The last thing Amanda expects to see when she is looking for a parking spot along the residential street Daryl and Lori live on is the canary yellow Mustang belonging to Rick Grimes. He knows Carol, obviously, because of Sophia, but single men don't generally attend baby showers to her knowledge. As luck would have it, the best spot to park is parallel in front of it, so she eases her Honda into the spot and sighs.
Embarrassment heats her cheeks. Calling Rick last night while under the influence of vodka was a silly college girl move, one she hadn't made even when she was in college. Instead of hanging up or telling her to fuck off and hanging up, like any sane person would have done, he somehow linked it to her having a bad week and made everything feel better. It didn't stop her from wanting to put in for a transfer to the most remote town in Alaska when she woke up this morning, though.
It'll be worse if she cancels on the baby shower, so she reaches for her gift bag and a grocery bag of chips and dip in the passenger seat and heads to the house. If she's lucky, she'll know someone other than Lori and Carol in here, although she hasn't really socialized with Carol's friends before. Her sister-in-law doesn't have any extended family, so Amanda's a little curious who might be attending.
The door is opened by Sophia, who grins widely and drags her inside and into an enthusiastic hug at the same time. "Oh thank God, someone under forty besides me and Beth!" she exclaims, but giggles to show she's teasing.
Beth being at the shower isn't something Amanda expects, and she wonders if she's missed something in the communication somewhere. Maybe it's because she works for Merle and indirectly for Carol. Carol does run the kitchen at the bar, normally, even though she owns her own bakery on the outskirts of Atlanta.
"Don't let Lori hear you say that, missy," Amanda teases absently. Lori's older than Daryl by a few years, but she hasn't hit forty, yet.
"Or Mama. She's not forty until February, you know." Sophia tows her toward the dining room, which has the table set up as a buffet. The teenager sorts the chips into the spot with the rest of the unopened bags and plunks the dip down near the others. "Gifts go in the living room. That's where the ladies are. Kids and men are hiding out back."
Part of Amanda thinks out back sounds better than the baby shower, but she needs to at least put in an appearance. When they get to the living room, Sophia snags the gift bag to add to the pile of similar items, leaving Amanda to brave the room of about fifteen women. She only recognizes three other than her niece: Carol, who looks like she could deliver the baby right here and now; Lori, who is setting up some sort of baby shower type game; and Beth, who is perched on the arm of an armchair where a woman sits who looks enough like her that it has to be Beth's mother.
That adds to the wrinkle that Beth's here because of Merle. Amanda hadn't realized Beth's mother knew Carol somehow. The blonde is actually the first to greet Amanda, waving cheerfully and calling her name, which draws everyone else's attention.
Lori smiles brightly. "Oh good. Just one more, and everyone's here." She introduces Amanda to the group, and her guess was right that the woman next to Beth is her mother, Annette. The rest of the women are a blur of names, although none from the bar, two are from Carol's bakery.
Sophia is obviously playing greeter, because she's disappeared when the doorbell rings by the time Amanda navigates the room to give Carol a hug. She angles for a folding chair at the outskirts of the gathering, hoping whatever games Lori has planned aren't too outrageous, although the little tray tables set up for every seat tell her something's planned. Surely she's too refined to do one of those godawful baby poop games that Amanda's seen on social media.
"Well, hello, Amanda." Hearing Michonne's voice is a little startling, so Amanda turns to see that the pretty lawyer is navigating by her to reach Carol and hug her with happy greetings. Turning, Amanda sees Shane and Andre, with the deputy in casual dress hefting a fairly large box that he sets down among the gifts and salutes the ladies. Andre copies the motion.
"Boys and the kiddos are out back, if y'all are staying instead of chauffeuring," Lori tells him, going to give the man a hug.
"Ruby is here, right?" Andre asks, looking excited. When Lori nods, the boy dashes off, leaving all the adults laughing. Shane just grins and follows, seeming happy to escape the fripperies of the baby shower.
"We might as well just start planning that wedding now," Carol tells Michonne. "Although Merle swears she's not dating until she's at least forty. Thinks he'll be too old to notice by then."
"He woke me up at five a.m. asking if today was the party day," Michonne admits, before taking the seat next to Amanda. "We should probably set up some sort of regular play date. Maybe the kids can spend a weekend out at our place when the baby comes. Give you some one on one time with the baby."
Lori nods as she plunks bags of marshmallows, a baby bottle, a clean nasal aspirator, and a small, butt naked baby doll in front of each person. Amanda definitely isn't sure this game is going to be fun, but at least it isn't a poop game. "We're taking them while Carol's in the hospital. Maybe we trade off weekends after?"
