Chapter Seven
Displays of emotion. Long-held secrets. Brand new ones. It was enough to make a grown man shudder. And it did. Nothing quite like having your guts ripped out and shoved back in place without benefit of anesthesia.
Yeah, that was it like. Exactly.
It wasn't something he did often, but Michael admitted he was unhinged, unbalanced and naked, even if he had a pair of jeans on.
He needed to go for a run. He needed physical activity to cleanse. But he wouldn't leave Fi. He knew she needed the same thing, only she wasn't supposed to run now. Walking only. Yoga. And he was not doing that.
It was still early morning. The sun started peeking over the edge of the deck. The rain had stopped, and the planter of bougainvillea she had set in a corner of the deck emitted a neon pink glow that almost hurt to look at it, it was so bright.
On the upside, Fiona was in the same edgy, unbalanced state as he was. There were some things they did very, very well. There were others, they didn't. Like this.
He reached for a yogurt and handed one to her. He was barefooted and shirtless. Fi had pulled on a short floaty thing that was held up by elastic under her arms.
She smoothed her hand over his back and ribs, gently touching the red and purpling bruises O'Neill had inflicted. His eyes met hers. "I'm okay."
"Maybe."
He reached for a spoonful of her peach yogurt while she reached for his blueberry.
They hadn't really talked much since they had both exhaled after too many tears. He had washed his face and shaved. She had taken a shower. That had helped with the outside.
Now, he needed to keep things calm on the inside. To feel normal. But normal had just been redefined and permanently altered. The same out of control feeling he'd had when he was burned resurfaced. Experience taught him how to deal with that. One thing at a time.
He hoped the technique worked as well with this.
Just as he grappled with making sense of what had happened after he was burned, he was struggling with how to put everything Fi had told him together in a way that made sense.
Miscarriages-two of them-wounding things Fi had lived with for a long time were new and deeply troubling thoughts for him, especially when he could see his actions were the reason why she couldn't bring herself tell him before this.
Yeah, this.
He was going to be a father. So why did he fear that idea as much as he loved it? Twins. He was speechless when he looked at the sonogram, the image of his children growing, being nourished in Fi's womb. A possessiveness different but so much like the possessiveness he had for Fiona surged.
If he was struggling to think about having two children at once, then what was she thinking? Two children. That was so far beyond good there wasn't a word for it. But two children at once? The idea flattened him. It invited failure, and that would be one thing he would never want-to fail his family.
His family. Fi, himself, their children.
Random thoughts flew this way and that way, battering him from the inside out. Having children and a wife made operatives, especially toasted ones, vulnerable. The minute Fi started looking pregnant, life would become more dangerous for her. So how was he going to protect her?
He glanced over at her. "Sam knows you're pregnant."
"He said I had the look. "
"You do?"
"Apparently. But he doesn't know about the twins," she said quietly. "Jesse does."
"Jesse?" The spoonful of yogurt on the way to his mouth paused midair. "You told Jesse?"
"Not on purpose, Michael!"
He laughed. "Really." So that was what the lovvvves was about.
Fi waved her spoon at him. "Really. I went to the doctor expecting one thing and then bam, twins, Michael. Twins. Eighteen, nineteen weeks, not eight. And then he called you my significant other and said I was old. I mean old to be a first time mother. I think I was in shock. So I went to Amelia's and was reading the information from the doctor. Jesse had been there on a lunch date. I didn't see him until he stopped by my table. And then he spotted the brochure on twins."
Michael's spoon finished the journey to his mouth. Teasing Fi felt normal. "So Jesse knew about the twins before I did. Huh."
Fi skipped right past light moment and went straight to serious.
"Is that important to you? I mean I knew first, then somehow you figured it out yesterday morning, well, not about the twins, and then a whole bunch of people at the doctor's office knew. And then," Fi paused, the timbre of her voice changed and Michael could hear her distress. "I was trying to figure out what to tell you about . . . what had happened before. Jesse said if I trusted you with my life, why wouldn't I trust you . . .with this." She stopped, looked up at him and blinked. "I am sorry, Michael."
He put the cup on the counter and framed her face between his hands. "Please do not ever again apologize for any of that. Please, Fi."
She nodded. "We're kind of a mess this morning."
"Yeah. We are."
"Do you-" Fi started to ask a question when Michael stopped her with a quick kiss.
"Fi, I want to. Do you? There are a lot of things I don't understand, a lot of questions I don't have answers to. The only thing I know is what we should do before anything else."
"I think so, too."
"No rings."
"I want them for the ceremony."
He nodded his agreement. "Just us?"
"We need witnesses."
"That could get tricky." Michael sighed.
"We don't have to tell our mums."
"Really, Fi? Do you really want your mother to hate me for the rest of our lives?"
She sighed. "No, I guess not."
When Max called with the news that O'Neill was on his way back to prison by the end of the week, he also requested Michael's presence at a debriefing later that day.
Fi knew told him she had things to take care of, including renting a car and going to Madeline's to see her mother. "I need to find out how she and Sean are getting back."
