A/N - Just a friendly reminder to all my readers that this story is based on a telenovela. The course of true love never runs smooth, so get ready.

Chapter Seventeen (Michael POV)

I solemnly contemplate my cleanly shaven reflection in the mirror as I straighten the knot in my tie.

My brother's memorial service is set to take place in less than an hour and several times this morning I've found myself smiling through my sorrow whenever I think of Jane. And each time that wave of happiness passes over me, it is immediately followed by shame. I'm overwhelmed by an odd mix of guilt and elation, swinging madly from one emotion to the other and then back again. Love and loss are so closely intertwined for me at the present time that I don't really know what I feel or how to define it. What I do know is that I have been looking forward to seeing Jane's beautiful, smiling face all day and it is the one thing that has kept me going these last two days.

We haven't had very much time to talk. I've been so preoccupied with helping my parents with the arrangements for Billy's service that's it has been nearly impossible to spend a moment together, much less have a real conversation. When I haven't been busy with funeral preparations I've been at the police station, working closely with law enforcement to build a case against Rose Solano for my brother's murder. The remainder of my time has been spent in therapy sessions with Dr. Beavers, hoping to make sense of the increasingly vivid nightmares I've been having lately.

The more I begin to recall about my past, the greater my resentment towards Rafael Solano becomes, the more my idle subconscious seems to dwell on hurting him, sometimes even killing him. I've dreamed about it more than once. Dr. Beavers remains adamant these growing inclinations are merely a latent reaction to my increasing awareness of just how much Rafael Solano has intruded on my life but it feels like so much more than that. At times, the rage churning inside of me doesn't even feel like me at all but rather something altogether foreign, like something insidious growing inside of me.

That's not to say that the guy doesn't bug me. He does, particularly the sense of entitlement he seems to have when it comes to Jane. More than once he has made it clear to me that I am intruding on his family and not the other way around. In his eyes, I'm insignificant, expendable. I don't even belong in Jane or Mateo's lives at all. That does very little to stir up in me feelings of respect for the guy. But before the past started becoming clearer to me, I could at least tolerate him. Now, I continually have to suppress the urge to punch him in the face whenever we're in the same room.

I haven't talked to Jane about what I'm feeling either, partly because I haven't had much opportunity but mostly because the idea of revealing my darkest, most secret thoughts to her makes me uncomfortable. I can't deny that I'm afraid of how she will react. For Jane, Mateo is her highest priority and he should be. Like it or not, Rafael is Mateo's father, he and Jane have history and he will always be in their lives. I don't doubt that Jane would have some reservations about us being together if she knew I was harboring such virulent, insidious hatred for Rafael. She wouldn't want that around Mateo and I get why she wouldn't but I also don't want to lose her.

So, the only option I have is to get my emotions under control as soon as possible. I've increased my sessions with Dr. Beavers from once a week to twice weekly, sometimes three times if I think I need it. I cannot, I will not let my loathing for Rafael Solano get the best of me. I know that I've done that once before and it cost me everything I had. I won't make the same mistake a second time.

In the meantime, I'm trying to keep focused on the things for which I am thankful, the two foremost being Jane and Mateo. I want us to be the family we should have been five years ago. I want to make up for all the time we've lost. I'm working very hard to be patient on that front too, because Jane and I agreed to keep quiet about our relationship status until after Billy's memorial service had passed and emotions have settled down. It's not the most ideal situation but I was fully anticipating the delay given our complicated history.

Honestly, I'm okay with waiting because I know what our endgame will be. As soon as we make our relationship public, I'm going to ask Jane to marry me…again. It's almost a formality at this point because, in my heart, she and I are already married. Being together is the easiest part of this whole situation. Navigating the hurt feelings, disappointment and resentment that will follow after we come out as a couple will be the tricky part. But I know Jane and I will get through it. After all, we've survived worse.

