Chapter Fifteen (Michael POV)
I'm having a hard time believing any of this is real.
Currently, I am lying on my mother's newly reupholstered sofa, completely naked, with an equally naked Jane snuggled against me. She's draped lazily across my body, her leg thrown over my thighs. Her cheek is resting against my shoulder as she randomly traces the ridged scar to my upper left chest, the remnants of a bullet wound that I barely remember. But what I do remember is laying with her like this countless time before. It feels almost normal, like we hadn't lost those five years after all. In spite of the depressing circumstances that brought her here tonight, I can't help but smile.
"You always do that," I remark wryly.
I feel her smile stretch against my skin. "Do what?"
"Trace that stupid scar. I don't know what your fascination is with it."
She shifts her weight so that she can look down at me when she answers. "It's not fascination," she tells me in a strangely emotional tone, "It's a reminder that your being here with me is a miracle and I never want to take that for granted, Michael."
I can sense the underlying reprimand in her words, the implication that I have been taking this second chance that we've been handed for granted. "I've been a real jackass to you, haven't I?
"Yes. Yes, you have," she laughs in agreement, "But I think I knew you'd come around…eventually."
I tug her closer for a tender but thorough kiss. "I'm really glad you're here."
She smiles against my mouth. "Me too."
After she settles back down against me with a sleepy yawn, I hold her close, letting my hand drift idly up and down the length of her back because I can't suppress the need I have to touch her right now. Gradually, she grows heavier and heavier against me and I know it's because she's starting to drift off. But while Jane seems relaxed enough to nap, I find that I'm too wired to sleep which, I think, is rather unusual for me. Now that the haze of lust has ebbed, my thoughts are racing crazily as the full enormity of what's happened between us finally hits me.
Jane and I just had sex, incredible, spontaneous, amazing, non-married sex. I'm not complaining about it but, clearly a lot has changed in the last five years. I'm hardly an expert on our past relationship just yet but what I can recall about being with her back then was that it had involved a great deal of waiting…and waiting…and many months of freaking waiting. There had actually been a time when she had been very much against pre-marital sex or, at the very least, had wanted to avoid it. I'm sure that her feelings about that could have changed after she had given birth, married and been widowed all within a short period of time but it still feels…weird, I guess.
But tonight, she had shown no signs of conflict or hesitation whatsoever. She had come after me with the full confidence of knowing what she wanted and having the willingness to take it without apology. She was bold and sexy and fierce in a way I don't quite remember her being. I'm intrigued by the difference but, at the same time, it doesn't feel familiar to me. It's a stark reminder that there are still many things about Jane I don't know yet, things I don't know about myself either. The realization is a little unnerving.
Still, I don't regret that it happened. In fact, I'm already planning for it to happen again. But the truth is, there is still so much unsettled between us, so much we still have discuss about what we want from one another and how we envision our future, both individually and as a couple. In addition to that, we haven't even talked about Mateo or Lorena or…Rafael at all and they are an enormous subject that we cannot avoid.
In spite of knowing that, however, I find myself scowling when I think of Rafael Solano. I'd much rather not think about him at all but that is an impossibility because of how intricately his life is woven with Jane's. He is a vital part of her that I can't ignore or underestimate. His specter lurks in the room with us right this second because even though Jane and I have taken this monumental step together, I still can't be sure what type of feelings she has for Rafael or how deep they go. We've sort of jumped right into playing the game without taking a moment to lay the ground rules first. I hate that I'm harboring any doubts at all about her feelings and I hate him as well.
There are times that the intensity of rage I feel for the guy actually frightens me. When he first brought me back to Miami with him, I was mistrustful of his motives but I didn't really have any real dislike for him. I'd mainly wanted to know the motivation behind why he'd brought me back with him in the first place. But as my memories have started to resurface in the past few weeks there is a sheer loathing that I have for him that surprises me. Sometimes when I'm asleep at night, I literally dream about hurting him, can hear an insidious voice whispering to me, reminding me of how much I hate him, how much he's taken from me and how I should make him pay.
When I wake from those dreams, I'm panicked and confused and filled with shame that the thoughts were even in my head to begin with. I don't know where they're coming from because the actions I carry out in my subconscious are not anything I would think of doing in real life. Because, in spite of what I feel about Rafael Solano, he is Mateo's father. Mateo loves him and I love Mateo and, for that reason alone, I would never do anything to hurt the guy. Yet, in spite of my conviction, that dark part of my soul continues to linger, the part of myself I don't want to acknowledge or think about, the part that does want to hurt him.
