Chapter Sixteen (Jane POV)
I tiptoe into the house at half past four o'clock to find a surprise waiting for me. After I click on the nearest lamp, I have to suppress my reflexive squeal of fright when light floods the room and I discover my mother sitting there on the couch waiting for me. The shock of it sends me careening back into the door. I press my hand against my rapidly thumping heart as I regain my bearings.
"My God, you scared the hell out of me! Why were you lurking in the dark like that?"
Earlier that evening, Rafael had wasted no time calling Mom to complain after I'd stormed out of the house. She had called me at least half a dozen times while I was on my way to Fort Myers. Although I had dutifully texted to assure her that I had arrived safely and would call her back as soon as I was able, she still ended up calling an additional half dozen times anyway. It wasn't until I was on my way home that I learned that Mom decided to stay at the house with Rafael and Mateo to await my return since Abuela had gone on a date with her green card husband Jorge. But, by now, I know that Abuela must be home so I have no idea why Mom is still here and I tell her so.
She fixes me with an irritated frown. "I have a better question. Where have you been? It's almost five o'clock in the morning, Jane! You said you'd be here thirty minutes ago!"
"I was here," I tell her, kicking off my shoes before moving to flop down on the couch, "I've been out in the car talking to Michael this whole time." Before Mom can begin to grill me about the details of our conversation and I can tell that she wants to the instant I mention Michael's name, I ask, "Where's Rafael?" A quick inspection of the living room and kitchen doesn't reveal any sign of him. I can't say that I'm disappointed or surprised by his absence. Right now, I'm too angry with him for civil conversation. "Did he leave?"
"Yeah. Hours ago. He wanted to take Mateo home with him when he left but I managed to change his mind which wasn't easy," she recounts, "He's pretty pissed off at you, you know."
I roll my eyes with blatant disregard. "Well, the feeling is very mutual right now."
"Why? What happened? Rafael said you took off after Michael tonight."
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to go on a foul mouthed rant. Of course, Rafael would make himself seem like the victim in this whole scenario. No mention at all of how he had harassed and insulted Michael or disrespected me. No, it's always big, bad Jane who hurt his feelings again by running after Michael. On some subconscious level, I know I'm probably being unfair to him but, as of this moment, I'm too infuriated to be magnanimous. I'm aggravated further because he had the nerve to misrepresent the situation to my mother. I'm surprised steam isn't pouring from my ears. I actually have to mentally recite my C.A.L.M. acronym before I can answer Mom and, even then, my words still have bite.
"Is that what he told you? That I just ran out of here for no reason?"
"Actually, he didn't say much about what happened at all other than you left to be with Michael. He seemed really angry…and hurt. I got the impression that he didn't want to talk so I didn't push him." Mom pins me with a narrowed, warning glare. "But don't you dare tell me you don't want to talk about it either! I don't get it! I thought you guys were getting along again."
"As long as he can pretend Michael doesn't exist, we get along just fine," I reply tartly, "It's too bad for him that I can't do that."
"Okay, that's it. You have to tell me exactly what happened."
Part of me doesn't want to talk about it but not for the reason she might think. I'm still basking in the afterglow of the time I spent with Michael tonight and I'm not quite ready to divulge that to anyone. For the first time since he came back, everything feels right between us. The quiet intimacy we shared is too precious and private to discuss in casual conversation. I want to keep it to myself just a little longer. However, I know my mother. She will not stop badgering me until she has answers and so I decide to tell her at least part of the story.
"Okay, so you know about the body that was made to look like Michael, the one that we buried when we thought he was dead?"
Understandably, Mom scowls at this opening because she can't understand what it has to do with our current discussion. "Jane, this is morbid. Why are we talking about a dead body right now?"
"I'll get to that in a second," I assure her, "Do you remember what I told you about it?"
"Yeah, that there's an investigation going on to figure out who the dead guy was."
"Well, the police have figured it out. They ran DNA on the body and now they know the man's identity."
"And?"
"It was Michael's brother Billy."
"What?" All her exasperation with me evaporates it that moment. "Are they sure it's him?"
"It was a positive identification. Someone killed him, Ma, and then set it up so that we would think that he was Michael."
"Oh my God… Oh my God, that's awful!" She leans over to pull me into a brief, but heartening hug. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. That's terrible news. Michael must be so devastated."
"He is," I confirm softly, "He's actually really conflicted right now because he and Billy didn't have a close relationship at all. You remember that he didn't even come to our wedding. They were always in a fight, always at odds with each other. In a lot of ways, they were more like strangers than brothers."
