The Stranger On The Roadside
AN: Thank you for reviewing the last chapter. Happy New YEAR!
The Talk, Part II
Michonne slipped off the bed and walked towards Rick; a lesser person would have reconsidered doing so, given the murderous look registered on his face. It was similar to the look she saw displayed in her mother's kitchen earlier that day. One thing was consistent because it seemed her father possessed the unique ability to piss off those who knew him best.
"What?" she asked, concerned as the realization of what she stated dawned on him. His face softened at her touch, and clear blue eyes stared back at her.
"If your mother hid my identity from you, then I take it she didn't bother to tell you that Bob's back because in her eyes, we're one in the same—deadbeat fathers even though I didn't even know I had a son until a few days ago."
Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and watched Michonne's mouth fall open.
Uncertain she heard him right, Michonne asked, "Excuse me?"
"Bob lives right here in Georgia."
"Where?" She asked curious at the revelation.
"A small town just outside of Savannah called Oceanside."
Michonne sat on the edge of the bed next to the chair. She took a drink of water and placed the bottle back on the desk.
"And how do you know this?"
Rick's complexion darkened. It betrayed him. "I have my ways," he confessed.
"And I'm sure that that's code for not quite above board, right? So what's he like?"
"You can't be serious, right? The man's an arsehole. Why do you care so much?" he asked, raising his brow questioning her judgment.
"Correction, that would be one resurrected arsehole." She mocked, trying to affect his accent.
"Are you making fun of me?" He asked, feigning hurt.
"No. Just stating the facts, Sheriff," Michonne replied with a warm smile. "Plus, I'm curious. My third birthday was my last memory of him. He got me the dollhouse I wanted and he played with me for a while. I remember being so happy. Mom told me he left for New York a few days later. We visited him there, but I have no recollection of that."
"You're not missing much. As I was sayin', shortly after Teia was born, I came home for lunch one afternoon to find him at my house. He wanted to meet his granddaughter. It seems he had no problem skipping out on being a father, but somehow, he had a change of heart and wanted to be a grandfather."
"And, you didn't believe him?"
"Well, let's just say I'm surprised he hasn't looked you up."
"And why is that?"
"Because he didn't exactly want to be a grandfather as much as he wanted to manipulate Charmaine's feelings."
"How so?"
"He wanted something—apparently, his son needed a bone marrow transplant, so he decided to look up the daughter he abandoned."
Michonne mentally calculated the timing. According to her mother, when her father turned up in King County three years ago, she threatened him with physical harm. Then, suddenly, it all made sense, and her mother didn't seem like such a monster after all.
"He admitted that?" Michonne asked, taking note of the information.
"Well, he might have had some encouragement. But, in any event, I made sure he disappeared from our lives as fast as he resurfaced."
"And Charmaine? How exactly did you explain his sudden disappearance to your child bride, who clearly has daddy issues?" Michonne asked, fidgeting with her sling.
"You don't quit, do you?" Rick asked, looking at her to determine where she was heading because she constantly kept him guessing.
"What?" she asked innocently.
"Why do you say that? I'm five years older than your sister—and the two of you can't be no more than four years apart."
"Are you seriously asking me my age, Rick? Don't you know a gentleman never asks a lady her age?"
Rick blushed. He chuckled and shook his head. His fingers flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his jeans, then he straightened up. "I give up, Michonne. What exactly are you trying to tell me?"
"I thought it was obvious."
"It's not because I'm clueless."
"Not completely," she teased.
"I'm confused. What exactly is going on here? I thought we both agreed we had too much to lose—" Rick added, his grey-blue eyes squinted at her with a slight tilt of the head, searching for clarification.
"Calm down, Rick. I'm messing with you. But, of course, it goes without saying; we could never do any of that again," Michonne added.
Suddenly, Michonne felt flushed as another memory pierced the shaky barrier she had constructed to protect her marriage by separating the activities she engaged in, in this very room. But the fleeting memory was so vivid; she swallowed hard as she recalled Rick's hand roughly grabbing her hair from behind. The other held firmly on her shoulder as the force of him drove her body deeper into the mattress. But under the scrutiny of his piercing cerulean blues, her breathing changed, so she stood and slowly walked away from him, allowing herself time to clear her head and distancing herself from the energy building between them. What the hell was she thinking, being in this room again with him? It was as if she had multiple personalities because parts of herself, the woman he knew as Nikki, kept slipping into their conversation.
It was hard to believe six years had passed. Yet, despite it all, the undertow remained strong because conversation with Rick was always easy but nuanced. Because of this, lines blurred easily. This was their fifth encounter and fourth within a few days since her family moved into the new house in Macon. But given the gentle push and pull between them, Michonne knew they were sitting on a tinderbox. One word of encouragement, and it would burn to the ground.
...
