long gone was the warm cheerful glint that greeted him minutes ago. "Just forget it, alright?" She started walking back to the living area, hands balled into fists, and Rick ran after her.

"Michonne." When he got near he reached out and snatched her arm, spinning her round to face him. But she refused to meet his eye, instead, she resolutely focused beyond his shoulder.

"Don't." She pulled away from his grip. "Don't bother coming by after dinner. Carl's had a long day, he needs to rest."

Rick felt every bit of a jackass right then as he watched her storm off down the hallway.

Rick tugged on the hem of his jacket, wondering if the three-piece Zegna suit he'd chosen was too much. He hoped not. It was either that or a tuxedo. And in any case, according to his sources, there wasn't enough time for him to change, Michonne would be leaving soon.

With one last fix of his hair, he knocked on her door, mentally prepared for whatever tongue lashing she had in store for him. Rick, however, was not prepared for the vision that appeared before him. His brows jumped to his hairline and he felt his heart hammer in his chest, something he couldn't recall ever happening in years. She was stunning. In a simple floor-length, ivory and gold, Indian styled dress, Michonne looked breathtaking. It was ironic because unlike the day before Rick now had no memory on how to speak, he was reduced to muteness. Instead, his eyes meticulously studied the way the chiffon material was elaborately wrapped around her shapely torso and draped over her shoulder.

"Why are you here?" she asked, with a dip of her brow.

"Am I on time?" he managed to mumble.

Her expression was thoughtful. "I said no to this, remember?" Her dangling gold earrings and bangles made tinkling sounds as she brought a nervous hand to her throat.

"Yeah, I remember."

"And, I didn't cancel. I'm expected to meet him in less than an hour."

"Well, I could keep Carl," Rick improvised, "so you could be free to socialize with your date." He wrenched his gaze away from hers, spied his son across the room, and stepped inside to collect him.

Carl looked dapper in cream-colored cotton pajama pants, with a long-sleeved mustard top matching perfectly with his Mamma.

Rick picked him up from where he sat on the floor with his blocks. "You can meet us downstairs when you're done."

Michonne's mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out. She gestured towards the bed and he grabbed up the baby bag before heading out the door.

"I'm sorry," he said, minutes later once they were bundled up in her sedan. "About what I did, ruining your plans. Interfering unnecessarily with your personal life. I made the wrong call and I'm sorry. "

When she didn't respond he added, "Please, I only wanna make it up to you."

She side-eyed him.

"What, you think I don't? Listen, for the next few hours you're stuck with me. You and Mr. what's his face. Why not make the best of it?"

She shook her head and chuckled. "I don't want to be late. Let's go." As her hand reached for the ignition, Rick placed his fingers on her wrist to hold her attention.

"You look beautiful by the way."

She glimpsed at him, perplexed.

"You do," he insisted. "In that dress? Trust me, you wouldn't have stayed alone for too long."

"I know," she said, with a half smile tugging at her dark-red lips, "And it's called a sari."

He laughed at her cockiness. Clearly, she was still pissed, but he wouldn't let the night end with this rift between them.

"Truce?" He extended his hand and she shook it.

"Truce."

He lingered, gliding his thumb back and forth over her skin. Her palm was soft, inviting, and a look passed between them. In reality, because of Carl, they were stuck together for the rest of their existence. And Rick concluded, what would be so wrong with that? She loved his son, and vice-versa. No one who spent five minutes with them could deny that. Together with her intellect, her self-assuredness, the way she stood up to him, maybe, he thought, his luck had changed with this woman. This woman who was exactly who she said she was.

His eyes pierced hers for a beat too long and she broke the spell by taking back her hand...as usual. Rick buckled in his seat wondering how he would make this work. He wasn't sure, but he knew that something had to give, that he'd figure it out.

As she drove out the cobblestone driveway, his phone rang. An immediate tightness in his chest occurred at the sight of the name on the screen. He contemplated not answering the call but thought better of it as this could be the opportunity to call off Negan's dogs.

"Yeah," he said into the speaker, keeping his voice neutral.

"Hey it's me. I think I finally got something."

Rick's heart sank a little but kept his resolve. "Don't think I need it anymore."

The line went quiet for a while, but then Simon said, "You don't?"

"No." He stole a glance at the beauty beside him. "Things changed."

"Really? Huh. Gotta tell yuh, what I have here is what you'd call an Ace in the hole, my friend. Your brother paid a lot of money for this. Hear what, why don't I just fax the first few pages? That's right...pages. Trust me, you'll be singing a different tune when you read what I've dug up. They don't call me the bulldog for nothing, everyone's got secrets."

"Alright," Rick muttered, turning towards his window. "Might as well send the whole thing. I'll call you when your monies are paid in full."

Before the s.o.b. could respond, Rick hung up.

"Everything okay?"

Rick looked over at Michonne to discover an expression of concern on her face. He wanted to force a smile but couldn't, instead, he shook his head swallowing against the bitterness that now seeped in.

"It's nothing," he said, "Just a business deal gone bad."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

No, I'm sorry, he shouted in his head.

He couldn't keep up with this charade for much longer. He would need to run interference, figure out how to quickly and efficiently come to a settlement before the decision was made for him.