Chapter Twenty-Four (Jane POV)

"There's no easy way to break this news so I'm just going to say it," I preface with a dramatic sigh, "I'm pregnant. And the baby is Michael's."

This is the second time in less than six months that I've had my mother, father and grandmother situated together on the couch to tell them something shocking. The first time, I was announcing a road trip which, incidentally, feels like a lifetime ago. Back then, Michael and I were just beginning to form a tentative friendship. And now, we're expecting a child together. Expectedly then, given the weighty nature of my announcement, I'm met with an array of exaggerated facial expressions.

Abuela, unsurprisingly, regards me with a mixture of surprise and disappointment. Mom…well, she's reserved, probably because she's suspected for a week now ever since morning sickness (which I never experienced with Mateo at all and is also a misnomer because no way in hell does it only happen in the morning) has become my latest and most enduring pastime. I've been living on a steady diet of Gingerale and Saltines and keeping in close proximity of the bathroom. My mother is shrewd enough to recognize the signs. But my father's reaction is the most telling of all. He looks as if he's about to sail off into the stratosphere on a cloud of pure elation. However, his happiness is tempered an instant later with frowning confusion.

"Wait a minute. How are you having Michael's baby? You two haven't reconciled, have you? You kept that a secret from me?"

"No, Dad. Michael and I didn't reconcile."

I can now say the words without bursting into tears. Those first couple of days after our confrontation, however, I couldn't even think about him without choking up. The pain felt like it would swallow me whole. But, eventually, I picked myself up again. After all, I had survived his "death" and found a way to be happy again. I'll survive his rejection too.

"If you and Michael are not together," Dad presses me further, "then how did this happen?"

"The usual way, Rogelio. She and Michael had sex," Mom provides dryly before I can stammer an explanation. Abuela chokes in dismay at the statement but Mom doesn't acknowledge her reaction. She looks back at me for confirmation. "That happened almost six weeks ago, right?"

"Right," I confirm around the lump of bile that rises in my throat, "Before his brother's funeral." This is so not the time to throw up, however. I'm waiting with baited breath for Abuela to respond, mentally preparing myself for her stinging reprimand but she says nothing. I glance over at her in expectation, making a gesture for her to speak her mind. "Go on," I urge when she remains silent, "Let me have it. Tell me how disappointed you are."

"No estoy decepcionado. Estoy triste," Abuela says, "Puedo ver que esto te está causando dolor. Pero eres un adulto, Jane. Tienes que tomar tus propias decisiones porque eres el que tiene que vivir con las consecuencias."

"That's it?" I burst out, "That's all you're going to say? I tell you I'm about to become an unwed mother again and you're shrugging it away?"

"Es tu vida."

Not knowing whether I should be distressed or relieved by her reaction, I throw a desperate glance over at Mom. "What about you? What do you think?"

"I think you wouldn't be telling us unless you'd already decided to keep the baby," she replies softly, "And, if that's the case, when are you going to tell Michael?"

Ever since I told Mom the full story of what happened to Michael she's relaxed her adamant stance that I should keep my distance from him. I think, like me, she had been hoping fervently that there was a reason for Michael's erratic behavior the day of his brother's funeral. When she finally had one, she was relieved and more than willing to forgive him. It was as if she had been granted permission to love him again and, since then, she has been much less reticent when his name is mentioned.

I suppose that's the reason she finally decided to reveal to me that she had hidden a letter that Michael had sent to me in the early weeks of our estrangement. She had intercepted it one day while checking the mail and decided to keep it from me. At first, I was infuriated because all I could think about was the many missed opportunities I had to make things right with him. I was especially angry when I was able to finally read his heartbroken account of what he had been through when the pain was still fresh, before bitterness and anger had turned him cold and apathetic.

And so, I lashed out. I wrongly held my mother responsible for Michael's rejection and placed all of the "if onlys" squarely on her shoulders. If only I had read the letter and learned the truth sooner, if only she hadn't been so presumptuous and hidden from me in the first place. If only I had been able to comfort Michael when he needed me most…maybe he and I would be together right now. And she had taken that blame too, perhaps because she felt guilty for encouraging me to cut Michael off in the first place or maybe because she'd kept the letter to herself.

