A/N: One more chapter and the epilogue after this. Thanks for sticking with me, peeps.

Chapter Thirty-Five (Michael POV)

My mom barges past me into the apartment practically bristling with rage as soon as I open the door. She doesn't even spare me a greeting. I already know why she's angry and that's long before she whips around on me and begins brandishing the small envelope beneath my nose. I recognize Jane's neat penmanship on the face of it quite easily.

"Would you mind explaining to me what this is?"

"A wedding invitation," I answer her slowly, because that should have very well been obvious if she had read the card. And I know that she read the card. She wouldn't have driven all the way from Fort Myer in morning rush hour traffic if she hadn't.

"I know it's a wedding invitation, Michael!" she snaps, "When did this happen? You told me that you and Jane were expecting a baby, not that you were planning to marry her again, much less planning to marry her tomorrow!"

"Why are you acting so shocked?"

"Maybe because I am!" she snaps back irritably.

"Well, Mom…when two people love each other they tend to want to spend their lives together. Jane and I are no different."

Not much time has passed since I proposed to Jane, less than two weeks actually but neither of us saw any reason to delay in getting married. We both agreed that a small, civil ceremony surrounded by those nearest and dearest to us would be enough, especially because we've already done the big, formal wedding in the past. Besides, to us, we are merely reinforcing the vows we've already made to each other, not making new ones.

Alba has already generously offered her living room for the intimate ceremony. And Jane, my beautiful, amazing, shrewd fiancée, is still surprising me. Apparently, she has the legal authority to perform marriage ceremonies now and she will be the one officiating ours even while she's participating in it as well. When Jane first made the suggestion to me, I was concerned that such a thing might not be legally binding but she assured me that as long as she had all the proper paperwork (and she did because this is Jane after all) everything would be fine.

With the venue and officiant taken care of and Xo volunteering to provide the refreshments for the guests, there really hadn't been any reason for us to wait. Jane and I promptly mailed out informal invitations to those whom we wanted to attend. The list was an incredibly small one. My father, her parents and grandmother, Rafael and his girlfriend, Petra and her girlfriend plus the twins. Jane had also invited Lina but, as of yet, we didn't expect she would be able to make it on such short notice. And of course Mateo being there went without saying.

Given the circumstances and how much Jane and I had endured to be together again, you'd think my mother could finally get onboard. Even my dad had eventually started to come around when he learned about Jane's pregnancy but my mom dug in her heels. From her point of view, Jane "abandoned" me in my greatest time of need after I learned of Lorena's betrayal and was reeling emotionally. She thinks that Jane is unreliable and unworthy of my love.

I'm not oblivious to where she's coming from. After all, she had witnessed firsthand the deep depression into which I'd sunk after Jane cut me off…but she wrongly blamed Jane for every bit of it. It was true that I had been devastated by Jane's rejection but I had also been dealing with the return of painful memories related to my captivity, Lorena's betrayal and the realization that I was capable of some rather brutal violence.

My entire life had spun out of control and I was a wreck but for more reasons than simple heartbreak. Still, it was easier for Mom to lay the sole blame at Jane's feet than to admit that I wouldn't have been any good to Jane back then. Her animosity towards my future wife didn't even lighten when she learned about the impending birth of her grandchild. If anything, she became even more adamant. Her strong feelings are exactly the reason her invitation had gone out late.

I watch as she angrily prowls the living room carpet and I don't know if that's because she's trying to give herself a minute to calm down or if she's about to go on a full-fledged rant. When she gradually becomes aware of the stack of moving boxes in both my living and dining rooms, however, I can tell that it is definitely going to be the latter. She pins me with a surprised glower.

"You're moving already?" she gasps in an almost disbelieving tone, "But I thought your lease wasn't up for another six months."

"It's not. I'm breaking it and paying the penalty. I told you this already. Jane and I found a house for rent about fifteen minutes away from my job. Do you not remember us having this conversation?"