"You mean kind of like Mom and Cecilia?"
"Yeah. Kind of like that. But Michael still feels so guilty about his death because he thinks that Billy was targeted because of him."
"Is that possible?" Mom wonders aloud.
I jerk a reluctant nod of confirmation. "The more we learn, the more it seems likely that Sin Rostro is behind Michael's kidnapping and everything that happened after that," I tell her, "It was a lot for Michael to digest all at once. He was such a mess tonight. He needed a friend."
"And that's why you left? You wanted to support him."
"I wanted to be there for him, you know? But Rafael completely blew it out of proportion! He actually accused me of abandoning Mateo!"
"Oh no…"
"And it didn't have to be that way! Michael called me first," I recount, "But Rafael answered my phone and then he and Michael got in a huge fight which made Michael not want to tell me what happened. I knew something was wrong. I kept calling him after that but he wouldn't pick up."
"So you decided to drive all the way to Fort Myers in the middle of the night because Michael wouldn't answer his phone?"
There is a thread of scolding in her tone that has me hopping on the defensive. "Well, when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous!"
She doesn't say so out loud but the look she gives me confirms that is exactly what she thinks. Although it's apparent she doesn't understand my motives, thankfully Mom is kind enough not to chastise me or make me feel like an idiot. Instead, she regards me with a strangely speculative expression, as if some sort of realization has suddenly dawned on her.
"What?" I ask, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Obviously Michael wasn't expecting you tonight," she observes with an odd degree of intensity, "What did he do when you showed up on his doorstep unannounced?"
"He was surprised to see me but he was so upset he didn't really give me a hard time about it. I think he was glad I was there because he had someone to talk to."
"And that's all you did tonight? Just talk?"
The suspicion I detect in her words causes me to bristle a bit. Even though she's absolutely right in her assumption, I'm still offended on principle that she would assume that anything intimate had happened between Michael and me given the circumstances. I suppose that's because there's this tiny voice in the back of mind that accuses me of taking advantage of Michael's vulnerability tonight. That voice wonders if he would have even had sex with me at all if he hadn't been grieving for his brother.
When I consider the fact that I know nothing about his trip to Houston or his relationship status with Lorena, I start to second guess myself even more. I know that he loves me and that he enjoys having sex with me but, beyond that, I'm not really sure what's going on in Michael's head. There are at least half a dozen conversations we should have had before falling into bed tonight. But I don't want to think about my lapse in judgment. I don't want to feel guilty about what happened tonight at all. So, I firmly shake off those nagging doubts before I address my mother again.
"Yeah, we talked. He had a lot on his mind."
"Really?"
"Yes! Why are you making a big deal about it?"
"Because your t-shirt is on backwards."
That blunt pronouncement manages to kick down my prickly defenses, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. Horrified, I glance down to discover that my mother's charge is correct and that fact has escaped me for more than two hours now. It was bad enough that I had been forced to go without underwear but at least that I could hide. This was much, much worse.
In my haste to get dressed back at Michael's house, I hadn't even realized I was putting my clothing on backwards. Even Michael hadn't noticed, despite all the crazy kissing we did before I left. I groan aloud in sheer mortification. All I can do is cover my face with my hands and whimper in shame.
"Oh my God!" But my humiliation only worsens when I remember that I actually face-offed with Michael's mother in the same state. "Oh my God…"
"So you had sex with Michael tonight?" Mom surmises in a matter-of-fact tone.
I jerk self-consciously at the question. "I…I…well we…um…what I'm saying is…"
"Did you?"
Honestly, it's like I'm facing the Spanish Inquisition with her. It's two words, one question and I feel like I'm under the heat lamps. The intensity of her stare makes me squirm. Even if I had the wherewithal to lie she would pester the truth out of me.
"Yes. Yes, I slept with him." She utters my name in a longsuffering groan. "I'm not sorry about it," I burst out in defiance, "I love him, Ma. And he loves me. We want to be together."
I'm actually surprised with she accepts that announcement with little more than a weary sigh. "I can't say I didn't see it coming. You two have been getting so close lately that it felt inevitable."
I easily discern what she's left unspoken. "But you don't approve."
"It's not that I don't approve," she sighs, "I love Michael and I've always loved him for you, Jane. But a lot has changed in five years. You're not the same people anymore. You fell in love with someone else and so did he! Rafael is your best friend for goodness sake! That's a huge thing. Are you sure you're not getting caught up in the past with Michael?"