The interaction is so casually done that Amanda feels almost overwhelmed. Growing up, it had been just her and Daryl and Mama McGinley for years, although the old woman had never turned Merle away when he drifted by to visit while they still lived with her. It's a bit of a lonely reminder, though, because for all their rough beginnings, both of her brothers are happily married and expanding their families. She also feels a little left out, because offering to babysit the kids hadn't even occurred to her. Maybe it's a mother thing, to think of that sort of offer.
Pushing the thought aside to figure out something more helpful than diapers, wipes, and a couple of cute onesies, Amanda sets out to survive these baby shower games for now. "Hey, Lori? What's the baby for?" she asks, eying it warily. Hers has bright green eyes.
Her sister-in-law grins. "You have to keep up with it all afternoon. If you put the baby down, someone else can claim it."
Amanda eyes the doll, which is too big for a pocket, and sighs as she tries to figure out how to hold it. Michonne nudges her. "Give it a ride along."
When Amanda glances over, the lawyer has perched the doll inside the neckline of her shirt, so that the brown eyed baby is peeking over the edge of her blouse. She winks at Amanda before eating a handful of the mini marshmallows that Lori is explaining are supposed to be picked up with the aspirator and dropped into the bottle. Figuring the other woman has a good idea, she sticks hers inside her shirt to perch on her bra.
By the time Amanda survives three shower games, sneaking away doesn't seem quite as impolite. Michonne's dastardly good at the babysitting game, because when Amanda claims she needs the bathroom and escapes, the lawyer has two more babies joining her first tiny passenger. Instead of the bathroom, she aims for the kitchen and eyes the backyard, wondering if Lori or Carol will really care if she heads outside instead.
The back door opens, with Shane slipping inside. He smiles at her, friendly as he's always been. "Tired of the games already?"
"I think baby shower games are more something that entertains after you've had a baby or two." She caught enough of the discussion to know that other than Beth and Sophia, she's the only unmarried one at the party, and the only married woman without kids is six months pregnant.
"You're probably right. Surely they aren't all as bad as that one," he says, waving a hand toward her t-shirt.
She'd completely forgotten the little doll, but laughs and pats it on the head. "I'm afraid if I fail the babysitting game, neither Carol nor Lori will let me near the babies when they arrive. Michonne's managed to snitch two extras by now."
Shane laughs, looking entirely amused. "Baby fever, I guess," he comments, but doesn't elaborate before Lori bustles into the kitchen.
The brunette smiles at them both, even as she opens the fridge to retrieve a bottle of ginger ale. Her baby doll is tucked through a belt loop, posed like it's a little naked Superman flying along. "The party punch gives Carol heartburn," she explains. "And Amanda? If you really prefer to sneak outside, you can. I'm surprised Beth hasn't made an escape."
Beth's been too busy giggling and playing photographer to care that Carol's snagged her little blue eyed baby up and added it to hers to have twins tucked in the crook of one elbow. Sophia staying makes sense, since Carol's her mother. Amanda shrugs, although the men look to be having more fun settled on the deck with beer and a deck of cards. She doesn't see Rick among them, so it hits her that the man must have loaned Beth his car. It's a weird feeling, thinking of the girl driving a vehicle even Carl isn't given the keys to.
"Pretty flowers, Lori," Shane remarks, eyeing the big flower arrangement on the kitchen island. "How far in the doghouse is Daryl to merit that?"
Lori shakes her head, pretending exasperation at Shane. It's odd now, seeing these two together for the first time, knowing Lori still has a comfortable friendship with her ex-husband's best friend. "They aren't from Daryl. When they arrived this morning, I thought maybe they were a gift for the shower, but then I read the card." She plucks it from the arrangement and passes it to Shane.
The deputy reads it, arching a brow and looking between the card and the flowers. The arrangement is brightly colored, some theme Amanda figures is probably supposed to be cheerful or sunset or something, with sunflowers, orange snapdragons, orange and hot pink roses, and another yellow filler flower she can't identify. "Having the ex-husband sending apology flowers four years after the divorce is a bit unique."
"Something must have given him a wakeup call, I guess," Lori says before turning to Amanda, who can barely keep her expression neutral at the words 'wakeup call'. "If you want clothes for the baby doll, there's a basket of them on the counter. You can keep it if you want. Any leftovers, I'll let Naomi have."