"Can you blame me for feeling a little disoriented? This is all moving so fast!"

"Mom, I've been in love with Jane for almost a quarter of my entire lifetime. I married her once before. We're having a baby now. How any of this is surprising to you is beyond me."

"Don't you patronize me, Michael Donovan Cordero, Jr.," she warns me with a narrowed glare, "I am still your mother."

"I know that!" I retort, "That's the only reason I'm not kicking you out right now!"

She jerks to attention, as if surprised that I've taken such a hard line with her. Truthfully, I'm a little surprised by it too. When Jane first suggested sending my mother an invitation to our wedding, I had initially dismissed the idea. I already knew how she felt about Jane and about my relationship with her and I didn't want to deal with the dramatics that were sure to come when she learned Jane and I were getting remarried. But now I don't have much of a choice, so I decide to simply lay it out for her.

"This is what's going to happen, Mom," I begin evenly, "Tomorrow, I am going to marry Jane. Find a way to accept that or not but I want you to keep something in mind. If you don't accept it, you're not only alienating Jane but me as well…and your granddaughter. Is that what you want?"

Mom blinks at me in flustered shock. "That's emotional blackmail, Michael."

"No. It's a statement of facts. What kind of relationship do you imagine you'll have with your grandchild if you're hating on her mother?"

"My feelings are valid, Michael."

"I'm not saying they aren't," I acknowledge softly, "I'm asking you to let them go. If not for my sake then for my daughter's."

"It's not right. Jane doesn't deserve you."

I throw back my head with a heavy groan. "What does that even mean?" I cry out in frustration, "What makes her undeserving? Am I such a catch? I'm an emotionally fragile government official who suffers from PTSD and is in debt up to my neck. She's not exactly getting a prize with me, Mom."

"You know what I mean," she mutters stubbornly, "Jane doesn't love you the way that you love her."

"I think she loves me just fine. I don't feel deprived."

"Michael!"

"Mom! She's it for me. Whether you think she's good enough or not, she is it. I don't want to be with anybody else and I never will."

She slumps forward in defeat, her breath escaping her in a weary grunt. "So, you're really going to marry her?"

"I'm really going to marry her."

"Well, then…" she begins with a deep sigh and I'm fully expecting her to make some speech about being unable to accept my choice. I steel myself against the pain and disappointment that I know is coming, waiting for her to issue an ultimatum or, even worse, walk out of my life for good. But she doesn't do any of that. Instead, she says, "…okay. I'll be there tomorrow."

I guess I don't realize just how much I was hoping for my mother's acceptance until I'm driving into work and that old, familiar knot of anxiety isn't sitting in the pit of my stomach while I do. It feels like I've cleared the last major hurdle on my way to happily ever after with Jane. There is nothing else to hold us back now. No potential would-be kidnappers or defiant children or jealous exes or disapproving parents. Tomorrow, I'm going to marry the woman of my dreams and then we're going away for a week long honeymoon in Puerto Rico…and this time no one is getting shot.

My resulting good mood carries me throughout the majority of my morning. I'm so laidback that even the criminals that we arrest that day remark on it. But, try as I might, I cannot blast the cheesy grin off my face because I'm so damned happy. For the first time in a very long time, I am absolutely happy and secure in my future. I have everything I want and, surprisingly, I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sisquo and I are in the field, on our way to question a suspect in a robbery ring, when my cell phone vibrates and Jane's face pops up on the viewscreen. I check the automatic impulse to answer it immediately and slide an apologetic glance over at my partner. He grunts an accommodating laugh.

"Make it quick, Cordero. You're on the clock."

"Hey, babe," I say when I answer the call, "What's up?"

"I know you're probably in the middle of something…"

I dart a furtive glance over at Sisquo. His eyes are on the road ahead of us but I have no doubt that he's listening to every word I say. "Yeah…" I reply, "Sort of. But you sound frazzled. What's going on?"