I've talked to my therapist about it and he theorizes that what I'm feeling is a latent response to Rafael's intrusion into my well ordered life nearly a decade ago. He seems to think as my memories return, my resentment of Rafael is returning with it because I am, essentially, reliving those moments from the past. Beyond that, he doesn't seem too concerned about the nightmares I've been having or growing feelings of rage that plague me. I know that it's something I need to discuss with Jane, especially now, but I'm not really sure how exactly I should tell her that sometimes I dream about killing her baby daddy.
I know it's not something I can put off forever. Rafael Solano is a subject that we need to discuss but, at the same time, I'm not at all eager to do it. I don't hold any illusions that it will be an easy or simple conversation either which makes the prospect of doing it even less appealing. At this present time with everything I have going on right now, I don't think I can wrestle with Jane's possible unresolved feelings for Rafael and the hatred I have for him on top of everything else, not to mention dealing with that while I'm still recovering my memory. Then again, perhaps this was something I should have come to terms with before Jane and I slept together.
"What are you thinking about?"
I startle slightly at Jane's sudden question. "Hey. I thought you were asleep."
"Nope. Just lying here, listening to your heart beat about million miles a minute."
"Oh. Sorry about that."
"So…" she presses, lifting her head to regard me when I don't elaborate further on that subject, "Are you going to tell me what's making your heart race?"
"You."
She grins at my reply and, right then, she's never looked more beautiful to me. Her dark eyes are glowing, her tousled hair framing her face. I've finally reached the point where I can appreciate this new length in comparison to the way she had once worn it but I can admit that that the way she wears it now is pretty sexy too. I can plainly see the love she has for me written all over her face and seeing it there helps to soothe the misgivings I've been having.
"Haha," Jane laughs, lightly tapping the tip of my nose with her finger, "Nice try but flattery will get you nowhere. I'm serious. Tell me what you're thinking, Michael."
"I'm thinking that we have a lot to talk about…" I hedge finally, "…and I'm not really sure where to begin."
The brightness of her smile fades a little. "Yeah…I know."
"So shouldn't we do that? You know…talk and stuff?"
"Well, if you want to but…" She begins tracing tantalizing circles across my abdomen with her index finger, her touch descending in a deliberate trek towards my groin. "I'm not really in the mood for talking right now."
"No?" She shakes her head, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. When she dips her head and nuzzles against my chest, her tongue darting out to against my skin, I can't keep myself from smiling. "So what do you want to do?" I whisper but I know the answer to that question long before her hand slips lower to fondle my softened genitals. It only takes a few seconds before I start to harden beneath her touch. "Oh, okay…" I say as I deftly flip our positions so that I'm settled between her legs, "I think I can live with that…"
Thirty minutes later, we're sweaty and breathless and tangled together on the floor. In our enthusiasm to be together, we managed to fall off of the sofa completely and have somehow ended up wedged in between it and the coffee table. But that had hardly deterred us. Now Jane is lying on top of me with her face tucked into the crook of my neck, our bodies still connected intimately. I absently sift my fingers through the sweat-dampened strands of her hair and simply drink in the wonder of this perfect moment.
"I just want to stay right here with you like this forever," Jane mumbles, her words muffled against my skin, "I don't want to move."
"Yeah, but we're going to have to eventually," I urge without much conviction, "My mom's going to be home soon so we should probably get dressed."
Unfortunately, with the mention of my mother, I am suddenly reminded of the reason she left in the first place and my grief and guilt over my brother settles over me anew but this time the feeling is accompanied by burning shame as well. It's not that I'd forgotten that my brother was dead but, for the last hour and a half, I hadn't thought about it. The realization makes me feel a little sick because I don't know if I should be able to put Billy's death out of my mind so easily, not when I know that I'm the one responsible for it in the first place. I don't know if I should be feeling as happy as I am right now.
I start to shift from beneath Jane, feeling a twinge of regret when I slip from inside her and the physical connection between us is broken. But before I can roll away completely to begin retrieving my scattered clothes, she grabs hold of my forearm to waylay me. I don't resist her effort. When I turn back to face her I find that she's regarding me with a frown of concern.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
Once again, her intuition when it comes to my emotions leaves me a little astonished. "It's nothing."
"It's something. Tell me." When I still hesitate, mostly because I'm trying to find a way to verbalize what I'm feeling, she mistakes my resistance for something else entirely. Her eyes brighten with unshed tears. "Do you regret what happened between us?"