Yet, again those niggling uncertainties rear their ugly heads. But not for myself. I know without reserve that I am in love with Michael for all the right reasons. But Michael? He came to the realization of his feelings for me kicking and screaming. Falling in love with me was not a welcome change for him and I can't help but worry that he might still have doubts. Even tonight, I could sense that there was something weighing heavily on his mind but he seemed reluctant to discuss it with me. At the time, I told myself that his reserve was a result of his grief but now, talking with my mother, I'm not so sure.
"If you have any doubts, Jane," Mom interjects, breaking through my melancholy thoughts, "Now is the time to address them before you and Michael get too deep."
"We're already deep, Mom, and I don't have any doubts."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Michael and I haven't changed as much as you might think," I tell her, "Yes, Rafael is my best friend but so is Michael. Just because I fell in love with someone else that doesn't mean I stopped loving Michael, because I didn't. I never have. And the reasons I loved him then are the same reasons I love him now."
"But how can you know who he is now, Jane?" Mom argues, "He doesn't even know! I'm afraid you might not be thinking this through."
"I know all I need to know. I know that he's smart and intuitive and compassionate and funny and that he loves my son. Mom, he loves Mateo so much! I know that when I'm with him, I feel like a complete person again. I feel like the person I used to be before I lost him."
"Oh, Janie…"
"I'm happy. I want this."
"And what about Rafael? Not even six months ago you wanted all of these things with him."
I duck my head guiltily. "I know."
"And now that's all changed for you?" She snaps her fingers. "Just like that? You're not in love anymore? You don't have any residual feelings for him whatsoever?"
"It wasn't just like that," I deny, "Honestly, my feelings have been changing this whole time. It's been happening gradually ever since I found out about Michael. It wasn't anything Rafael did or didn't do. It was all me. I'm the one who changed, not him."
"You know this is going to hurt him, right?"
"I know that," I acknowledge in a mournful mumble, "I know he's going to be angry and I know that his first instinct will probably be to use Mateo against me."
Mom isn't quite as accepting of that possibility as I am. "That's not fair!" she rages, "I don't care how angry and hurt he is. If he tries that, I will personally kick his ass!"
"Mom, you couldn't fluff a pillow right now, much less kick someone's ass," I deadpan, "And it's fine. As mad as I am at him right now, I understand his motivation. His biggest fear this whole time has been that I'll leave him again for Michael and that's exactly what's going to happen and I hate that. I hate to cause him pain. But it's not fair to give him false hope either."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to tell him and Mateo how I feel about Michael," I vow, only to amend in further explanation, "…as soon as we're past Billy's memorial service. After that, I'll tell them everything."
Mom isn't too keen on that idea. She is already shaking her head before I even finish my sentence. "You shouldn't wait. The sooner you tell Rafael and clear the air, the better," she advises.
"I can't do that. Michael is going to be burying his brother soon. The last thing he needs is to have Rafael in his face."
"Yeah, I know," Mom sighs, "So what now?"
"Well…now I'm going to take a shower because I have to be at work in three hours. Yay me."
Mom reaches over to give my knee a sympathetic pat. "I'll brew a pot of coffee."
To pass the time while the coffee brews, because I know a warm shower at this point will only make me sleepier, I decide to text Michael a good morning message because he's on my mind right now. I don't expect him to answer because we said our final goodnights to each other more than an hour ago and I'm sure he's long since fallen asleep. However, I'm surprised when my phone chimes a message less than a minute later.
Why are you still awake?
I frown at my screen and peck out a quick response. Why are you awake? At least I have an excuse.
What excuse?
I have to be at work in less than three hours, I text back cheekily, What's the point of going to bed now?
He responds with a sad-face emoji followed by: I feel guilty.
Why? I'm the one who made the drive.
You could have stayed the night here.
And risked your mom having a stroke? No, thank you. Besides Mateo would have freaked if he woke up in the morning and I wasn't here.
I wait for his responding text message but I'm surprised when my ring tone chimes instead. I answer the phone quickly but not before my mother favors me with a knowing smile. "Hey," I greet him in a hushed tone so Mom won't overhear me, "Good morning."
"Good morning," he greets softly in return, "I wanted to apologize to you."
"Apologize? For what?"
"Well, I was kind of pissed off at you earlier."
"You were?"