"Your mom just called me and asked if I would like to go to lunch with her!"

The news brings me instant elation because it's far more than I dreamed to hope for following my early morning conversation with my mother. "That's great! I'm glad you two are starting to get along again."

"This afternoon, Michael," Jane stresses, sounding panicked, "She wants to go out to lunch this afternoon as in the next ten minutes."

"Oh."

"It's too soon. I can't have lunch with her today! I'm not prepared."

"You're having lunch together not planning for a duel at dawn. Relax. You'll be fine," I reassure her, "Besides, I spoke to my mom this morning and I told her that, if she wanted to have a relationship with her grandchild, she'd have to find a way to get along with you."

"So you blackmailed her into spending time with me?"

"What? No! Why does everyone keep calling it that?"

"Because that's what it is," Jane argues stridently, "I don't want your mom offering me friendship because she feels like she has a gun to her head…metaphorically speaking, of course. I don't want to be something she has to endure while gritting her teeth!"

"That's not what she's doing."

"Right," Jane sings back in obvious skepticism.

"Does it really matter why she's reaching out to you?" I ask softly, "The point is, whatever her motivation, she's trying. Can't you try a little too?"

We can't really discuss the subject much longer because Ryan and I have finally reached our suspect's home so I have to tell her goodbye. Other than a few cryptic texts that mostly consist of expressive emojis, I don't hear from Jane again until late that evening, long after I've stripped off my clothes, showered and climbed into bed for the night. I'm actually reaching for my phone to text her when it rings.

"You're calling me so that means you're not dead," I say in lieu of greeting, "I suppose that means that lunch with my mom went well."

"Yes, surprisingly. It wasn't nearly the disaster I was expecting. She actually left less than an hour ago."

"You spent the day together?"

"We spent the day together and it was actually sort of pleasant."

I'm not at all shocked by the admission because underneath all of the emotional bullshit my mother and Jane have always really liked one another. But I wisely refrain from telling her I told you so. Instead, I snuggle deeper into the bed covers and ask, "So how did it go?"

"She wanted to make sure I wasn't still hung up on Rafael."

In my mind's eye I can imagine Mom asking that question and the blunt, brusque way she likely went about it. I groan aloud. "Please tell me that she, at least, led into that discussion gently."

"Nope. It was pretty much the first thing she said to me when I approached the table for lunch."

"Great."

"It's really okay, Michael," she's quick to soothe me, "I totally understand why she asked. I have a child with Rafael. We've had an on again off again relationship that's sort of hung around in the background for more than half a decade. And, most importantly, he's the reason we broke up all those years ago."

"He's not the reason," I dispute grimly, "I was the reason…because I wasn't honest with you and I let my insecurity and jealousy cloud my judgment. I let it twist me into something I wasn't. Our breakup is on me, not him."

"Well maybe not on Rafael but not just on you either. I wasn't being honest with you," she whispers, "I should have told you that I had feelings for him back then."

"It wouldn't have made a difference. I would have hurt either way."

"I'll always regret my decision to break our engagement back then, Michael. In hindsight, I realize that I should have stuck it out, tried to work it out with you. I was too quick to throw away everything we had together and that was stupid. I was stupid."

"We don't have to talk about it, Jane," I tell her gruffly. That emotional wound, while mostly healed, still remains a tender, sensitive subject for me. I don't like to think about it. I certainly don't want to talk about it but Jane evidently doesn't feel the same.

"But I want to talk about it," she insists softly, "Because sometimes I feel like that day on the docks when I gave you back your ring is still between us and I don't want it to be. It shouldn't be because it's the past and it has no bearing on what happened between Rafael and I after I thought you died. None of that matters now. We can finally put it behind us for good."

Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm voicing my most deep seated insecurity aloud. "Is it really behind us though, Jane?"