"No! Not at all!"
My response is so emphatic that it prompts her wobbly smile. "Then what's with the face?"
"Billy," I finally confess in an under-breath, "He's dead and I'm…"
"Alive. You get to live, Michael. That's okay."
"But I'm living because he's not," I remind her brusquely.
She scoots closer behind me and circles her arms around my waist. I can't help but relax a little when I feel her lips nibble at the back of my shoulder. "You don't know that."
"I sure as hell do know that! Someone kidnapped me, likely Sin Rostro, faked my death and then killed my brother to keep up the ruse," I recount with brutal candor, "He was just collateral damage. He wasn't even a person to them."
"That's not your fault," she insists, "You're as much a victim in this whole mess as your brother."
"There's a difference. He died alone, Jane. At least I have you, Mateo, my parents and yours. Billy didn't have anyone."
"That was his choice, Michael. You tried with him. He's the one who didn't want to change."
I know she's trying to make me feel better and I'm grateful that she cares but this is not something from which I should be absolved. I carry the weight of my brother's death because I am responsible. There is little anyone can say to me, even Jane, that will soften that brutal reality.
"Did I ever tell you what the autopsy revealed?" She shakes her head. "A lethal dose of potassium chloride. Stopped his heart instantly. That's how they killed him…like he was vermin."
"Michael…"
"I'm going to make her pay. I'm going to figure out how she did it and I'm going to make her pay."
"Maybe you should let the police handle that," Jane suggests, leaning forward to nuzzle against my cheek, "Rose Solano is psychotic and she's already targeted you twice. I don't want to make it a third time."
I'm thinking that this is probably a good time to tell her I might return to the police force soon but the sudden illumination of approaching headlights within the living room has me biting out an alarmed curse instead. "My mom's home! Hurry! Get dressed!"
We frantically scramble around the living room to collect our clothing, wiggle back into to them, rearrange the cushions on my mother's precious sofa and try not to look like we've spent the last 90 minutes having sex on her living room floor all before my mother can exit the garage and enter the house. In the end, I'm missing one sock so I decide to go barefoot entirely. Jane can't find her underwear and is forced to go full on Commando.
Of course, I discover the conspicuous scrap of silk wedged under to leg of the sofa just as I hear the door leading from the garage slam, an indication that my mother has entered the house. I have barely enough time to snatch them up and shove them into the pocket of my sweatpants when my mom comes walking into the living room. I pray devoutly to God in that moment that Jane and I don't look as frazzled as we feel and that distinctive scent of sex has faded from the room.
"Michael, is that Jane's…" She stops short, her question suspended in the air as she sets eyes on a disheveled Jane standing in her living room. Her lips compress in a tight smile. "I guess it is," she mumbles, "Hello, Jane. I saw your car outside. It's late. What are you doing here?"
We exchange a furtive glance, acutely aware of our ruffled states, and make a silent, mutual agreement to completely play it off. "I…I heard about Billy, Mrs. Cordero," Jane says, "I wanted to offer my condolences."
Mom's guarded expression relaxes but only a little. "Thank you, Jane." She glances around the living room with a deep frown and I really have to fight the urge to squirm. Suddenly, I feel like I'm sixteen again and she's just walked into my bedroom to find me making out with our neighbors' teenage daughter. It's all very awkward. I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until she asks Jane, "How long have you been here?"
"Just an hour or so," Jane replies, and I can tell she's fighting the same urge I have to fidget, "I came as soon as I heard the news." She winces almost immediately over that particular phrasing which gives me no option but to cover for her as she totally loses her self-possession.
"You were gone for a long time," I remark to my mother, "How did Dad take the news?"
"He's in shock. So am I really. We thought we lost one son only to find out we actually lost the other. It's crazy. I can't wrap my mind around it."
"Mom, I'm sorry…"
"You should call your father," she tells me, completely blowing past my apology, "Not tonight. It's almost one o'clock in the morning." She pauses to direct a meaningful glance at Jane before she continues, "But you should call him first thing tomorrow. He wants to hear from you."
"Okay. I will."
"Good," she sighs, "I'm going to go to bed. I'm exhausted. I've got an entire day of funeral arrangements ahead of me tomorrow and I want to be as well rested as I can be."
"I can help you with that," I offer gently, "Whatever you need."
"I don't know what we're going to do. Your father is still trying to decide if we should bury his remains or…or cremate him. I don't even know." She presses her fist into her mouth to dam the sobs that threaten. "You'd think I'd have some context about this since I've done it once before."