"Why don't you call Sam? You don't have to rent a car, and I'd-"
"Like to wrap me in cotton wool that looks like Sam. I'll be okay, Michael. Bad guys are gone."
"We don't know that for sure."
"Go see Max. I'll be fine, Michael."
He frowned.
"Come by your mom's when you're done."
"Going to Little Havana first."
Fi let out a woosh of air. "We're really doing this."
"We are."
Fiona was surprised to discover Madeline alone in her house when she got there in the early afternoon. Michael's mother had a suspiciously sweet and gentle smile for her.
"Well, hello, sweetheart. If you're looking for your family, Sam took your mom and Sean out on a boat. He thought they'd enjoy the trip while they were here. They should be back soon."
Fiona took another look at Madeline. She'd been crying. Her mascara was smudging. "Are you okay?"
"No, Fiona, I am not."
Madeline related what had transpired in her home after Fiona had left so quickly last night, and the distressing news her mother had revealed.
"I'm sorry you found out about it like that," Fiona said. She was looking out the door, purposefully not looking at Michael's mother. "But Mum was wrong. He knows."
It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't completely honest, but Fi had too much honesty in the past 24 hours. She had firebombed her own comfort zone and Michael's, too.
When she glanced over to Madeline there was something akin relief on her face.
"We're good, Madeline. I love your son. You know that."
The cloud in Madeline's face disappeared. "I've known that for a long time. I've just never heard you say it . . . so clearly."
"Well, we're practicing. One day at a time, that sort of thing. I'm not really sure spies can be domesticated."
"I hadn't thought about it that way. There's something else," Maddie said.
"Mum." Fiona sighed.
"I have to say, I'm almost relieved she's not here today."
What could she say to that? That she was relieved, too?
"Mum can be difficult. I've been told I'm a lot like her," Fi said. "Might not be a good thing. I think losing someone the way she lost my sister changed her. I know you've thought about losing Michael or Nate."
Madeline lit a cigarette. "I think I lost both of them for a while. But they're back now. I know I have you to thank you for Michael being here." She touched Fiona's hand briefly. "I have many things to thank you for."
Fi ignored the direction that might take them. "No, not me. I think Michael's return to Miami started with a bunch of spy burners," she said. "I just wanted him to stay in one place for a while, use the same name and have the same address for a year or so."
"That's interesting," Madeline observed. Whatever else she was about to say was lost when Nate arrived with the newest Westen. The baby was fussing, and Nate was juggling diaper bag, infant and child carrier. As usual, his wife Ruth did not accompany him. Maddie stubbed out her cigarette immediately, removed the ash tray from the table and went to wash her hands.
"Let me see that sweet thing," she said, taking her grandson from his carrier.
Nate greeted Fiona with a simple hug. "Hey, good to see you, Fi. Where's Uncle Mike?"
"Work. He'll be here when he's done."
Fiona was watching Maddie cuddle and talk to her grandson. It struck her that an in a few months, she would have two such infants.
When Madeline's phone rang, Nate answered then held it out to his mother. "Mom, it's your neighbor, Laura. She says it's important."
Maddie handed Nate's son back to him and went to take the phone call. Nate looked at Fiona.
"Hey, Charlie, meet your Aunt Fi." He smiled and asked Fiona, "want to hold him?"
Fiona couldn't take her gaze away from Nate's tiny son. "Oh, I don't know, Nate. I've never held a baby."
"It doesn't hurt," Nate said, matter-of-factly. "Easy. Just support his neck and head with your arm."
He transferred his son to Fiona. "See, you're natural. Look at that."
"He's so . . . small," Fiona said in a hushed tone, taking the scent of baby powder, new skin, his big dark eyes and a sweetly bowed mouth.
"Not really," Nate said, looking down at his son. "He's almost nineteen pounds at three months. He's a big boy. Might be a football player."
When the baby started fussing, Nate reached into the diaper bag and grabbed a soft white pad and put it on Fi's shoulder. "He just ate before we came over. Probably needs to burp. Here, do this," he instructed as he helped Fi maneuver his son to her shoulder.
And that is exactly how Michael found Fiona when he walked into his mother's kitchen. Holding a baby in her arms. He stopped and stared.
When Fiona saw him she smiled and stated the obvious. "I'm holding your nephew, Michael. Want to?"
"Uh, uh, not now. We got a meeting, Fi."
"Now?"
"Yeah. In Little Havana. We gotta go."
"Oh, all right," she said as she reluctantly handed Nate's child back to him.
Madeline had been watching the entire scene from the corner of the living room. She was listening to her neighbor Laura talk about a break-in at her house, but the most interesting thing was happening right in front of her eyes. She'd seen a reluctant Fiona gently cradle Nate's child and Michael's dead stop reaction when he saw her, and then the look that crossed his face when he met her gaze.
She smiled. She'd wager everything she owned that Michael and Fiona would be providing her with another grandchild before the year ended.
Life was good.