Amanda nods, and Lori disappears back in the direction of the living room. Shane is still holding that card, but while he didn't look at her with Lori in the room, he turns and studies her now, thumb rubbing the cardstock almost absently. "You know, one of the things Rick and Lori fought about from almost the second they got married was his tendency to refuse to talk and give someone the cold shoulder when he was upset. Funny how he's had a burr under his saddle all week about something, and now he's apologizing to Lori for being an uncommunicative asshole for thirteen years."
The urge to talk to someone about what's going on between her and Rick is damned overwhelming, and Amanda squirms under Shane's assessing gaze even as he tucks the card back into the flowers. "Something happened."
Shane snorts, giving her a lopsided smile. "Figured it must have, because Eugene grumbled about sharing an office with you two making Antarctica look warm. Need to run it by me?" When she nods, he jerks his head toward the door, and she follows, dropping the little naked doll into the basket with the tiny doll onesies. She's not carrying that outside, game or no game. The big deputy pauses by the cooler, snagging two bottles of Pepsi and waving off the call back to the card game. "Be back in ten minutes."
"Now, Shane, dammit, you can't go off talking about work at a party," Merle calls out. He's not playing cards, instead leaning against the deck rail and watching. His eyes narrow a bit, and so do Daryl's. At least that's confirmation that both her brothers are aware Shane's involved in the case, too.
"We'll be back," Amanda replies. "Shouldn't take even ten minutes."
No one fusses as they continue down the deck steps and go around to the gate to access the front yard. She follows Shane out to a modest SUV, where he pops the hatch and pats the spot beside him as he offers her a bottle of Pepsi. "Can't offer you alcohol for whatever this is, unless we both want an open container writeup drinking out here."
Amanda rolls her eyes, but uses the drink for the delay tactic it is, gaze on the damned yellow car parked behind hers. Beside her, Shane hasn't even opened his drink. She can't seem to find the words that say 'hey, I had my hand down my partner's pants - again'.
He doesn't wait for her to speak, in the end. "I went undercover a few times, not for my own department, but on loan to a few others. The last one…" The sigh comes from somewhere deep in his chest. "We were posing as a couple, and we got in over our heads with it."
Looking at him, she doesn't really need the confirmation that it involves sex, just like her and Rick. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath. "We had sex, the morning after we found out about Joan." Maybe it wasn't everyone's definition of sex, but honestly, she isn't admitting the exact details to someone she barely knows.
Shane hums softly, those dark eyes intent on her as he nods. "I had a feeling it might happen."
"What the hell do I do now?" she asks, remembering the night before, where she didn't have a single sex dream, despite talking to Rick for hours. The dreams were more unsettling, too domestic to be about a man she barely knows and has nothing in common with except their shared profession and a few family members.
"You've got two choices. Do your damndest to forget it ever happened or take a shot at making it something more than an accident during an intense case."
It makes her nearly choke on the drink she just took. Blinking at him incredulously, she clears her throat. "Take a shot? He's my partner. Is that what you did?" If he did, it didn't work out, because she doubts Michonne was an undercover partner. The woman is too distinctive and well known.
Shaking his head, something mournful crosses Shane's expression. "She was married. I didn't know it when we went undercover, because I've done a lot of questionable hookups in my time, but married isn't one of the lines I cross. I found out when we closed the case. When I got home, I applied for the K9 unit and took my promotion to sergeant, even though it meant splitting up my partnership with Rick." He looks away, voice rumbly soft as he speaks again. "They publicize K9 officers too much to send them undercover."
There's a sense of loss in his words that tells her Shane had fallen for his married partner, and Amanda feels for him. "Why would you tell me to take a shot?"
The sorrowful look clears away as Shane smiles. "Rick needs someone who can shake his world up a bit, who has her own life to live, too. Challenge him to do more than just tally time between work and Carl. I don't think I've ever seen him so intrigued with a woman, Amanda, and I was there when he and Lori met. You aren't partners in the way the department handbook looks at it, so there's no reason you can't."
Being encouraged to pursue whatever this is between her and Rick, by the man who is not only his best friend, but his actual boss, is a bit baffling for Amanda. Shane doesn't seem bothered at all by the fact that she's nothing like the girls Rick's been dating. There's nothing but sincerity in the man's expression.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," she manages, and Shane seems to accept it.
He stands, patting her on the shoulder. When she hops out of the improvised seat in the back hatch of the SUV, he closes the door and turns back to her. "Just think about it. If he was an ass to you this week, like I figure he was, no one can get under his skin like that if he isn't attached."