At that point, I step forward to embrace her. "I am so sorry, Mom."
She shrugs away from me to fix me with a stern frown. "For God's sake, would you please stop apologizing, Michael?" she admonishes me, "I don't blame you. Do you understand me? I don't blame you. I blame the criminal responsible for tearing our family apart! That's the whole reason I don't want you going back to the force. I don't want you mixed up in that business anymore."
My intention of comforting her is thwarted when, from behind me, Jane blurts out, "I'm sorry. What did you just say?" Belatedly, I realize what has just happened and I immediately turn around to soothe her senses but I can tell by her facial expression that it's much too late for that. I suppress a groan of resignation as she explodes, "Did I hear her right? You're going back to the force?"
"I'm thinking about it," I admit with great reluctance.
Jane's reaction is much like my mother's had been. "Are you crazy?"
"That's exactly what I said," Mom interjects.
"Michael, why would you want to do that?" Jane cries in disbelief, "And after everything we've been through! We lost five years of our lives!"
"That was because of Sin Rostro."
"Because you were a cop, Michael, and she targeted you for that!"
"Yes, because that was my job. To catch criminals like her and to see that they faced justice. It's what I know how to do and I love doing it."
"You barely remember how!"
"It's coming back to me just like everything else."
"There are a million other professions! Pick one!" she pleads a little desperately, "You passed the LSAT! You can still go to law school!"
"I don't want to go to law school, Jane."
"You used to! Maybe you could try it and see how you feel."
"I don't have a calling for law school. That's not where my heart is. I'm an investigator. I'm a police officer. That's how I feel. That's what I want."
"No! Absolutely not! I don't agree with it!"
Before I can say anything in response to that, Mom is already inserting her own two cents. "Well, it hardly has anything to do with you, does it, Jane?" she considers in a superior tone. She has no way of knowing that my relationship with Jane has changed drastically in the last hour. Then again, knowing my mother, even if she were aware she wouldn't give a damn.
I suspect that Jane is aware of the same thing which accounts for her insulted reaction to Mom's statement. "I…I beg your pardon? With all due respect, Mrs. Cordero, I care about Michael as much as you do! I don't want to see him hurt again!"
"But you're not his wife anymore, Jane. You're barely even his friend. You don't get a say in this."
"Mom, please don't…"
"Don't you dare defend her to me!" she snaps, "I'm not blind, Michael! I know what's going on here and I don't approve of it!"
"Will you just let me-,"
"No! I don't want to hear it! She's the reason this whole thing happened to our family in the first place!"
"What?" Jane and I incredulously exclaim at the same time before I demand on my own, "How is any of this her fault?"
"The only reason you became so obsessed with finding that Sin Rostro character in the first place was because of Jane! She brought that criminal into our lives! Her and precious baby daddy!"
"That's enough, Mom," I warn her tautly, "Jane drove all the way out here tonight to support me, to support you. Don't disrespect her like this. Please."
She shakes her head at me, as if she's saddened and disappointed by my request. "I don't understand why you keep letting her do this to you, Michael. I really wish you could let her go."
"Maybe it's best if I leave now," Jane interjects as my mother and I silently face off in mutual glares of aggravation, "Your mom is right, Michael," she adds quickly before I can argue, "It's been a long, sad day and everyone is on edge. I don't want to cause any more stress so I'm just gonna head home. My condolences again, Mrs. Cordero."
She's already out the door before I can say a word in protest. I'm waylaid from my intention to follow her by my mother, who seems to think chasing after her will be the biggest mistake of my life. After I make it clear to her that I don't want to waste any more time locked in a fruitless argument with her, I'm out the door.
Jane has reached the curb by the time I run out of the house to catch up with her. Thankfully, she stops short of opening her car door when she hears me calling her name. She glances up just as I reach the end of the walk. It takes me a few seconds to catch my breath before I can speak but, when I do, I say the first words that spring from my heart.
"I don't want you to go just yet."
Jane favors me with a sad smile over the hood of her car. "Your mother feels differently."
"I'm sorry about that," I tell her lamely, "About her, about what she said in there. It wasn't fair to you."
"Don't apologize. She…she has a right to feel how she does. She's been through a lot lately."
"So have you," I point out softly.
"Yeah, well I haven't lost a child. I can't imagine who I would become if Mateo died. Your mom is doing the best she can right now so…cut her some slack, okay?"
