Chapter Six (Jane POV)

"You're going to what?" Mom and Abuela cry in simultaneous incredulity, although technically Abuela exclaimed her disbelief in Spanish.

So I'm not completely surprised that my family has major reservations about my decision to go on a road trip to Fort Myers with Michael to see his parents. Even as I explained to them my reasoning I could see that I was gradually losing them the more I talked. While they had been worried about Michael when he had been MIA, they became even more worried about me after I ran out of the house to track him down and then didn't return home for six hours. He has been back less than a week and my resulting erratic behavior is barely recognizable to them. On its face, I can understand why my behavior might seem irrational and impulsive to them. Dropping the bomb that I planned to leave with Michael when he meets his parents tomorrow morning is just the cherry on top of all the crazy.

Presently, my grandmother, mother and father are seated together on the couch across from me trying to process everything I've told them without completely freaking out (though, in all honesty, my dad takes the news better than anyone). They are regarding me with expressions varying from elation, concern and sympathy to outright shock. I don't need them to tell me they that think I'm making a mistake, specifically Mom and Abuela, because their facial expressions are evidence enough. Given the circumstances though, I get why they think it might be a bad idea.

My relationship with Rafael is currently suspended in a precarious state of limbo. I've been neglecting work. I've been neglecting school. But more importantly, I've been neglecting my family, most especially Mateo. I've been so preoccupied with the fact that Michael is back that I've spent very little time with my son over the past three days.

I try to lessen my guilt with the knowledge that he's strengthening his bond with his father and that's a good thing but it doesn't help much. I feel like a terrible mother. I don't want to be. I want Mateo to be my focus as he always has been but the indisputable truth right now is that Michael needs me and he has no one else. Then again, I know that Mateo needs me too and therein lies the crux of my dilemma. I'm having a tremendously difficult time trying to strike a balance between being Mateo's mother and being the friend that Michael needs. I confide to my mother, father and grandmother the difficulty that I'm having.

"Exactamente!" Abuela exclaims as if she just had a Eureka moment, "Es por eso que creo que debes poner distancia entre tu y Michael. Es muy confuso."

I gape at the suggestion. "Really? Abuela, you want me to keep my distance from Michael? How can you say that? You know what he's going through. We're the closest thing he has to family right now!"

"Lo sé y simpatizo con lo que está pasando, pero estoy preocupado por ti."

"Don't worry about me, Abuela. I'm not the one with amnesia."

"But you are the one with a strong attachment to him and it's growing by the second," my mother chimes in gently, "You know I don't always agree with your abuela but she's right. Jane, you're treading on dangerous ground here."

"Why is it dangerous to want to help a friend?" I argue, "I'm not going to leave him to face his parents, who are complete strangers to him at this point, alone!"

Mom levels me with a knowing look. "Michael is more than a friend to you, Jane, and you know it. He was your first, real love, your husband. Are you really going to sit there and tell me you don't have feelings for him anymore?"

I deliberately ignore the charge because that's something I'm not ready to deal with at the moment. Instead, I throw a desperate glance over at Rogelio who, up until this point, has not offered his insight at all. "What do you think, Dad? Do you think I should distance myself from Michael?"

"I don't think I'm the person you should ask this question, Jane," Rogelio explains in his usual, deliberate way, "As you know, I am very biased when it comes to Michael and I have wanted you to bring him home since the moment I learned he was alive. After all, he is my very best friend. If it were me, I would follow my heart." My mother groans his name in reprimand but Dad merely shrugs. "She asked and I answered. I've never made a secret of the fact that I am Team Michael. Hashtag Forever."

Mom elbows him in the side for that declaration which provokes Dad's offended yelp. "Stop that, Rogelio! There are no teams here. Michael is family. Rafael is family. We just have to figure out what comes next."

"I think she should follow her heart," Dad reiterates to her stubbornly before turning to address me, "Follow your heart, Jane."

"Well, right now, my heart is with Michael. He needs me so I'm going with him tomorrow whether you guys support me or not."

"¿Qué hay de lo que necesitas?" Abuela asks.