But, ultimately, I came to realize it wasn't her fault. It was mine. I had to come to grips with that truth. What happened between me and Michael rests firmly on my shoulders. Because even if she had been given me the letter, there was still a good chance I might not have read it or I would have read it too late. Michael and I might very still be in the exact same place because my own stubborn resolve. Eventually, I told Mom that and apologized to her.

I was glad to have finally made peace with her but my relationship with Michael, or lack thereof, remains as wrecked as ever. He practically ordered me out of his life the other day and he hasn't made a single overture to take it back. I'm not really sure that knowing about the baby will change his feelings one bit. Although, my father certainly seems to think otherwise.

"If you're in need of volunteers, Jane, I will be happy to share the blessed news with Michael!" Dad volunteers excitedly, "Please, allow me to do it. I can hardly wait to witness his explosion of pure joy with my own eyes."

"Rogelio!" Mom admonishes him in her usual way, "It's not up to you. It's up to Jane. She has to decide what she wants to do."

Three pairs of eyes simultaneously swing towards me in silent anticipation. But it's Mom who asks me directly, "So what are you going to do?"

The question actually catches me off guard. Beyond deciding to go through with the pregnancy I really haven't given much thought to the future. My last interaction with Michael didn't go quite the way I had anticipated. I had expected him to be angry but I had never imagined how angry he would be. I hadn't expected that he would want to sever all ties with me. It wasn't even what he said really, although the words had impacted me like a kick in the chest, but it was how he looked when he said them. Michael had meant every word. He was really done.

The finality of it all hasn't completely settled on me yet. How can it when I'm still in love with him, when I'm expecting his child? I can't quite conceive my life without him yet…not again, not this soon but he is clearly ready to move on from me. I just want to try to move on. I need to know what my life looks like without you. His words flitter through my mind presently, a brutal reminder of where his headspace is. He wants a life without me in it. I haven't caught up yet.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Ma," I sigh wearily, dropping despondently into the nearest chair and sprawling there. "I don't even know if I should tell Michael about the baby after… Well, you know what happened."

She certainly did. They all did. I tearfully told them my sad tale that same night Michael and I talked after I returned home later that evening sobbing and defeated. They knew that Michael had rejected me, had made it painfully clear that he never wanted to see me again. Thankfully, no one had dared to tell me afterwards that it had been for the best. In fact, both Mom and Abuela had expressed regret for encouraging me to keep my distance from Michael in the first place and apologized for their part in our rift. Of course, it was too late to rectify the damage and their remorse is only a small consolation in this whole, convoluted mess.

"Maybe he's better off not knowing," I mumble to myself.

And though I hadn't meant it for anyone's ears, my father responds as if I had addressed him directly. "No!" he cries out in vehement protest, "You cannot seriously be considering keeping your pregnancy a secret from Michael!"

"He never wants to see me again, Dad," I remind him tersely, "That comes straight from his mouth. The last thing he wants is to have a baby with me. I'd be sparing him if I raised this baby on my own."

"It is not sparing him," Dad replies, "It is a lie and you shouldn't do it. Michael wants children."

I perk up in spite of my resolve to remain neutral and unaffected. "How do you know that?" I ask more anxiously than I intend, "Is that what he told you?"

"Well…not in so many words," Dad replies hesitantly.

And, like that, my hope dims just as quickly as it flared. "So that means no. He didn't tell you he wanted kids so I'm right back at square one."

"Además, ¿cómo planeas mantener esto en secreto?" Abuela asks dubiously, "¡Eventualmente su condición será muy obvia!"

"You're not going to tell him the baby is Rafael's, are you?" Mom follows up anxiously, "Because I would like to go on record to say that is a very bad idea."

"Estoy de acuerdo," Abuela says.

"Me too," Dad chimes in, "How could you even consider something so duplicitous?"

"Okay, first of all, I'm not passing this baby off as Rafael's," I interject quickly before their wild speculations can escalate, "This isn't the Passions of Santos. Besides that, what makes you think that Rafael would even agree to something like that? Are you insane?" I barrel forward in my argument without giving them any real opportunity to answer that. "And, second of all, how could you ever think I would do such a thing? Give me a break!"

"It wasn't a judgment, Jane," Mom rushes to reassure me, "But people tend to make bad decisions when they're panicking."