"Are you ready to go?" I glance around in surprise to find my mother leaning in the threshold of my bedroom door. After I grab my jacket and shrug into it, motherly instinct compels her to step forward to straighten my tie. "We should get going. The service starts in 45 minutes."

I lightly swat her away to reach for my wallet and car keys on the dresser. "Actually, I was thinking maybe we should drive separately today."

Recently, I decided to lease a car so that I could get back and forth between Fort Myers and Miami. The lack of freedom to go where I wanted when I wanted had been driving me nuts. I had been helpless and lost for long enough and I didn't want to depend on anyone else for anything if I could help it. Having a car had granted me a certain measure of freedom and I was choosing the exercise that freedom now.

Mom, however, is quite unhappy with the suggestion that we take separate cars and immediately calls me out on being petty. "Is this because of what I said about Jane last night?" she demands in a huff, "I would think you could appreciate my honesty, Michael! I didn't say I hated her. I said you're making a mistake by being with her again and you are."

"But you're not being honest," I retort angrily, "You're being unfair! You won't even give her a chance! Instead, you're still blaming her for mistakes she made in the past."

"I have given her a chance. She broke your engagement and devastated you. And then I gave her another chance and…you died! And then I gave her one more chance and she went right back to Rafael Solano! I'm afraid I'm all out of chances now."

"What happened to me isn't Jane's fault! You have to stop punishing her for moving on."

"That's not how I see it."

"And that's exactly the reason we shouldn't ride together because I can't listen to you badmouth her anymore."

"Really, Michael? You're going to pull this, today of all days?"

"That's why I'm suggesting it. I don't want to fight with you, Mom. I know you're hurting. I don't want to make it worse."

"You avoiding me will make it worse," she insists quietly, "Listen, why don't we just table all the Jane discussion for now? We won't talk about her at all."

"She's going to be at the service, Mom," I warn her with some reluctance.

For a second, I think she's going to explode and I brace myself for it. But instead, she absorbs the news with nothing more than a deep, cleansing breath. "That's fine," she says and I can tell it pains her greatly to do it, "At least she'll be there to support you."

There is quite a turnout of support for Billy's memorial service. Unfortunately, I know that the large number of people isn't due out of respect for my brother. He had made more enemies than friends during his brief time on earth. However, it is testimony to just how much love and support my parents and even I have garnered over the years. We have a bevy of family members, dear friends and coworkers who show up to offer their condolences. But the entire time I'm hugging people and shaking hands and murmuring polite "thank yous", I am scanning the crowd for Jane.

I spot her and her mother just as they come walking in through the double doors of the church. An incredible sensation of warmth and happiness fills my chest at the mere sight of her. It almost feels like my heart is glowing. That's the only way I can describe it. Jane Villanueva makes my heart glow.

Both she and Xiomara are dressed appropriately in black like most of the mourners present but it is clear from the expressions on their faces as they look about that they feel out of place. I start to excuse myself from the group I'm standing with to rescue them from their discomfort when I see Rafael Solano step inside behind them. And just like that…that warm glow I was feeling dissipates and is replaced with gnawing aggravation and something else, something sinister that eats away at my gut. Something I don't want to acknowledge.

Almost mechanically, I locate my mother to inform of her Jane's arrival and together we head towards the entrance to greet her and her companions. Jane catches sight of me just as Mom and I make our approach. She offers me a shy smile. I offer her one back. For a second, it's easy to shut out everyone else around us, that is until my mother speaks.

"Jane," she greets and she almost spits her name out like a curse, "Thank you so much for coming."

I watch as my girlfriend and my mother exchange strained smiles. Jane appears at a loss as to what she should do. After darting an uncertain glance over at me, she starts to reach out to embrace my mother only to think better of it at the last second when my mother cringes in reaction. Finally, after a beat of awkward silence, she says, "Thank you for letting me be here. I want to support you and Michael however I can." She then gestures behind her to Xiomara and Rafael, obviously desperate to take the attention off of herself. "Of course you remember my mother and Rafael."

"Yes. I remember them from the wedding."