The question unnerves me. What did I need? Everything has been such a mess lately and has been moving and changing so quickly that I haven't had a moment to regain my bearings. Instead, it feels like I have been careening from one crisis to the another for the last 72 hours straight. The single moment of respite I've enjoyed in three days was walking with Michael today on the boardwalk.

"I don't know, Abuela. I'm still trying to figure that out."

My mother reaches over to grab my hand and give my fingers a brief, reassuring squeeze. "Please don't take this to mean that we aren't concerned about what happens to Michael," she tells me, "I've been beside myself ever since you told us he was alive. But, I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little concerned about his…mental state. Rafael said that Michael could be potentially dangerous because of what Rose might have done to him. I'm worried, Jane."

I clamp down the urge to growl several scathing curses under my breath. Please, not this ridiculous argument again! Rafael has been telling anyone who will listen about the potential threat Michael "may" pose to our family and it's all bogus to me. I know it's only his jealousy talking but it's difficult to be dismissive of his actions when my family takes every word he says at face value.

"Ma, you need to stop listening to Rafael! He feels threatened by Michael and he'll latch onto any excuse to get him out of our lives!" I cry in exasperation, "Listen to me. I've talked to Michael, spent time with him. He isn't dangerous. The truth is, he is the same man he's always been."

"Jane, be reasonable," Mom maintains, "You don't know what he's been through."

"Well, that's the irony. Neither does he. Right now he's a blank slate and he's taking life as it comes. I'm trying to do the same." I stare down at my hands, my internal conflict likely written all over my face right then. "I can't turn my back on him, Ma. I've missed him so much. I need him in my life. I need to be in his."

"We all know and understand what you're feeling, Jane," Mom replies in a gruff, sympathizing tone, "I meant what I said before. Michael is family. There's a very big part of me that wants to bring him home to us right now and damn the consequences but it's not that simple, is it? There are other factors to consider."

"Mateo," I surmise softly.

"And Rafael," Mom reminds me with equal softness, "Three days ago you were talking about marrying him! You're going to have to deal with him sometime, Jane."

It's a refrain I've heard several times in several variations over the past 48 hours while I scrambled and cried and wrung my hands because I didn't know where the hell Michael was. What about Rafael? What about Rafael? What about freaking Rafael? From Abuela, from Mom, from Petra, hell even from Lina and each time I hear it I want to scream, "What about him?"

Did he have five years of his life stolen from him? Did he possibly spend four of those five years being held prisoner and tortured? Did he lose his memory and spend the last six months rooting around in the dark trying to figure out who he was?

Rafael is fine. Yes, I know that he's feeling insecure right now with Michael's return and yes, I know it doesn't help that I've been practically ignoring him for days but it's just his ego on the line right now. He wants me to hold his hand and stroke his hair and reassure him that he's still the most important person in the world to me second only to Mateo. But I have bigger priorities than to salve Rafael's wounded pride. And I tell my mother exactly that.

"Okay. Okay. You don't have to get so snippy."

"It's just…if one more person asks me about Rafael I might completely lose it."

Abuela chooses that moment to throw in her own two cents. "¿Por qué no preguntamos por él? Tú eres quien lo eligió."

I can't really launch a credible counter argument following that succinct reminder and so I fall into petulant silence instead. Mom then tries to diffuse the tension by changing the subject altogether. "So how is Michael doing right now? Has he started to remember anything?"

"No. He says it feels like he's living someone else's life."

"¿Ha visto a un doctor?" Abuela asks, "Tal vez hay algo físicamente mal y es por eso que la pérdida de memoria persiste."

"That's a good question," I murmur as I turn over the possibility in my head, "I'll mention it to Michael next time I see him."

"Bueno. Si hay algo físicamente mal con él, entonces tal vez se puede arreglar."

"And if it's not physical, then what?"

Before Abuela can elaborate on the possible non-physical reasons for Michael's persistent amnesia, a knock sounds at the front door. "That should be Rafael with Mateo," I say, shifting to my feet, "We'll finish this conversation later." As my family rises to disperse into different parts of the house because they sense Rafael and I will need some privacy, I open the door for Rafael and Mateo. The instant I do, Mateo flies into my arms like he hasn't seen me in a century. I give him an exuberant squeeze and pepper his cheeks with loud, smacking kisses.