"I'm not panicking. I've been a single mother before. Remember?"

"But Michael-,"

"Michael is trying to move on with his life. I refuse to tie him down with a kid he doesn't want."

Dad regards me with a sympathetic look. "How do you know he doesn't want it if you have not asked him?"

"Cuando te ve con un bebé, ¿no crees que va a hacer preguntas?" Abuela asks.

"That's not going to happen," I reply glumly, "because I'm never going to see him again."

I expect some commiseration and comfort following that wrenching declaration but what I get instead is laughter. Chortles of laughter. Yelping, gasping laughter and I am not amused. I don't know whether to be offended by their careless disregard of my feelings or angry that they would dare to trivialize them. I swing towards the latter of the two.

"And what exactly is so funny about Michael casting me out of his life forever?" I demand tartly.

"Porque él no te echó de su vida," Abuela replies complete with air quotes, "Esto es simplemente el capítulo 100 en esta novela en curso."

I squint at her incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"You two are going to get back together," Mom replies with a dismissive wave, "I knew that as soon as you told me what happened to him these last five years. You'll find your way back to each other. You always do."

"But it will happen faster if you tell him about the baby," Dad interjects unhelpfully, "So you should do that. Soon. Like right now." He holds his phone aloft, prepared to dial Michael as soon as I give him the go ahead…which I am not going to do.

Instead, I throw up my hands with an exasperated grunt. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said?" I emphasize in my most strident tone, "It is really over this time. Michael is done. Dad, you know this already! You were the one who told me what he said in the first place!"

"And I also must reiterate that I did not believe him," Dad counters, "I still do not believe him."

"Well, I talked to him myself and I believe him. He means it."

Dad crosses his arms in stubborn denial. "I am not convinced. I suspect he's merely being petulant at this time. He will come around."

"Aren't you the one who warned me to stay away, who told me that he needed space?" I remind him shrilly, "You didn't even want me to see him so what's with the sudden about face?"

"That doesn't matter now that there is a baby," he reasons, "You should be with him. It's what you want. It's what he wants. The solution is simple."

"Dad, 'the solution' is not simple," I retort in an unflattering impression of him, "How many times do I have to say it? Michael hates me now."

Mom chooses that moment to insert her two cents. "Isn't hate the flip side of love?" she asks as if that concept is somehow helpful to our current discussion.

I stare at her in flummoxed silence. "No, Mom. Apathy is the flip side of love. Hate is just hate."

Abuela tries to reassure me then. "No creo que él te odie, mi amor."

"Well, he sure acted like he did the other night…"

I really don't want to rehash it anymore. We've been having the same, circular argument for the past twenty minutes and I still haven't found a solution I feel I can live with. All I really want to do right now is hide. Or, better yet, I'd like to sit in my room for the remainder of the night and stew in my own misery, maybe even listen to one of Michael's old playlists while sobbing into my pillow but, I can't. Rafael is due to arrive with Mateo at any moment. I need to prepare myself mentally for the inevitable conversation that I must have with him. Now that my family is aware of my pregnancy, he is the next person I need to tell and I need to figure out what I'm going to say.

Reluctant to do it but resolved at the same time, I scoot from the chair and stand upright. "Well, that's it for now, you guys. I just wanted to give you a heads up about what's going on with me before Rafael arrived."

"Are you going to tell him about the baby?" Mom asks when I start to head off towards the bathroom for a shower.

"I have to. He's going to find out eventually and I'd rather he hear the news directly from me."

Dad grimaces at me in disappointment and disgust. "You're going to tell Rafael about the baby but you won't tell Michael?" he demands in an affronted gasp, "But that's not fair, Jane!"

"Dad, we've already discussed this."

"He is the father! He deserves to know!"

"I know that, Dad!" I flare suddenly, "I know that! I just need a minute to breathe, okay! I need to figure out what I'm going to do next! Can you get off my back about it?"

The instant the words come flying out of my mouth, I wish devoutly that I could yank them back. I watch in sorrowful regret as Dad gradually closes himself off from me and his expression becomes distant and remote. "You're not going to tell him, are you?" he determines in a disillusioned tone, "I really expected better of you, Jane."