Her ability to sympathize with others even when they've done her wrong is admirable and makes me love her even more than I already do. "I guess you have a point," I sigh plaintively.
"Of course I do. I'm always right."
My answering smile is short-lived. "So I guess things didn't get better between the two of you after I 'died,' huh?"
"Well…our relationship improved a little and then…" She gives up the explanation with a lamenting sigh. "No, not so much."
We exchange an ironic bit of laughter at that, which helps to relieve the lingering tension from the recent confrontation with my mother. She is so beautiful standing there dappled in the moonlight that I can't look away from her. As we stand there smiling at each other as if no one else in the world exists, it feels natural to, once again, speak the words that are foremost in my heart.
"Do you think I could come over there and kiss you goodbye?"
"I would love for you to come over here and kiss me goodbye."
I don't waste any time closing the distance between us to pull her against me and eagerly press my lips to hers. We kiss for a long time, breathless and lingering, almost as if we're afraid it's going to be the last time. When it's over we remain in each other's arms, still nibbling and nuzzling, foreheads touching, hearts beating in sync. I would gladly freeze the moment in time if I could.
"I really wish your mom didn't hate me," Jane sighs despondently.
"My mother doesn't hate you. She strongly dislikes you."
Jane swallows a snort of laughter. "That's not much better."
I lightly kiss the tip of her nose. "Well, would it help to know that I like you?" I tease only to sober an instant later when I add, "Actually, I really love you, Jane." She gasps and rears back from me with a stunned expression. "What?"
"It's just…this is the first time you've said it to me since you came back," she breathes, "I mean, I already knew that's how you felt but…it's still nice to hear the words."
"I love you, Jane," I say again. I'm surprised to discover that voicing those three little words aloud has lifted a heavy burden from my heart. Now I can't stop. "I love you. I love you so much."
"I love you too." She presses a quick kiss to my lips. "God, I love you!" She punctuates that statement with yet another kiss before she sighs, "But I think we definitely need to talk."
"I know that."
"And I don't want you to become a cop again."
"I know that too."
"And we need to figure out where we're going to go from here and what we want our future to be." I can't help it. I slip my fingers into the tousled hair at her temples and frame her face for yet another searching kiss. She's laughing when we finally come up for air. "Why did you do that?"
"I just remembered how alike we are sometimes and how much you like to make plans. I used to think your need to organize everything into lists was kind of sexy. If I'm honest…I still think it's sexy."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you should know that I'm also very good at being spontaneous now too."
I can't help but think about what happened between us earlier. "Oh, I'm well aware," I reply wryly, which causes her to dissolve into a fit of laughter, "God, I've missed that too."
"What?"
"Your laugh."
"No one makes me laugh like you do, Michael."
It feels almost like a biological imperative that I kiss her again but when I make the attempt she ducks her head. When I react with a confused frown of disappointment she jerks her head toward the house. That's when I notice my mother in the window, glaring daggers at us both as she peeks through the curtains. At least she has the decency to withdraw when she realizes we've seen her.
"She's been watching us for the last five minutes," Jane says, "You should probably get back inside before her head explodes."
Defiantly, I drop an affectionate kiss to her nose before I release her. "I'll talk to her. She's going to have to get used to you being in my life because that's not going to change."
"No, don't do that," Jane urges, surprising me with her response. "She has enough to deal with right now. She doesn't need you shoving me down her throat. In fact, we should probably slow things down between us, at least until after Billy's memorial service."
Her words send me unexpectedly crashing back down to earth. "Are you serious?"
"It'll be temporary. I'm just thinking about what you said…that us being together was going to affect other people. We need to be mindful of that."
And by "other people" I can only assume she means Rafael Solano and the thought really aggravates me because it only intensifies the vengeful feelings I have towards him. I'm getting a little sick of everything I want in my life having to be put through the Rafael Solano filter. Of course, I don't say that any of that out loud. It's well past one o'clock in the morning and I don't want to get into an argument with her or deal with any heavy discussion when she's facing more than a two hour drive home.
So, instead of calling her out on my suspicions, I reply, "Yeah. You're right. We should probably cool it for now."
"I'm not breaking up with you, Michael. Don't take it like that."
"I'm not," I deny even if I am sort of taking it like that. "Go on. Get out of here. You'll be dragging tomorrow as it is."
She slips back into my arms for another languid kiss. "I love you. I'll call you when I get home."
I stand on the sidewalk and wave her off as she drives away, somehow feeling more uncertain now than I had before she'd arrived.