"Oh, I missed you too, Mr. Sweetface!" I exclaim as I swing him up into my arms, "Oooh, you're getting so big! Did you have fun with Daddy at the zoo?"

"We had lots of fun! We saw giraffes and lions and tigers and bears…"

"…Oh my…" His face is so bright with excitement that I can't help but be excited with him. It's also a welcome distraction from the knowledge that Rafael is standing somewhere behind me with a disapproving scowl on his face.

"…It was so great! We saw all the exhibits and Daddy bought me ice cream and I petted a goat!" I respond to that with so much gasping enthusiasm that he giggles and I don't know just how much I need that sound until it washes over me. "I wish you could have been there too." And with that one, mournful statement, I am backhanded back to reality.

My smile falters a little as I bend over to set him back down on his own feet. "I know, baby," I croon softly, "But remember what Mommy told you. I have friend and he's having a lot of trouble and I'm trying to help him because that's what friends do for each other. Next time, I'll go."

Mateo plucks distractedly at the top button of my blouse. "Who's your friend and why is he in trouble?"

I am mentally formulating an appropriate response when Rafael says, "Hey, Mateo, why don't you go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas? I'll tuck you in once you're done." We both watch as Mateo scampers off for the bathroom with affectionate smiles but as soon as he's out of earshot, the pretense is dropped. I can practically feel the fight looming and Rafael doesn't disappoint.

"So now you're missing our son's milestones to hold Michael's hand," he observes bitterly, "Is that how it's going to be now?"

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't become frozen in my skull. "What milestone, Raf? Mateo's been to the zoo three times already!"

"They had a new panda exhibit. You should have seen how psyched he was over it. You missed that with him."

Ah, Guilt, my old friend, I see you've come for an extended stay this time. Any righteous indignation I might have been building towards fizzles out completely after that. Having accomplished his mission to make me feel like the worst mother in the world, Rafael awaits my response. I regard him in chastened remorse. "You're right. I'm sorry. Did you, at least, take pictures?"

"I took tons of pictures but it's not the same as being there, Jane."

In that moment, I can't help but lament Rafael's lack of understanding about this situation. My fantasy version of him, while hurt and uncertain about Michael's return, would gallantly choose to refrain from pressuring me while I find my emotional footing again. And that's what I need. I need him to back off just a little so I can figure out who Michael and I are to each other now and who we will be in the future.

But I suppose that expectation is naïve. I can't expect that Rafael is going to be magnanimous about any of this, not when he feels like the perfect family he's envisioned for our future is being threatened. I sympathize with his fear and I want to alleviate it even while I resent him for it at the same time. See? I told you I was really confused.

"So was it worth it?"

I jerk a glance at him, his question cutting abruptly through my sullen musings. "Was what worth it?"

"The time you spent with Michael at the beach," he clarifies flatly, "I'm assuming that's where you spent most of the day."

"I found him on the boardwalk. He was getting lunch."

"Oh, so not dying in a ditch after all, huh?" Rafael observes sarcastically, "So, I was right. He didn't want to be found."

I clamp down on the urge to go on a tirade about Michael not knowing what he needed because he's in such a vulnerable state but I know Rafael won't see the reason in that argument. He'll only assume that I'm trying to justify my actions. In the end, I respond with a simple, "No, he didn't."

"So are you willing to drop all of this now? Can we move on from this debacle and focus on our family?"

"Rafael-,"

"—We can still close on that house we found," he cajoles with a soft smile, "All you have to do is say the word and it's ours."

"Rafael, you know I can't do that," I whisper mournfully, "This isn't the right time. You know it isn't the right time."

But I can see from the stubborn jut of his jaw that he doesn't. For him, this Michael situation has been wrapped up neatly complete with a bow. If Michael can't remember and, as far as he knows, doesn't want to remember then we can move forward without any hindrance. What he doesn't seem to acknowledge is that I remember the past and, inevitably, it is affecting my present and my view of the future. How can it not when Michael is alive? I ask Rafael that very question.