Both Rafael and Xiomara take that opportunity to mumble their own condolences but it is the moment when Rafael addresses me directly that makes me grind my teeth. "Listen, Michael, I didn't know about your brother the other night when we talked," he says, "I'm sorry for your loss. I wouldn't have been so hard on you otherwise."

"Thanks," I reply in a tone that is anything but grateful.

Jane is quick to wedge herself between us with a bright, artificial smile. "And we can finally put all of that behind us, right?"

Much to her disappointment, I'm sure, Rafael and I don't relax our death glares at each other one iota.

"The service is going to start soon," Mom interjects a little desperately, as if she senses the rising hostility between Rafael and me and is seeking to diffuse it, "Maybe we should think about finding our seats."

She surprises me when she directs Jane and her party towards the front of the church and says that they can be seated on the pew directly behind my family. I'm in the midst of trying to puzzle out her motives for doing that when I start down the aisle towards my seat. Jane falls into step beside me with Rafael and Xo trailing close behind us.

"You okay?" she whispers.

It's a loaded question that evokes a myriad of emotions within me but I respond with a casual shrug. "I'm as well as can be expected, I guess."

"Since it seems like your mom is in a generous mood, do you think it would be okay if I sat with you and your family?

"Are you sure Xo won't mind?" I asked with feigned indifference, "Or Rafael?"

But evidently my tone isn't as nonchalant as I'd hoped because Jane appraises me with a concerned sideways glance. "Does it bother you that he came with me today, Michael?" she asks in a furtive under-breath.

"I don't understand why he had to come at all," I reply discretely just as we reach my designated aisle, "I guess I wonder what that means."

Having said the final word on that, I scoot down into my seat of the pew, thinking that will be the end of it. It's not. Jane slides down into the empty space next to me. The moment she does both of my parents lean forward to survey me with questioning glances after they have taken their own seats but I deliberately ignore their stares.

"You're making a scene," I chastise Jane through clenched teeth.

"Well, you're being petulant," she retorts through clenched teeth as well, "I didn't ask him to come, you know! He volunteered."

"You couldn't have told him 'no?'" I hiss.

"He's here to offer his support. That's all. He really felt bad about going off on you the other night."

"Sure he did."

"Raf isn't a bad guy, Michael. I think the two of you could be friends if you tried."

The suggestion is so ludicrous that I actually snort with laughter which, unfortunately, draws several curious stares our way. Self-consciously I wait for the attention to die down before I speak again. "Rafael and I are not going to be friends," I tell her tautly, "And my brother's funeral isn't the place to discuss it!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

We're prevented from any further bickering when the service begins. Mom, Dad and I each take our turns speaking for Billy. We reminisce on the good times we shared as a family, before Dad's affair, before the divorce, before Billy's drug abuse and life of petty crime. It's only as I'm speaking that I recognize that all of those good memories are from long, long ago, when I was barely out of my teens and Billy was still in elementary school. The realization saddens me. The happy memories beyond that point don't even exist.

By the time I return to my seat I am overcome with regret. Regret for the time I lost with my brother, for all the missed opportunities to repair our relationship. Regret for my parents because they will never have another chance to tell Billy how much they loved him. And regret for my earlier crankiness with Jane, that I could even be irritated with her at all when she had come here today to be my anchor. Those few moments when I had been recounting a happy childhood and family life that was gone too soon were a stark reminder of the precious relationship I have with Jane and Mateo.

They are my family now. I don't want to take them for granted the way my father had taken us for granted. I don't want to repeat his mistakes. But, sometimes I wonder how it had all started, how had developed a lack of appreciation for the life he had? Had he found my mother lacking in some way? Had he forgotten all the reasons he had fallen in love with her in the first place? Did he suddenly wake up one morning and realize being a husband and father was not for him? I can't let that happen to me too. I can't live his life. I won't let myself forget what Jane means to me and why.