It makes her think about last night's call, even as she follows Shane back toward the house. Turning the quandary of her continued attraction to a man that seems an impossible match over and over in her head, she joins the poker game to outlast the baby shower. Last night, having someone to turn to when her week was beyond overwhelming? It was amazing. Can they keep that if they bring sex into the mix? She just doesn't see how. Five years ago, before Luke, maybe she would take the chance, but three years with someone who couldn't handle the realities of her career disillusioned her about taking chances when two people seem incompatible to start with.
Somehow, luck has it that she and Beth leave at the same time, and the perky blonde calls her name as they reach the cars. She's got the door to the Mustang open, resting her arms against it as she waits on Amanda to turn back to her. "I know something was wrong this week," she says. "Rick was so miserable it hurt to look at him, all week long."
"That's not my business," Amanda starts, but Beth waves a hand with more assertiveness than she's used to seeing out of the girl.
"Thing is, he had a really bad week, and not just because of whatever you two are fighting about. I heard him say your name last night, when he answered the phone, before he closed his door. You know what was different this morning?"
Amanda swallows, not sure if she should confirm she was the one calling at such a late hour. "What was different?"
"Rick was smiling. It was like it didn't matter that he'd had a horrible week anymore." Beth steps back, obviously getting ready to get into the driver's seat. "Funny how talking to you for two hours in the dark made him look ten years younger, huh?"
Before Amanda can even absorb that, Beth's inside the car and closing the door. The blonde waves as she pulls her car out into the street. Watching her drive away sets Amanda's mind to spinning again, but this time the term partner isn't accompanied by badges and police reports. It's imagining the impossible, waking up with Rick like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Looking at her phone, she reads Carl's latest Facebook post. Yesterday, Rick had been an afterthought in the amusement park posts, which she skims after what Beth said, looking for signs of stress she missed. He's smiling in all of them, but he also looks as tired as she felt yesterday.
Today?
Carl posted a single photo - of Rick, sitting at an ancient folding table with a tattered textbook in front of him, using a pencil's eraser to point to something on the page. He's dressed in an emerald green button up, sleeves rolled to bare strong forearms. Although she saw the contacts case in his bathroom, it's a little startling to see him in wire frame glasses. Obviously explaining something to someone out of frame, he looks relaxed and happy.
Carl's caption reveals that after yesterday's fun, they'd spent today doing something entirely different. 'When your dad's a cop, you're always told he's a hero. It's not just a badge that does that. Sometimes it's a textbook and helping a kid study to pass her GED tomorrow.'
Something about Rick's expression, it just makes her wish she could reach out and run her fingers through those curls. That's apparently the part of her trying to be in charge, because somehow her route home takes her by Rick's building. She even makes it into the garage, parking in that spot that seems almost hers by now.
Thinking of the scene she interrupted at Daryl's, she closes her eyes. Her once wary, half-feral brother had been standing behind Lori at the sink in their bright, pretty kitchen. Lori's not showing yet, but Daryl had one big hand cupped against her belly as he placed a gentle kiss at the base of Lori's jaw, telling her softly that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. And Lori's smile at those gravelly voiced words? It was something breathtaking.
For a few brief moments Saturday morning, before her anxiety and self-doubt chased it away, that's how she felt when Rick was looking at her, eyes bright and blue as he peppered kisses along her skin. It was like she was a treasure he couldn't believe he had. An apology for running out on him can be done by phone or text. Going upstairs? That's got implications of not just apologizing. Taking a deep breath, she reaches for the door. She gets it open and debates with herself, trying to push back the absolute certainty that if she goes upstairs tonight, nothing will ever be the same.
It's simple. Get out of the car, get into that elevator, and with Rick, she might not even need words to explain. So why does she feel more terrified than facing down a methhead with a gun?
And her phone rings.
It's Dawn Lerner, with a prim, barely sincere apology for interrupting her day off. One of the evening shift sergeants broke his ankle on a foot chase through a junked up alley, and as the low man on the totem pole, Amanda's getting overtime instead of taking that elevator upstairs. Maybe she can talk to Rick tomorrow, when she drops Carl off. In frustration, she slaps the steering wheel, groaning, and starts the car.
Rick hadn't shared as much about his week as Amanda did hers, because while work was easy enough, the personal was not. With Amanda's extreme discomfort with his family money, telling her about his mother's constant nitpicking about the disposition of the family trust didn't feel right. Honestly, he'd been so damned glad to hear her voice that her calling him an asshole actually made him smile.
Everything about Amanda is about as opposite as it can get from his austere and elegant mother, and if all she wants is a work partner, he'll settle for that. He's missed that sort of bitching about a hard week. Honestly, he's not sure if last night's would have been better over a beer or lying next to each other in bed.