After taking a moment to listen for the running water coming from the bathroom, a sure indication that Mateo is preoccupied with playing in the sink, Rafael stuffs his hands into his pockets and regards me with a remote expression. "Tell me, Jane, how do you see this whole situation playing out?" he asks in a measured tone, "What's your endgame?"

I blink at him. "My endgame?"

"Do you expect me to just stand on the sidelines again and wait for you to figure out, one more time, who you want to be with? Me or Michael?" he demands bluntly, "Because that's not going to work for me."

"That's not what I'm doing and that's not what I want."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want for none of this to be happening!" I cry, "I hate that it's happening! I wanted to be engaged to you! I wanted to be living with you and Mateo in our new house! I wanted us to be a family! I wanted to help you build your hotel and leave a legacy for Mateo. That was the plan. That was my dream!"

He starts toward me, likely with the intent of pulling me in his arms but then he stops mid-step and I suspect that is the exact moment he realizes I have been speaking in the past tense. "You don't want those things anymore?" he asks thickly.

"I do. I think I do. But now there's a caveat because….because of Michael."

"It's only a caveat if you still want to be with him, Jane. And do you? Do you want to be with him?" he demands fiercely, "Tell me now so we can get this the hell over with!"

There's that question again. Do I want to be with Michael? The easiest answer is also the most frustrating. I don't know. At this very second, the answer is a firm no but I also realize that answer is fluid and subject to change. But presently, right this moment, I'm not even thinking of the possibility at all. For me, this is about someone I love, someone who has played a huge part in shaping the woman I've become, suffering a devastating loss and an uncertain future and I want to help him. Right now, that's all I have to give and that's all Michael is willing to accept. For that reason, I haven't allowed myself to think about anything beyond that.

"I don't want to be with Michael," I tell Rafael and, in that moment, it is the absolute truth.

"Do you want to be with me?" he follow ups painfully.

"I don't NOT want to be with you."

"What does that mean?"

"Rafael, come on!" I exclaim, "Do you really want to move forward with living together and marriage when you know Michael is alive and that his memories could come back at any time?"

"But I thought you said…"

"This isn't about whether or not I want to be with him," I interrupt before he can finish, "This is about your insecurity and how if you don't get a handle on this ridiculous jealousy you have, it's going to destroy us! You can't manage this situation like you manage a hotel!"

"Do you really blame me for being controlling?" he whispers, "My whole life is spinning out of control! You've thrown me over for the guy more than once, Jane. And this time, the stakes are so much higher because I never imagined I could love you as much as I do."

The sight of him breaking down is enough to disarm me emotionally and I close the distance between us with a teary sniffle to frame his face for my kiss. He drinks me in, kissing me deeply and fervently as if he expects he might never get the chance to do it again. "I love you so much, Raf," I whisper against his lips, "The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"I know. I know you're confused and scared and I haven't been making this easier for you," he murmurs, nuzzling his nose to mine, "I'll get better. I promise. But Michael's return has thrown me too. I'm sure I'll be less tense after he returns to Houston."

That misinformed statement brings with it the harsh reminder that there are still a few things Rafael and I need to talk about . I almost groan aloud because I'm dreading having to tell him that Michael isn't leaving after all, especially when we just achieved some modicum of peace between us. Reluctantly, I shrug out of his arms to whisk away the remaining tears wetting my cheeks.

"Why don't you…uh…go get the kid before he floods the bathroom," I suggest, having some difficulty meeting his eyes, "We'll talk more when you're done."

He smirks at me flirtatiously. "Who knows? Maybe we can do a little bit more than talking."

I offer him a wan smile in response but as soon as he's out of sight I drop the pretense. With an inward groan, I drop down onto the sofa while he wrangles with Mateo in the bathroom and anxiously play out in my mind how he'll react to the news that, not only is Michael staying in Miami but also that I'm taking an impromptu road trip with him tomorrow morning. It's going to be bad. I just know it is.

