So this one isn't fantastically long either, but I'll definitely strive for that in the future. The thing is--Schwartzibrow wrote these out with a 1000-word/chapter thing in mind, and with the plot laid out already and everything, it's hard to squeeze stuff in. Believe me, though, there will be enough chapters to satisfy your appetites.

Thanks for the reviews! And I had a great time in New Orleans. The best part was when I bought Mighty Ducks on DVD. Emilioooooooooooooooooooooo.

Ch. 18

I watched Michael as he jiggled the doorknob. "Olivia, sweetie, just come on out here and we'll talk about this." No response. "How am I supposed to know what you want if you don't tell me?"

There was a somewhat selfish thought running through my head as I watched Michael plead with the closed door, and surprisingly enough, it had nothing to do with his ass.

He had mentioned other women, hadn't he? What other women! I mean, there was that immoral slut from work—but that was seven years ago! What happened to the Mr. Mom image he'd been whoring around me? He probably left Olivia with a babysitter more often than not while he gallivanted around the city with a skank on each arm!

"The other door's locked too," said Michael worriedly.

"Well, what do you wanna do?" I put aside my jealous inner-rant for a moment and walked over to Michael's side. This was more important than Michael's syphilis-supplier.

"I want her to be okay with this," he said, slipping his calloused hand into mine. "With us."

Us.

But just how many other girls had he fed that crap to?

"We could try the window," I said hurriedly, before I did or said something I'd regret later.

"Good thinking."

The only downside of my plan was that the window was already open when we got around to the back of the house. "Oh, gosh," whispered Michael, doubling up and clutching his stomach. "Oh, my gosh."

"Chill, Michael," I said soothingly. My hand automatically reached out to rub his back. "We'll just go look for her."

He jerked away from me, glowering. "It's not that simple. Look around, Mia. All I see is the ocean, and last time I checked, Olivia can't really swim."

"That's not my fault," I snapped. Hadn't most of the day been taken up by Michael's swim lesson? But knowing Michael, he's back on the bit about me being conspicuously absent for most of her childhood.

"You should've been there."

As if I hadn't heard this lecture a thousand times before. Not that it didn't mean anything—it just hurt a little too much. For a guy who had been kissing me only minutes before, he sure was intent on ruining my day.

He was still sort of fuming as I walked off. "Olivia!" I called. "Come on out, game's up!" I figured the longer I told myself that she was merely hiding, the more time I bought for my sanity.

I turned around briefly to see Michael jogging the other way.

Is it just me or is this a tad too much parenting for one day? As I pounded along the shore, I cursed myself for not slipping on a pair of flip-flops. By the time this is all over, I'll be boasting a pair of hobbitesque feet.

For once, though, I had an advantage over Michael. Being a pretty confident, Y-chromosomed gentleman, he totally isn't used to the 'freak out and weep hysterically' method of dealing with the lemons life hands you.

Which is why my ears were so sensitive to Olivia's sniffles, even though she was camped out underneath the stairs of a house six doors down.

"Hey there," I said softly, kneeling down beside her.

She merely sniffled and glared at her knees.

"Whatcha doin'?" I tried again.

"Leave me alone."

"Look, Olivia, there's really no need to get so worked up. If you'd let me—"

"All you care about is looking good for my daddy. He hates you. Did you know that?"

It sure seems like it. "He did," I said slowly, partially lying. "And he had every reason to. But we've worked things out. Believe me, though, I had no idea it would turn out like this. Hones—"

She cut me off once more. "He hates you!" she practically shrieked. "You hurt him and you're gonna make him cry again and he's gonna not get out of bed on certain days unless Aunt Lilly forces him to and it'll ruin everything, okay? Everything!"

"When didn't he get out of bed?" I asked, utterly confused.

Still glowering at me, she launched into her explanation in a rather clipped tone. "He used to tell me stories about this really pretty princess and she fell in love with a Jedi knight. They could do anything and had all sorts of superpowers and anything they wanted would just magically happen. But then the princess got greedy and realized the one thing she was missing was her very own bit of land. So instead of staying with the wonderful Jedi who did everything he could to make her happy, she pranced off to some stupid country where they praised her because they were stupid."