Rick watched as Michonne walked away. He moistened his lip and exhaled. Being in this room wasn't easy for him, and being so damn close to her was a fucking mistake. Her perfume triggered thangs, like the taste of her on his lips and the way she moved while he ate her out, the grip of her hands on the back of his head, and the way she arched her back and surrendered herself to him. The way their bodies moved gracefully in their slow dance to completion. He recalled her moans and the way her long legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper inside of her. The way she bit her plump heart-shaped lip when he hit that certain spot and the way her body writhe beneath his. The way her face contorted when she orgasmed and the many times she did so that night. They had so fucking much to lose now; he couldn't chance to be weak again, so he repeated a mantra in his head: two marriages, two kids, and a baby on the way to remind himself what they had worth fighting for. What the hell was it about her that made him want to throw caution to the wind? Six years ago, she warned him nothing could come of their dalliance. But he thought he was man enough to handle the chance encounter. It was one night with an exquisite woman, one clearly out of his league and one he was confident he'd never see again. How could he say no? What could possibly go wrong? Consenting adults did it all the time, but he wasn't just any man; he wasn't the kind to play on that level. He needed substance, but he was forewarned. Yet still, he waited in this damn room every Friday night for four weeks for a knock on the door, which never came. She was lost to him, completely gone.
He could have walked back to his room alone that night, but he didn't because the pull between them was too great to ignore. She was breathtaking, and he was weak. He fell under her charm. The moment felt right. And he was glad he did because she felt right. He knew Nikki was trouble from her first kiss. She awoke feelings in him he never understood. He felt alive that night, and she made it all possible. It should have been one night, except, here she was in the flesh, not trouble, but Michonne, the mother of his son. And like her, he stood to lose so much if they fucked up.
...
After mentally clearing her head, Michonne turned to face him again, but she kept her distance this time. She remained standing in the middle of the room.
"Good, at least we're on the same page," he added, grateful that she kept her distance.
"Unfortunately, you'll have to tell her about this because it can't come from me. After all, despite Malyk's chivalrous attempt to be the bigger man in this mess, Charmaine and I are not exactly besties. Plus, I think this is something you might want to tackle while she has support because the truth will come out sooner or later, and you don't want it to come from someone else because it won't be pretty for you.
Rick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, now you care for my well-being?"
"Isn't that how we ended up in this room in the first place?"
"Touché."
"FYI, you're gonna be in the dog house for a while once you tell her that not only did we fuck six years ago, she's been my surrogate since you met."
"Charmaine's not your surrogate, Michonne. She's my wife. And you don't look anything alike."
"If you say so—after all, you're the expert since you've sampled both sisters; but my husband, who met your wife for the first time, seems to think otherwise."
"Have you ever considered he just wanted a reaction from you? Are you jealous?"
"I'm not jealous of your child bride. You said I was your guardian angel. So, this is me, the angel—guarding the life of my child's father. You might say I now have a vested interest in keeping you safe."
"You're hilarious; you know that? You should be a comedian. You missed your calling." He pointed to her hand, "It's not too late, if the chef thang doesn't work out, you should give it a try."
"Look at you; you've got jokes. Ha. Ha."
All the talking had made her mouth dry, so Michonne walked towards the desk. She retrieved her water bottle and drank half of it.
Rick glanced at his watch. It was late. He stood as he prepared to leave. "I better head out. I have an early start ahead of me tomorrow."
Michonne swayed a bit. She felt a little off. As a result, she sat on the edge of the bed but made no further attempt to move.
"Are you okay?" Rick asked.
"I'm really not sure I should be operating a vehicle right now."
"Why?"
"I took those pills on an empty stomach; now my mouth feels like a wad of cotton because I hadn't eaten since breakfast."
"I could drop you off."
"I don't want to leave my mother's car in this area unattended. I'll be fine."
Rick walked towards the bed.
Michonne's eyes followed his bowlegged swagger with a raised brow, wondering what the hell he was thinking. God knows they should not be spending more time alone under any circumstances.
"What are you doing, exactly?"
"I'm a cop and a father. Six years ago, you were concerned about letting me stay here alone. Back then, you had no clue that I was a cop. I know what happens in places like this—the seedy characters that come and go from here and the late-night drug deals, so having said that—" He toed off his boots and sat next to her on the bed.
"Move over. You're on my side of the bed."
"Rick, are you out of your bloody mind?"
"Maybe, but I'm not letting my son's mother sleep here alone."
"I'll be fine. I need to eat."
"As I've said before, I have an early start tomorrow and a long day ahead of me. And as you so aptly put it, there's a 'dog house' is in my future. So, shall we, because this would probably be the last time I sleep in a bed until I return home."
Michonne recognized RJ in him. He was as stubborn as his son. She knew it was pointless arguing with him, so she pushed to the other side of the bed and made room for him.
"I'm ordering burgers. Do you want anything?"
"I'll have whatever you're having," he lazy replied.
Michonne then retrieved her phone and made the order.
...
Hours later...
Rick and Michonne were fully clothed and fast asleep.
Hours later, Rick's restlessness scattered the pillow barrier, and the sheets lay tangled between them. Eventually, his arm came to rest on Michonne's hip, which calmed him for a while. Then, his restless arm pulled Michonne closer a while later, and she snuggled into his warmth.
In the wee hours of the morning, when their alarms simultaneously went off, and Michonne's eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she uttered, "OH SHIT!"
The two rolled apart.
"I'm sorry!" Rick added.
One look, and it was understood they could never be this close again.
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