I can't deny that her relationship with Rafael continues to nag at me a little. It's not the all-consuming jealousy that it had once been but I do still struggle with a tiny bit of insecurity. Even with all the progress we've made, even with the absolute knowledge that her heart is mine, there is a tiny sliver of doubt that remains. I can't forget that she ended our relationship once just to be with him. And I can't forget that, when I was presumed dead, she gravitated right back into his arms again.

Even now, in spite of their breakup and the lingering tension between them, the bond that they share is enduring. Rafael knows Jane down to her soul, in some ways even better than I do and that knowledge is unsettling to me. Jane cherishes Rafael's friendship dearly. And, if her affection for him had bled over into romantic feelings, not once but twice before, who is to say that it can't happen again?

What happens if I screw up in some way or disappoint her? What if periodically our marriage grows stagnant or we experience a rough patch? Will she suddenly start looking at Rafael with heart eyes again? Wouldn't I be naïve to think that, under the right circumstances, their friendship couldn't or wouldn't bloom into something more? Once again, I'm uttering my uncertainty out loud before I even take a moment to filter what I'm going to say.

"Michael?" And I can tell my the trembling way she whispers my name that my confessed misgivings hurt her. "Is that really what you think?"

"Most of the time, it's not," I reply honestly, "Usually it's not even a thought in my head but there are rare occasions when I do wonder and I get scared. I'd rather walk away from you now than to ever go through that again, Jane."

"Oh, Michael…" she breathes tearfully, "You don't have to be scared. This is as much a lifetime commitment to me as it is to you."

"I'm not saying that it's not. But I think my concerns are valid," I argue, "It's not like you have to worry about me turning to another woman, with whom I have tons of romantic history and also share a child. Sometimes, the bond you share with Rafael is intimidating."

"So is the bond we share," she counters, "And it was there long before we made a baby, even before we fell in love. It was there from the moment we met, when I opened my front door and saw you standing there. I knew you were going to change my life. And you did."

"I felt the same way about you. In that moment, I knew you were it. I just knew."

"Then you know that you have nothing to worry about," she replies, finality in her tone, "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told your mom this afternoon and I want you to hear me because I don't want to be having this same discussion for the next fifty years, okay."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"I would not be marrying you tomorrow if I didn't know absolutely without question that you are the man I want. And you are. You always have been. I am marrying you tomorrow, Michael Cordero, so you'd better be ready to spend forever with me."

The rigidity seeps from my body with her reassurance and prompts my wry smile. "I'm ready."

"Good. So, can we please set aside all this talk about the past and concentrate on what really matters? Our wedding, for instance."

"Right," I say, acknowledging the mild censure in her tone with a smile and dutifully changing the subject as requested. "I have the rings and my suit and our plane tickets. The resort is booked and our arrival time is two days from now. Check in is after 3:00 p.m. So, everything on my end is taken care of. Do you want me to drop by the house early tomorrow and help set up?"

"No! You are well aware that the groom cannot see the bride before the wedding!" she scolds me, "Are you trying to bring us bad juju?"

"But does it really count if we've been married before?"

"It counts. Abuela, Mom and Dad will set up for tomorrow. You will stay away until I give you the go ahead. Is that understood?"

"Aye, aye Captain!"

She clicks her tongue in satisfaction. "Now then, I have all of the necessary paperwork and we can sign all of the documents tomorrow after the service."

"How exactly is you marrying us going to work if you're also part of the ceremony?"

"Don't worry. I've got a plan. I may occasionally need to address myself and you in the third person but I've got it covered."

"Yeah, because that's not weird at all," I mumble, "Are you sure we can't hire someone outside?"

"I'm sorry. Do you doubt my abilities? It's not like I'm inexperienced. I will have you know that I have already married one couple."

"Performing your grandmother's green card wedding does not count, babe."

"Trust me. I have a plan," she stresses yet again, "I'll give a speech at the beginning, we'll say our vows in the middle and I'll pronounce us at the end. Easy peasy."