When I compose myself enough, I duck into the bedroom to join Rafael in Mateo's bedtime ritual. He is just starting to drift off to sleep when Mom, Dad and Abuela pop in to say their goodnights. Twenty minutes later, after Mateo has fallen asleep, my parents have gone home and my grandmother has bedded down for the night, Rafael and I tiptoe from the bedroom together and close the door behind us. The instant we're alone again, he reaches out and pulls me against him, his mouth turned up in a "come hither" smile.

"Now, where were we…" But before his hands can begin their wandering trek down my body, I wiggle out of his arms and put some needed distance between us. He takes one look at the pained expression on my face and knows instantly something has changed. "What is it?"

"I have to tell you something," I preface shakily, "but before I do, you have to promise you won't lose your temper. Promise me you'll keep an open mind."

"What's going on, Jane?" It doesn't escape my notice that he doesn't promise at all and that fact only heightens my apprehension.

"Michael's not going back to Houston after all," I blurt, cringing as I do, "He's going to stay here in Miami for six weeks like we originally agreed."

His expression is inscrutable but his eyes are alive with fire. "What did you say?"

"He's staying in Miami, Raf," I repeat softly.

"But I thought you said he didn't want to stay." I drop my eyes in guilty admission. "Oh, I see. You changed his mind."

"I didn't change his mind," but the denial sounds weak even to me, "I helped him to see the things more clearly."

"You mean you helped him to see things your way."

"Rafael, Michael has a life here. He has family here. He can't just walk away from that."

"But he wanted to walk away from it and now he's not…because of you." He palms his forehead in a frustrated gesture. "Which brings me right back around to my original question, Jane? What's your endgame here? Why is it so important to you that he stay?"

"Because beyond the fact that we were married, Michael is my friend. He has always been my friend and all I'm trying to do right now is help my friend."

"And that's it?" Rafael prompts and the desperate hope I hear in his voices devastates me, "That's all you want from him? Friendship?"

"Of course, it is!" I insist vehemently, ignoring the tiny, niggling voice inside of me that whispers "Really? That's all you want? Hah!" I stubbornly forge ahead. "I'm in love with someone else. He's in love with someone else. We're not the same people we were but…we had a connection once. I want to honor that." I take a fortifying breath to prepare myself for what comes next. "And that's the reason I've decided to go with him when he meets his parents tomorrow," I finish in a reluctant rush. I stand there with my eyes pinched tight, mentally bracing myself for Rafael's explosive reaction.

But it doesn't come. Surprised and little terrified, I unclench my eyes to find him staring at me with a hollow, bereft expression. I can see various emotions swirling in the murky depths of his eyes: fear, doubt, anxiety, anger, hurt…and finally, resolve. "Okay," he says after a deep breath, "Okay. You'll go with him tomorrow to meet his parents."

I gape at him, grateful for his come response but insensibly shocked as well. "That's it? That's all you're going to say? You're fine with it?"

"I'm hardly fine with it," he scoffs, "In fact, I hate it but I can see this is something you need to do so, I'll try to be supportive and let you do it."

"Oh." It seems my fantasy Rafael isn't such a fantasy after all. He's actually a very good man and probably more than I deserve. I have to kiss him again in that moment because it's just impossible for me not to kiss him. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"He scares me, Jane. But what scares me even more is losing you."

"You're not going to lose me, okay?" I reassure him, "I owe you an apology, Rafael…because I have been punishing you ever since I found out Michael was alive and that's not fair."

"No, it's not but I get it. I didn't tell you about him as soon as I knew and I should have. I wish I could go back and do it over. We should have handled it as a team and instead I shut you out."

"Yes, you did but I understand why you did."

"The point is, we've both made mistakes, Jane. I need to know that you forgive me, that this isn't going to come between us."

"It won't," I promise him, "I forgive you. Can you forgive me?"

He rains sweet kisses over my cheeks and nose and lips. "Of course I can. This is a unique situation, Jane, and right now we're trying to figure out how to get through it but we will get through it and we're going to be a family. I know we will."

And he sounds so convinced, so sure, that when he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight, I can't help but believe it too.