And with that resolve, I can feel my irritation with her fade away. In the grand scheme of things, Rafael being there wasn't important. So what if he came with her today! So what if they were friends and always would be! I am the one who will be privileged enough to spend the rest of my life with her and I need to remember that. I need to cherish what I have.

Though I can feel the tension radiating off of her body as the service continues, a sure sign that's she's irritated with me, I reach down between us to feel for her hand. At the first sensation of my fingers brushing against palm, Jane stiffens in reaction. Her eyes remain fixed ahead. Her mouth is set in a tight, grim line. But what I especially notice is that she doesn't pull away from me. When I lace my fingers with hers she actually relaxes instead. I feel her give my hand a light squeeze and though she doesn't turn her head to look at me then I can see the glimmering of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. We sit there, discretely holding hands, for the remainder of Billy's service.

After the "amen" is said and I'm forced to release Jane's hand, I stand with my parents to greet the crowd of mourners waste no time ling up at my family's pew to offer their condolences and voice their concern regarding the "bizarre" circumstances of Billy's death. They surround me and my parents as we make our way out into the aisle and, in the sea of people, I lose track of Jane in the shuffle and my parents as well. I'm trying to divide my attention between acknowledging various commiserations and looking for Jane when I feel someone tug at my elbow. I glance around to find her standing right next to me.

I favor her with a relieved smile. "Hi. I thought I'd lost you for a moment."

"Never," she vows, her dark eyes shining, "Do you think I could borrow you for five minutes?"

Following her request, I politely excuse myself from the small circle of friends surrounding me and dutifully follow Jane back into the small corridor that leads off to the bathrooms. Once we reach our destination, she pulls me over into a corner where we will be shielded from the view of anyone who might go walking past. We can still hear the conversation drifting from the main part of the church but, for the most part, we are hidden away from any possible spectators. I doubt that Jane has brought me here by accident.

"I can't make out with you at my brother's funeral," I tell her, straight-faced.

Jane smacks my shoulder in mock affront. "Ew! That's not why I brought you back here, Michael!"

"Then why?"

Her expression softens with love and concern. "Are you okay?"

"You mean about the funeral or about Rafael being here?"

"Both, I guess."

"The funeral is what it is," I tell her in a rather dispassionate tone, "My brother is dead but, in a lot of ways, that's been true for years anyway and now we have to come to terms with it. The one good thing that came out of this whole ordeal is that my parents finally have some closure. He's at peace now and so are they."

"And what about you? Are you at peace?"

"I'll be at peace when Sin Rostro is charged with Billy's murder and spends the rest of her natural life rotting in a jail cell for it."

"Michael…"

"I'm not saying I'll be the one to do it," I interject quickly because I suspect she's about to go on an "all the reasons you shouldn't be on the police force" rant, "But I do want to see that justice is done. That's all."

"Maybe I could go visit Rose in prison, try to get her to con-,"

"—Not happening," I burst out before she can finish that statement, "I can handle Rose. I will handle her. I want you as far away from this as possible."

"That's impossible. Rose is Rafael's stepmother and Rafael is Mateo's father. I'm involved in this whether you want me to be or not," she argues, "Let me help you."

I shake my head regardless of how persuasive I find her offer. "No. Not this way."

She nibbles her lower lip pensively, as if she's trying to decide if she wants to acquiesce or not. Finally, she sighs in defeat and says, "Okay. If you won't let me help you with Sin Rostro, at least let me put your mind at ease about Rafael."

"Jane, I don't want to talk about Rafael."

"But we should. He's the elephant in the room and we've been avoiding him for days."

"That's one way to put it," I mumble.

"Are you still angry with me?"

I balk at the very suggestion. "You mean because of Rafael? No. Of course not."

"Michael, if I had known that his being here would upset you so much, I would have asked him not to come," she insists ardently, "It just seemed easier to tell him 'yes' when he asked because I didn't want him to question me about it if I had said 'no.'"