I'm not sure if his anger and disappointment sparked due to his loyalty to Michael or if he's relating my situation to his and my mother's. I suspect it is a combination of the two when he says, "I lost 23 years with you, my firstborn child. I never had the opportunity to watch you grow and change into the woman you've become. I did not have the chance to mold you in my image. You were robbed of that unmatched privilege, as was I.

"And though I have forgiven Xiomara for her choice, those scars remain and they are deep. The pain lingers because I am always aware of everything I have missed. Please, do not do that same terrible thing to Michael."

I'm reluctant to reject his earnest plea because I know it comes from a place of sincere, loyal love for Michael and for me but, in the end, that is exactly what I do. "I have to do what I think is right, Dad."

It breaks my heart to see his hopeful optimism fade from his eyes. "Then I suppose you've learned nothing from your mother's mistakes."

I call after him helplessly when he walks out of the house but he doesn't acknowledge my pleas for him to stay. I look back to my mother in a feeble bid for support. It's ironic that she should be the rock of our family right now when she is the one fighting for her life but I honestly think I would drown in my own sorrow were it not for her. "Mom, please talk to him," I entreat thickly, "I don't want him to hate me too. I can't deal with that on top of everything else."

"I'll fix it," she assures me as she starts after my father, "Don't worry."

Once she is gone, I glance over at Abuela who has been, heretofore, silent. She regards me with an impassive expression so I can't tell what she's thinking and that unnerves me because I'm pretty sure I won't like what's going on in her head. Rather than waiting for her to address it, I decide to take the offensive for a change. "You think I'm making a mistake too, don't you?"

"Creo que deberías hacer lo mejor para ti."

"I don't even know what that is, Abuela!"

"¿Qué deseas?"

"What I've always wanted…Michael! I want Michael. I love him."

"Entonces no se comprometa cuando se trata de sus sentimientos hacia él," she tells me firmly, "y toma lo que viene después! Nunca te rindas en lo que te hace feliz!"

"But it's so hard and it hurts so much," I weep, "He doesn't even want to see me and we made a baby together. What if he never forgives me, Abuela? I thought it was hard when he was gone but this feels worse!"

"¡Y qué!" she snaps harshly, so harshly that I snap to attention, my tears momentarily forgotten. "Eres como tu madre. Al primer signo de dificultad, te retiras. Bueno, ¡no más! Si amas a Michael, entonces ámalo, Jane, y toma lo malo con lo bueno."

I am still mulling over Abuela's wise words that loving Michael means accepting the bad with the good when Rafael arrives with Mateo. My son zips past me into the house with little more than a cursory hello before making a beeline for the back of the house. He's already out of sight before I can even greet him. I turn to Rafael for an explanation.

"He really has to pee," he says wryly, "I tried to talk him into stopping earlier but he was adamant that he could hold it. That's your son." I chuckle in response as he steps past me and into the house. "Hey, what's going on with your dad?" he asks after I shut the door.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he and Xo are sitting outside on the porch swing talking but when I was coming up the walk, I said 'hi' to him and he completely ignored me. It was strange."

I hope my face doesn't give away how uneasy I feel right then. "Well, you know my dad," I evade with a forced laugh, "He's always a little strange."

My hope that will be the end of it is futile because Rafael doesn't let it go. In fact, he ponders the incident even more. "It felt like more than that. Is he angry with me about something? Honestly, he's been acting 'off' towards me for a while now."

"Has he?" I ask with deceptive nonchalance.

"Do you think he's pissed at me about the restraining order against Michael?" Rafael wonders aloud, "I wouldn't be surprised. He has such a misplaced loyalty towards the guy. I don't understand it."

Not wanting to get into an in depth discussion on the many reasons my father maintains unswerving loyalty for my ex-husband, I decide to simply tell the truth. "It's not you, Raf. Dad isn't angry with you. I'm the one on his list."

"Why? What did you do? Send the wrong emoji text?" When I don't smile at his gentle teasing, he sobers immediately and asks, "Jane, what's wrong? Are you okay? You look tired."

"I am tired. It's been a long few months."

"Yeah, I know. But we've finally turned a corner, I think." Once again, my expression must reflect the dejected pessimism I feel inwardly because he says, "But obviously you don't."

I spend several seconds in an unproductive search for a response to that before I finally invite him to sit down. "I have something important to discuss with you."