We looked at one another for a moment. "You're the princess," said Olivia unnecessarily. "The one that the Jedi knight used to go out and get really weird and sick because of."

I felt a sinking realization in my stomach. Sometimes I think I'd be better off unaware of what Michael did or how he felt these past few years.

But most of the time I know I wouldn't be.

"Maybe…" I started slowly, choosing my words carefully. "Maybe this is his happy ending. Everything could turn out all right, you know. The princess could've realized the errors in her judgment. She might actually really miss the Jedi knight. She probably even didn't get out of bed because of him sometimes."

"Really?"

I nodded, hugging my knees to my chest. "I know what I'm doing," I fibbed.

It's not that awful that I regained Olivia's trust through a white lie, is it?

"What happened to you teasing me about being Michael's girlfriend, though?" I asked suddenly. Michael's girlfriend—just thinking of that inspires an Olivia-esque fit of giggles.

She rolled her eyes. "I was kidding." Her gaze found me again, the corners of her lips turning up. "Maybe the joke's on me, though."

"Well, she's never really been accepting of any woman I've dated, ever. In the end I just stopped trying to find one she'd be happy with…"

I ruffled her wispy blonde hair. "We've all got your best interests at heart, Liv."

What's worse? Being a selfish loser or giving up great opportunities by choice?

Not that I'll necessarily have to pass up on Michael again. Olivia's basically given the stamp of approval! I just hope Michael agrees.

- - -

Michael looked like he was gonna break down all over again when we met him a few minutes later. "Thank gosh," he murmured, crushing Olivia into a bear hug. "I was so flipping scared. Don't…please don't do that again."

She nodded, pressing her face firmly into his collarbone. "Daddy," she whispered loudly. "You're gonna be happily ever after. It'll all be alright."

He sat back on his heels and looked from a giggling Olivia to a furiously blushing me. "Am I missing out on something?"

"Nothing at all!" I squeaked before she could say a word.

- - -

Once Olivia was put to bed, I was sure things would get awkward. "I'm glad you're here," whispered Michael, coming into the kitchen and resting his hands on my hips.

Glad and reluctant are totally two different things, right?

I couldn't help but grin. "I'm glad too." Of course I'm glad! Unless this is Michael's oddball way of telling me to get the hell out of their lives.

But I'm starting not to worry so much, you know? Not only is Olivia perfectly safe, but Michael has seen that she's fine and dandy…and perfectly willing to welcome me in whatever role I take in this family.

You know what? I think I might be happy.

"I didn't think…this would happen," he said shyly. "I didn't think it was even possible. But you always did surprise me."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, the shocked one this time around.

He leaned even closer, this form practically molding into mine. "Definitely. Like when you'd blow up at Lilly sometimes."

"Oh, God, don't remind me," I groaned, thinking of shapeless, frizzy Mia, screaming herself hoarse over something stupid.

"You looked damn hot," he laughed. "It was a nightmare every time you'd come over. Cold showers and pillow-pounding every half an hour."

"Seriously!"

"Maybe I'm exaggerating just a little. But I was definitely turned on."

"Why are you telling me all this now?"

"It was just on my mind," he murmured, kissing my neck. "You're still the same, you know."

"I don't know about that…"

He silenced me with a relatively chaste peck on the lips. "Sweet, caring, funny, adorable, hot…"

I grabbed his wrist just as he began tugging at the hem of my shirt. "Olivia."

"We'll be quiet," he said quickly, a hint of pleading entering his tone.

"Can you?" I joked, causing him to blush.

"Okay," he conceded. "Bed. We'll go to bed like normal, but tomorrow. Tomorrow Olivia can go over to Sebastiano's and we'll stay back here…"

"And bake cookies?" was my coy retort.

"Oh, is that what they're calling it nowadays?"

Y'all should all go listen to Van Morrison. Like, right now. But before you do that...review.