"It's fine," I reassure her sincerely, "I was annoyed at first but now I'm over it. I guess I was a little disappointed, that's all. I've been looking forward to seeing you for the past two days and when I saw him too…it was kind of a letdown."

"So does that mean you're not happy to see me after all?"

I'm unable to resist the sweet, pouty face she makes at me and I'm compelled pull her closer so that I can kiss her. She melts into my body, parting her lips for the gentle stroke of my tongue. I kiss her with every ounce of passion that's been welling inside of me for two days. When I finally pull away from her, we are both a little breathless and glassy eyed.

"I thought you said you didn't want to make out with me at your brother's funeral," she teases me in wry reminder.

"There are exceptions to every rule, Jane. And, for the record, I am very happy to see you. The last two days have felt like two decades. I've missed you so much."

That earns me yet another kiss, this time initiated by her. "I've missed you too."

"Maybe I could take you out to dinner tonight. Are you interested?"

She blinks at me in surprise. "You mean like a date?"

"No. Not like a date at all. I mean an actual, for real, dinner and a movie date. I, Michael Cordero, am asking you, Jane Villanueva, to go out with me."

"Yes," she replies without reserve.

"Yes?"

"Absolutely yes."

"But you don't even know where we're going," I tease.

"Doesn't matter where we're going. You're going to be there so I know wherever it is has to be perfect." I smile at her gushy response, feeling rather gushy myself, and frame her face for yet another kiss.

"There you two are!" Jane and I quickly scramble apart in a guilty blur of deep blushing and self-conscious sputters. Though we make quite an effort to appear unruffled, Xiomara regards us both with a knowing expression. "For the record, this isn't what I would call being discreet. You're practically dry humping each other right here in the hallway."

I drop my head forward in sheer mortification while Jane moans out an embarrassed, "Ma!"

"I'm just saying, what if it had been Rafael who walked in on you instead of me? You guys are making out right in front of the bathrooms!" The mere mention of his name, not the mention the suggestion that we should take care with his feelings, has my aggravation stirring anew.

"We weren't making out," Jane denies in a sullen mumble which earns her a dubious grunt from Xiomara, "We were talking with our faces very close!"

Xiomara remains unconvinced though she indulges Jane with a succinct, "Sure you were."

"Is there something you needed?" Jane demands.

"Everyone is starting to leave," she says before turning to address me directly, "Your parents are looking for you so you might want to get out there."

"That's right," I groan in consternation, "We're supposed to be heading over to the cemetery together for the burial." By mutual agreement, my parents and I had decided that we would make Billy's final interment a private occasion for family only and then meet our guests back at my mother's house for refreshments afterwards. I turn to address Jane, acutely aware of the dwindling time we have to spend together.

"Will you be there this afternoon?" I ask her.

"Do you want me to be there, Michael?"

"Of course, I do."

"Well, I rode here with my mom and Raf so…" She glances over at Xiomara in a silent request for permission.

"It's fine with me," Xiomara replies, "But I'm not your problem."

"You can just drop me off at the Corderos then and you and Raf can take the car back to Miami," Jane suggests as a solution, "That way he can relieve Abuela of babysitting duties so she can spend some time with Jorge." She glances at me for unspoken confirmation before she adds with complete confidence, "Michael can bring me home later."

After finalizing those plans, I drop another quick kiss to Jane's mouth (because what's the point in keeping up pretenses in front of Xiomara) and then rush to catch up with my parents. Of course, the instant they have me alone they both begin grilling me about where I disappeared to and what was happening between me and Jane. But because I'm well aware of their misgivings about Jane, I gently shut them down and offer them nothing beyond acknowledging that Jane offered her condolences.

It's not that I'm ashamed of my growing relationship with Jane. I'd gladly shout it from the rooftops if I could. But, in this instance, I know my happiness will be tempered by what I anticipate will be my parents' lukewarm response. Though my mother has been the more vocal of the two, they have both made it quite evident that they think getting back together with Jane again is a mistake for me.