"And then we'll be married," I conclude with a soft, sentimental sigh.

"And then we'll be married," she echoes with equal sentimentality, "Just think, this time tomorrow we'll be saying goodnight to each other as husband and wife."

My smile stretches so wide that my cheeks actually ache. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I."

We stay on the phone until the early morning, neither of us wanting or willing to say goodnight. For hours we talk about everything and nothing, we banter about potential names for our unborn daughter, speculate on how tall Mateo will be, discuss the mundane details of our future household budget and childishly attempt to outdo one another in a burping contest. Eventually though, drowsiness and the awareness that we must be up again in the next few hours compels us to reluctantly end the call. I close my eyes immediately after hanging up, my last thought before drifting off being that I will never have to sleep without her next to me again. Tomorrow marks the first day of the rest of our lives together.

The next morning I wake up feeling surprisingly well rested despite having gotten less than four hours of sleep. Even the overcast day can't spoil my mood with its gray gloominess because I am marrying to love of my life today. It could thunder and hail on my head right now and all I would see are clear, blue skies.

Whistling a jaunty tune to myself, I carefully lay out my suit, dress shirt and tie and then head off for a shower. I don't usually take a lot of time getting dressed but today I'm fairly unhurried about it because I want to look my absolute best. An hour later I am dressed, groomed and in the process of knotting my tie when I receive an incoming text message from Jane. I smile to myself as I read it.

You on your way now?

I chuckle over her obvious impatience. I thought I was supposed to wait for your marching orders, General.

You have them. Now get here ASAP.

The ceremony isn't supposed to start for another four hours. Her response to that is a series of question marks, as if to say, "And that's relevant to this discussion how?" I laugh again and peck out another response. I've got to stop for a haircut and then I'm heading your way.

Don't cut too much! I'm starting to dig that floppy look you've got going.

Will do, soon-to-be-wife. There is a significant pause after I send that message and I'm certain it's because she's crying. Her next reply confirms it.

I love you so much, soon-to-be-husband.

Love you too. I'll see you soon.

I drop into the barbershop a few blocks from my apartment because I'm sure I can get in and out due to the early hour and fewer customers. My assumption is correct. There is only one other customer besides me in the shop and I almost snort out loud at the irony when I notice who it is. Rafael. I stop in my tracks when I see him in the barber's chair, already halfway through his own haircut.

Rafael rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Don't tell me we have the same barber too."

"You can relax. I'm a walk in."

An awkward silence pervades the space between us after that. While our interactions have gotten much better since Jane's medical scare with the baby, Rafael and I are still a very long way from being totally at ease in each other's company. But it's not so much that Jane is between us now so much as it is our own volatile history with each other. He has plenty of reasons to resent me and I have just as many reasons to resent him. It's been difficult moving past all of that old bitterness but we have been trying…and not because we have to either. We've been trying because we want to.

"You're still going to be there this afternoon, right?" I ask him, finally breaking the silence. He's dressed in a suit and tie but I don't want to presume.

"Of course. It can only get easier watching you marry Jane a second time, I'm sure."

"You'll manage," I reply, unwilling to indulge him in his "poor me" routine, "You've got your hot, new girlfriend to help ease the pain."

"That is true." A faint smile softens his otherwise somber expression. "Did I ever thank you for setting us up, by the way?"

"Yeah, not exactly how it went down but go with that, Solano."

It had been nothing near a set up. He had dropped by the station one night to confirm the schedule for Mateo's upcoming karate tournament and my partner's youngest daughter also happened to drop in at the same time. She and Rafael were instantly taken with one another as insanely pretty people usually are and then proceeded to flirt with each other shamelessly for fifteen, mind-numbing minutes less than five feet from my desk. I was forced to hear every double entendre, every breathy sigh, every girlish giggle. It was nauseating.