He does as I request but his face becomes taut with alarm. "Is something wrong?" he presses me anxiously, "Should I get Mateo?" I know that he's concerned that our son might overhear something too sensitive for his ears and I'm quick to reassure him.

"Don't worry. Abuela will keep him occupied."

"So Alba knows what you want to talk to me about?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he replies slowly before leaning forward to give me his full attention, "I'm listening. Tell me what's going on."

I almost don't want to. Rafael and I have been getting along relatively well in the past week. That could be because neither of us has mentioned Michael once in all that time. It couldn't have become more obvious what a sore spot of contention Michael had been for us until he had been removed from the equation. We've shared the easy comradery that marked the days of our early friendship, the one that really blossomed and developed after he was released from prison. That's practically a streak for us these days. I hate to be the one to break it but, unlike Rafael, I can't pretend Michael doesn't exist.

"Raf, I want you to drop the assault charges against Michael!" I blurt out before I completely lose my nerve.

Rafael blinks at me as if I've just spoken to him in some incomprehensible language. "You want me to what?"

"He's been through enough," I maintain firmly despite the trembling in my knees, "Don't make it worse for him, please. Drop the charges."

"You're joking. Why would I drop the charges, Jane? He's guilty! Did you forget that we have a restraining order against him? And for good reason too!"

"He's not dangerous, Raf. And while we're on the subject of that restraining order, I want to get rid of that too. It's unnecessary."

"What are you talking about?" he hisses in mounting disbelief, "You don't think he's dangerous? Then why did I spend two days in the hospital after what he did to me, Jane?"

"That wasn't Michael! It was Rose," I retort without thinking, "You were right all along. She did mess around with his head. She wanted him to go after you. That was her whole plan."

The anger glittering in his eyes is abruptly replaced with wary suspicion. "How do you know that?"

Rather than answering him, I continue to justify the request I've made of him. "Michael is in therapy and he's working through his issues so you don't need a restraining order."

Rafael has little patience for my efforts to validate Michael. "How do you know that, Jane?"

"I went to see him last week."

The resounding silence that follows is excruciating. Figuratively, I feel as if I'm perched on a precipice just waiting for him to explode and send me sailing over the edge. But he doesn't react right away. His anger gathers quietly in a slow, tenuous build. Endless seconds tick by and he doesn't utter a single word. I can't help but a panic a little and the dread I feel actually leaves me nauseated.

Finally, when I think I'm about to go crazy waiting for him to respond, he asks, "So what did Michael say? I'm assuming he can remember the details of what happened to him now."

"He does," I confirm softly, "He remembers everything, Raf."

I watch as he struggles to absorb that news and all the implications that come with it. "Well…tell me what he said."

"He confirmed everything we already suspected," I recount, "Rose kidnapped him and faked his death. She held him prisoner for almost five years and she did it to get back at you and him. The plan was to hold him captive until you and I reconciled."

"Why?"

"She wanted us to be happy…and then she wanted to ruin it."

"I knew it! I knew this was a setup from the start! She released Michael right when she knew it would cause the most damage to our relationship," Rafael concludes quietly, "It was deliberate. Don't you see what she's done, Jane? This is exactly what she wanted! She wanted to drive us apart! She wanted to destroy our family! That's why she did this!"

"I know."

"She tried to tear down everything we built together and we let her do it." He suddenly moves from the couch and approaches swiftly to sweep my hands up with his in a fevered grip. He presses several fervent kisses across my fingers and knuckles. "Now that we know that was her plan, we can do everything in our power to make sure she doesn't succeed.

"I still love you, Jane. I still want to marry you. Please. Don't let Rose succeed in coming between us. Let's be together just like we planned."

The reserved uncertainty I feel must be evident in my expression long before I tentatively tug my hands from his grasp, because he falls back a step and the hope that brightened his eyes begins to dim as he recognizes the reason for my recalcitrance. "But that's not what you want anymore, is it?"

I shake my head regretfully and apologize to him but I can't say any more than that. I'm unable to give voice to the reasons that my feelings for him won't change, will never change because I know saying them aloud will only twist the knife deeper into his heart. I don't want to hurt him anymore than I already have, especially when I know there is more hurting to come. But my attempt to spare him can only go so far, not when Rafael is determined to force the words out of me. Even if they hurt him.

