You're not meant to fully sympathize with Mia. But it is important to understand that she's trying to shoulder the weight of being crown princess, and Michael and her family refused to comply with each other. Now she's just trying to do her duty with as little involvement on Michael's part as possible. More will be explained later.

Oh, and the Biz Markie reference in last chapter's title was because of his hit, "Just a Friend" and how Michael introduces Mia to Olivia.

Before we parted ways, I made plans with Michael to stop by the loft again the next morning.

It's so weird knowing Michael in this context. I mean, over the years I've known him as Lilly's brother, object of my secret affection, first kiss (I don't count Josh Richter), first love…first everything, really.

And now the only role he's assuming is 'father of my unsuspecting child.' Precious.

Michael always was a good actor, though. "I love you more than anything, Mia…Anything for you, Mia…We've got forever, Mia…"

I banished all these thoughts out of my head as I approached Michael's door the next day. Already my head ached from a night of tossing and turning in an unfamiliar bed, though I don't think hotel sheets were the problem.

Lars smirked behind his sunglasses, stuffing his beefy hands into the pockets of his trench coat. "I think it'd be all right to ring the buzzer, Princess. After all, it's been ten minutes."

I shot a glare his way, suddenly not liking this friends-ish arrangement we've fallen into. And anyway, you don't mock your friends when they're just the least bit hesitant to spend a whole day with their estranged daughter.

Would it even help if Olivia knew who I was?

Lars sighed and reached over my shoulder to jab at the buzzer.

Stay calm. He is about one thousand pounds of pure muscle. You couldn't take Rene…you most definitely can't take him.

"Thanks!" I said, faking cheery in a way nobody but a reluctant teenage princess can. And Rene thinks I've lost my youth.

"Who's there?" called a tinny voice.

"Mia!"

Pause. "Oh…come on up!"

That's easier said than done.

In the time it took me to hike up Michael's stares and hesitantly open his door, he had managed to forget all about our brief intercom exchange. Instead, he was engaged in what seemed to be a no-holds-barred, tickle free-for-all with Olivia.

Surprisingly enough, she seemed to be getting the better of him, kneeling over him and giggling just as much as he was, though without the tears streaming down her cheeks. Thattagirl. Michael always did suck at tickling.

"Oh, hey, Mia! I forgot you were coming," said Michael casually, regaining his breath. Olivia looked up at me quizzically as I did my best not to fume.

OH, HEY, MIA?

"Hey!" I said, still in I'm-definitely-psyched-and-not-terrified-slash-pissed mode. "You guys look like you're having fun."

Olivia had totally clammed up at that point, preferring to bury her head in Michael's shoulder as he tried not to smirk.

But he didn't try that hard.

I refused to sink to Michael's level, though. I mean, this isn't a WAR. It's our daughter!

"So, Olivia," I said sweetly, crouching down, "What's your favorite color?"

Okay, now he's outright giggling.

She made no response, though, except to hug Michael tighter. When I was her age, I was absolutely petrified of teddy bears, which I'll admit is a tad weird. But to have a phobia about your mother? That's supposed to wait until you're at least in college, isn't it?

"Michael," I said, through gritted teeth. I can't be blamed for getting a bit peeved. After all, he's in no way helping me reconnect with our child. "Can I see you in the kitchen?"

"What for?" he asked, all innocently.

I didn't know how well "to kick your ass" would bode, so I stuck with a firm "because."

Thankfully, he obliged, peeling Olivia off of him. "I'm just going to talk to my good friend Mia for a second." She whispered something in his ear. "Of course I'll be careful," he assured her.

Oh, for Christ's sake.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at him once we were in the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" he asked, still looking supremely nonplussed.

"You're sabotaging this on purpose! She isn't just yours, you know. If I want to talk to her, I can. If I want to take her to Genovia, I sure as hell will."

His expression stayed blank while his voice turned to ice. "Forget about it, Mia. You gave all that up years ago."

"I never cheated," I reminded him.

I watched with triumph as his face clouded over. "You might as well have. Genovia's your fuck-buddy far more than I ever was."

For a moment, I was torn between which was more offensive to me. Is that all Michael has labeled our relationship as? Some torrid sex affair?

And by no means would I ever associate my role in Genovia with any sort of sex.

"Michael," I said, an ounce of pleading creeping into my voice. "I'm not here to ruin your life or barge into your cozy little world. But Olivia…she's my daughter. And it turns out she's in line for the throne. I know we didn't plan on it, but jeez, Michael, you know how things are. I can't just tell them that there's no future ruler of Genovia because her father was being childish."

He clenched his jaw, looking contemplative in a way that only Oprah and the Enquirer brought about.

"Okay," he said finally.

Clunk! went my jaw as it hit the floor.

"You don't have to feed me any more Genovia shit because, honestly, I couldn't care less. But since…since it doesn't seem like…since you've got these obli…since she really is…we'll go."

"We'll?" I echoed.

"We'll," said Michael firmly. "You, me, and Olivia. When's our flight?"

Oh, Jeebus.

You know the drill!