Still, despite the discomfort it had caused me, I was glad that Rafael was throwing himself back into the dating scene, if for no other reason than it would help to lessen Jane's guilt about leaving him. Perhaps it's not the most noble line of thinking but I never claimed to be a saint. Besides, I'm a practical guy. Rafael finding a girlfriend doesn't only need to benefit him. I'm good with reaping the byproducts as well.

"I'm assuming you're bringing her to the ceremony," I say.

"That's the plan."

"Good. I'm glad you two are getting along." I mean the words sincerely.

"She's great. Really great actually. Smart, ambitious, beautiful…and I'm not just saying all of this to save face either. I really like her."

"I'm not surprised to hear that. She is your type, after all."

"And you're suddenly an expert on the women I find attractive? What type would that be exactly?"

"The Petra type. Intelligent and stunning but dangerous. They're the ones you seem to gravitate towards."

He smirks at my answer. "Then how would you explain Jane?"

"She's dangerous too but in a different way. Dangerous for your heart but not so much for your head."

"Hmm… Maybe that's the reason I've had such a difficult time getting over what happened with me and her…and you."

"Maybe. I know that's why I had a hard time getting over it."

The entire time we've been talking, Rafael's barber has continued to work efficiently, never once acknowledging our conversation. However, I suddenly begin to wonder what he must be thinking to have two men deeply discussing the emotional facets of their love life in an exchange that has serious undercurrents of tension. His expression betrays nothing, however.

Suddenly self-conscious, I say a little too loudly, "I'm glad you have a girlfriend now, Rafael, because I am in love with Jane, who is also a girl."

Rafael blinks at me as if he thinks I've lost it, clearly unaware of the problematic nature of the subject matter being discussed. "Okay." He peers at me speculatively for a moment. "Are you sure my being with Kate isn't a problem for you?"

"Why would it be a problem? You're dating my partner's daughter. So what? Go right ahead with that. Who cares if it's a little awkward for me at times? Just stop making out at my desk because I can do without that."

"If I can resign myself to the fact that you're marrying my ex-fiancée and the mother of my child then I'm sure you can get used to me dating Kate," he counters mildly.

I refrain from pointing out to him that Jane is also the mother of my child because what's the point of getting into a pissing contest with him? I also bite back the urge to tell him how pretentious he sounds for a similar reason. "Kate? Since when did it become 'Kate' instead of 'Katie?'"

"Since that's what she prefers to be called and she's not seven years old anymore," Rafael retorts.

Properly chastened, I throw up my hands in genial surrender. "Okay. I get it. She's your girlfriend so you know her better. My bad for being a jackass."

"That's okay," Rafael replies, another self-satisfied smirk forming at the corners of his mouth, "I'm used to it. That is your natural state of being after all."

It seems that after managing to maintain his professional demeanor for most of Rafael's haircut, this last statement of Rafael's is finally enough to shake his composure and he snorts out a loud laugh. The instant he does, he immediately claps his hand over his mouth, as if incredulous that the sound had actually come from him. And then he slowly swings his eyes around to me, his expression a mixture of horror and barely contained amusement.

"I'm sorry, sir," he tells me, struggling to reign in his hilarity, "Someone should be over to assist you shortly."

"Can you make it quick?" Rafael asks, surprising me, "My friend is getting married today."

"Really?" I challenge after his barber leaves to call for someone to help me, "Is that what we are now?"

"I thought that was the plan," he reminds me.

"True. But I also figured that this day might not be so easy for you so…"

"…Maybe you wouldn't be my favorite person?"

"Right."

"Cordero, you're never going to be my favorite person," he says, "But, you make Jane happy. You make my kid happy. And that alone is enough to earn my respect."

"Thanks."

"I'm not saying we're going to have sleepovers and braid each other's hair-,"

"—I sure hope to hell not-,"

"—but I have every confidence that we can get along with each other," he finishes determinedly, "because we're family now, like it or not. You're in on the Saturday brunches so it's official. And family sticks together…no matter what."