"So that's it then. I guess this means you're choosing him after all," he mutters, his eyes gleaming with tears, "That's the real reason you want me to drop the charges against him, isn't it? You're going back to him, aren't you?"

"I want you to drop the charges because it's the right thing to do. Michael has been through hell these past five years and I don't want him to suffer anymore. Rose has taken enough from him, from all of us really. Let's stop fighting each other."

"I don't give a damn what Michael's been through, Jane! He tried to kill me! Have you forgotten that?"

"Do you care about what I've been through?" I counter hotly, "Because if you're doing this to hurt him, Raf, it's going to hurt me too! You'll break my heart! Is that what you want?"

"I don't appreciate your using my feelings for you to try and manipulate me."

I almost point out to him that he often does the same thing to me but I hold my tongue, mostly because I know that I'm the one asking for favors right now and that requires a bit of humility on my part. "I'm not trying to manipulate you," I reply mildly, "I'm trying to appeal to your sense of compassion."

"Are you sure you're not doing this because you want to make it easier for yourself to ride off into the sunset with Michael?"

"That's not why I'm asking. This isn't about wanting to be with Michael. He wants to move on. I want him to have a clean slate. That's all. He deserves that much, don't you think?"

"What about what I deserve, hmm? Why do I have to be the one making noble sacrifices?"

"I can't force you to drop the charges, Raf," I tell him, "But I'm asking you to do it, as my friend."

"That's not fair. After everything Michael has taken from me, that's not a fair expectation at all, Jane."

"Maybe it's not. But is sending him to jail really going to give you any satisfaction, especially when you know that Rose is the reason he attacked you like that?"

"I don't know that for sure," he argues, "What I do know is that Michael has had it in for me from day one and he would have likely come after me even without Rose's influence."

I scowl at him in mounting frustration. "Raf, you know that's not true! I've been telling you this whole time that there was something off with him that day. Now you know for sure. If you still press charges after that, you're being petty and spiteful because you want to punish him and me."

"I should have known you'd be back on his side the second his memory came back," Rafael mutters bitterly, "This is what I've been dreading the entire time!"

"What about all the times I've been on your side?" I retort, "What about the allowances I've made for you, Raf? My father was right about you! You were the one who started the fight that day. What would you have done if Michael hadn't gotten the upper hand? Maybe you should take a little responsibility!"

He looks at me as if I am a stranger and he has no desire to know me at all. "Who are you? I don't even recognize you anymore!"

"I'm the mother of your son and the woman you claim to love," I tell him, "I'm done apologizing to you for having a life and a love before you. Michael was my world. You knew that before you fell in love with me and I've never kept it a secret!"

"That doesn't mean I liked being second to him!"

"You weren't second to me!" I cry, "You were different. You were what I needed when I was going through one of the worst times in my life! I don't know where I would be without you. I'll never forget what we shared. Despite everything, you're still my best friend."

"But it's not enough for you to stay with me, is it? Because after you're done making your pretty speech, the end result is the same. We're over and Rose wins."

"What do you want me to say, Raf?"

"I want you to tell me why this is happening! I don't understand it. We were in love. We were going to be a family, you, me and Mateo. I can't understand how all of that changed for you so fast…"

"I know this isn't what you want to hear," I murmur sympathetically, "I can give you all the time you need to adjust."

"All the time in the world won't make me adjust to seeing you with him!" he hisses, "And if you think I'm going to let him be around my son after what he did…"

"Raf, don't go there! Please!"

"You have to choose, Jane! Who's more important to you? Mateo or Michael? Because you can't have them both!"

"No! Don't say that to me! I can't choose! I won't!"

"Really? You're actually torn about this right now? The answer is Mateo, Jane. You should choose Mateo! He's your child, for God's sake! How the hell do you not get that?"

"Because he's not the only child I have to think about now!"

I don't plan to announce my pregnancy this way, with no planning or forethought but in a simple expulsion of emotion. Yet, when I do, I don't regret it. I make no attempt to call back the words. I own my decision and prepare myself for the fallout. I'm determined to do exactly as my grandmother advised me. I'm ready to take the bad with the good. And so, after taking a deep breath and stiffening my spine, I tell him the truth.

"Raf…I'm pregnant."