Shane's never in the field anymore, and while he understands the job, it's not the same. Rick can't truly socialize with his detectives, and after Shane left King County, Rick never formed the same sort of friendship with any of the other deputies. None of them ever forgot who his mother was.
Evelyn Corbyn Grimes, the prissy, narcissistic princess whose family owned enough of the county and employed enough of the residents that everyone knew who Rick was, even if his last name was Grimes and not Corbyn. Not giving him the Corbyn surname was probably the only rebellion his parents ever did from his maternal grandfather's grand plan for the family.
In the end, it cost his mother far more than it did Rick himself. Dumping the majority of the family fortune into a trust whose lion's share goes to Rick had been his grandfather's pointed revenge against his only daughter and son-in-law for ending his cherished family name with him. Grandfather hadn't approved of Rick attending a state school, majoring in anything other than business, or the fact that he got Lori pregnant his senior year of college. But none of those things broke a promise between him and the querulous old man, so Rick is about to gain full control of a nightmarish amount of money.
His mother isn't broke, despite being left in the cold by the family trust. She still has a personal trust fund from her mother that gives her a yearly income that would take most patrol cops four years to accumulate. His father's retirement from his grandfather's company nearly doubles that. Her home in London makes the luxuries of his apartment look spartan, and it's one she inherited from her British born mother.
Being cut out of her own father's will is horrible, but now she's had sixteen years to let all that bitterness ferment since his grandfather died. Greed and resentment do ugly things to people, and as much as he loves her, his mother never had a lot of positive personality to spare. Most of it died out with his father, he suspects sometimes. She loves him and adores Carl, but the most important person in her world will always be Evelyn Grimes.
Normally, the time difference makes it hard for her to coordinate long calls, but she's at her cousin's vacation home in Tortola. Living in the lap of shared luxury has her more resentful than usual, as if she needs to own a home on an island she visits once every two or three years. The call before Amanda's last night had been her fifth call this week, all saccharinely sweet about missing her only son and grandson...while ending in subtle digs about what her life was supposed to be like now.
After that, being called an asshole just felt like honesty incarnate.
He hadn't intended to go by the shelter today, wanting to spend the entire weekend with Carl. When he watched his son eating breakfast they cooked together, it reminded Rick how absolutely hopeless he'd been in young adulthood compared to his own son. Instead of something frivolous, he had Beth drop them at the shelter.
Carl absorbed the realities of people his own age being abandoned and homeless and squared his shoulders before asking Jesus what he could do to help. His son is on the schedule now, making a commitment to continue the science tutoring he started this afternoon. It was a good way to spend the day. Carl will never be as ignorant of the real world as Evelyn. Charity is more than writing a check and pretending it fixed the problem.
As he turns off the street and into the parking garage, Carl calls out from the backseat, "Hey, Dad?"
Rick glances up in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, son?"
"You're really okay with me going back down to the shelter, right?"
"Of course." He'd worried a little, that the kids wouldn't respond well to a kid who is obviously clueless about their lives and problems, but they didn't reject Carl. They encouraged him to keep asking questions and understand. It won't always be smooth sailing, because Rick saw some kids holding back from Carl's impromptu tutoring session. "We'll keep going together."
Talking to Joan reminded Rick that he's never used the degree he worked so hard on, other than to help Carl with homework over the years. Today, sitting with Annie and watching her anxiety fade as she grasped the review of her material? That was amazing. He loves being a cop and doesn't regret that's the career he chose, but he's starting to understand it's not an either or situation.
They've reached their individual garage, and he clicks the remote to open the door. Carl's grinning in the backseat, and Rick thinks it's the happiest he's seen his son in his presence since the divorce. "Thanks, Dad. I'd like that."
That's even more amazing, and he's smiling and lagging behind as Carl and Beth gather their takeout and leave him to use the keypad to lock the garage. The secure garages are closer to the elevators than the regular spots, so the younger pair are debating something about a school project he has due and don't notice when he doesn't enter the elevator with them. Rick can see Amanda's little car in the spot for the apartment, and he allows himself a spark of hope he shouldn't. But just as she opens the car door, her phone rings. The frustration when the call ends is something he's felt many a time when work curtailed plans.
She doesn't look his way when she drives past, too intent on navigating the parking garage. Disappointed, he jabs the button for the elevator and heads upstairs. In the end, he tamps down the wish to see Amanda tonight and sends her a text.
Stay safe out there tonight.