The reasons are endless but the bottom line never changes. They are both afraid of me being hurt. I know that nothing other than time will ever convince them otherwise. So, I won't defend my love for Jane to them. In the long run actions will speak louder than words and our happiness together will serve as testimony that my parents were wrong.

Billy's burial then is an understandably tense affair. There is not much conversation between us as we watch the casket be lowered into its freshly dug grave. My dad holds my mother while she cries and I marvel over the fact that it's the first time I've seen them touch in almost two decades. It's ironic, I think, because Billy spent years after their divorce doing everything he could think of to get them to reconcile. In an odd sort of way, he accomplished his goal after all.

By the time we're all on our way back to Mom's, me and Mom riding together, and Dad following behind us, the atmosphere feels gloomy. Understandable given we all just attended a funeral but, considering my strained relationship with Billy, I was not at all prepared for how desolate I feel right now. I'm sure my expression must reflect that because my mom favors me with a bittersweet smile.

"It's going to be okay. At least he's not suffering anymore," she tells me gruffly, "That's a good thing."

I stare down at my hands with a mournful sigh, building the courage to voice the question that's been plaguing me ever since we found out that Billy was dead. "Do you wish that it had been me instead of him?"

"Michael! How could you even think such a thing?"

"You made peace with my death, not with Billy's," I reason thickly, "and now you're grieving all over again and I'm the one who's making you crazy."

"First of all, I never stopped grieving for you. Second, this isn't an either or situation, Michael. If I had a choice in the matter, I wouldn't lose either of my sons…but I don't have a choice."

"That's not what I'm asking you, Mom."

"If you're asking me if I'm sorry you came back, the answer is no, sweetheart. I'll never be sorry."

By the time we reach home, I'm in a much better mood than when I began this morning and I am eagerly looking forward to seeing Jane again. However, when I step inside and discover that Rafael is still there some of my excitement wanes a little. I express my disappointment to Jane as she helps me prepare refreshments in the kitchen.

With a sullen scowl, I arrange drinks for the guests on a serving tray. "I thought he was going home."

"So did I," she says, sounding as disappointed as I feel, "But when he found out I wanted to stay he said he didn't mind staying as well."

"What about Mateo?"

"I called Abuela. She's fine with watching Mateo for the evening."

"How's Mateo handling it?"

"Um…he actually thinks Raf and I are on a date," she confesses with some hesitancy. I maintain laser focus on my task because I know if I look at her she's going to know exactly what I'm thinking right then. "He's still hung up on the idea of us being together," she remarks, more to herself than to me, "We need to tell him soon."

Despite my earlier resolve, I glance up at her in surprise. The drinks are instantly forgotten. "I…I thought you wanted to wait."

"I changed my mind," she replies with an offhand shrug, "I think the sooner we tell him…the sooner we tell them both, the better it will be for everyone."

I'm almost afraid to even take a breath because I'm half convinced that I couldn't have heard her correctly. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

I am struggling to temper my elation and resist the urge to yank her into my arms and kiss her senseless when my father suddenly pokes his head into the kitchen. "Mikey, you got someone here to see you."

After trading curious frowns with Jane, I dutifully follow my father from the kitchen. When we reach the living room and I see who is waiting for me, I stop in my tracks. And I immediately smile.

Lorena stands with my mother, the two of them chatting like they are the oldest of friends. She is wearing a dark blue dress with a black blazer in acknowledgement of the somber occasion but her face is wreathed with a happy smile. Her dark hair is swept back from her face and twirled into a neat bun at the crown of her head so I have an unobstructed view of her profile as she laughs with my mother.

Though it has been less than a week since I last saw her it almost feels like a lifetime has passed since then because so much has changed. What hasn't changed, however, is how much I love and appreciate her and how much I've come to miss her this past week. The fact that she would take a leave of absence from work to fly to Miami just to support me exemplifies perfectly the kind of person she is.

She is loyal to a fault. My dearest friend. My closest ally and confidante. Literally my hero.

I can't even put into words how happy I am to see her.