I'm surprised by the admission because he has been nothing less than sweet and affectionate with me. Even when we spoke an hour earlier, he had spent a good portion of that conversation fervently expressing how much he loved and missed me. I would have never suspected he was angry with me at all based on his behavior and I tell him so.
"Well, maybe 'pissed off' is too strong a phrase," he amends, "I was irritated with you."
"Why?" The welcome aroma of coffee begins to permeate the living room and I mouth a request to Mom to bring me a cup.
"Because you wanted to keep our relationship quiet," he says, "I took it personally because I thought it was about Rafael but it's not. It's because of Mateo."
"Of course it is, Michael. Raf and I are done. I told you that."
"And then I saw you out to dinner with him the other night," he reminds me in a mildly accusatory tone.
At that moment, Mom delivers my coffee and I mumble a quick "thank you" before shooing her away. From the corner of my eye I note her lingering nearby as I respond to Michael. "The other night was no big deal. That was just dinner."
"Really? Then why is he naming his hotel after you?"
After nearly spilling my coffee all over myself, I set aside my mug and gape at the phone in disbelief. "Wait a minute. How do you know that?"
"Mateo told me the other night. You were standing right there. Don't you remember?"
The moment he asks the question, I do. I must have subconsciously blocked it from my mind because it had been so horrifying. I sigh with the recollection. "Yeah. He did, didn't he?"
"Besides that, you do realize that he is still taking your phone at night to call me, right?"
I growl in laughing frustration. I have hidden that phone in half a dozen places to keep it out of my son's hot little hands and he still manages to find it every, single time. I think I might have to lock away at this point. "That little klepto!"
"I think Mateo is a detective in the making. You gotta find a better hiding place, babe."
The atmosphere is so lighthearted between us that I can't help but wish it could go on forever but, our laughter is regretfully transitory. All too soon I find myself sobering enough to say, "I still can't believe Mateo told you that."
"Why?" Michael challenges, "Because you weren't going to tell me?"
"Because it's not going to happen. I told Rafael I didn't want him to do that."
"Yeah, because Rafael always does what he's told."
"It doesn't mean anything, Michael," I whisper, "Not to me."
"But it does to Mateo," he utters in a rueful tone, "He's so excited about the idea of you and Rafael being together. I feel bad because I know we're going to hurt him."
"He will get over it. I promise," I reassure him, "He'll be disappointed at first but…he'll come around."
"Is it supposed to make me feel better to know that I'm something Mateo needs to get used to?"
I pause to take a sip of my coffee before responding. "It's going to take some time but once Raf and I explain to Mateo that we can't be a family in the way he wants, he will be more accepting of me and you."
"You think so?"
"I hope so," I sigh in uncertainty, "I guess we have to take it as it comes." He grumbles his grudging agreement to that. "Well, look on the bright side. You will have a much easier time winning over Mateo than I will winning over your mother."
"You do have a point there."
I don't want Patricia Cordero's continued animosity towards me to be a sticking point but it is. It really is. I'm not necessarily consumed by a need to have her like me but I do feel, after everything that's happened with Michael and his miraculous return, we could manage to put our differences aside. After all, I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with her son and giving him a few babies along the way. If that isn't motivation for peace, I don't know what is.
Unfortunately, I don't anticipate that happening any time soon. Right now, Patricia associates me with every bad thing that has happened to Michael in the last five years. Until she can get past that, I'm afraid that she and I aren't going to have anything more than a reluctant, cordial relationship. And while I'm determined not to let that bother me too much, it does make me sad, for Michael's sake and my own.
I put aside my coffee cup once more and shift upright on the couch, taking a breath before I finally ask Michael the question that's been plaguing me for the last hour. "Your mother knows we slept together tonight, doesn't she?"
"Oh yeah…and she is not happy about it."
"My mom knows too by the way…also not happy."
"Should we be concerned about all of this unhappiness?" he wonders in a glum tone.
"In my case, my mom doesn't hate you. She's just worried." I mean to reassure him with the explanation but it doesn't quite work out as I planned. If anything, Michael is agitated further.
"Worried about what? Mateo? Rafael? What's the problem?"
"She thinks we're getting caught up in the past and moving too fast," I confess in a rush of words, "I guess she's worried that our feelings for each other aren't based on the present."
"And what do you think?" he asks me softly.
I detect a note of reservation in his words and I want to banish it right away. "I think," I say with a widening smile of contentment, "that I have everything I could possibly want right now."
