Chapter Twenty-Two (Jane POV)

"Well…that sucks."

I stare down at the two fuzzy, pinkish purple lines on the pregnancy test indicator and I honestly don't know whether to laugh or cry. One line means negative. Two lines mean…well, you get it. Like I said, it sucks. I can practically hear Abuela in my ear whispering that a baby is a gift from God, reminding me of how long I've wanted this very thing. At the same time, however, I can't ignore how ill-timed it is.

This isn't really crushing news for me. I've suspected that I might be pregnant for a week now. I bought the test and then promptly shoved it to the back of my underwear drawer because I didn't have the guts to take it. Today, after six agonizing days of vacillating, I finally worked up the courage and did it. And the results were just as I'd anticipated but, that doesn't make dealing with the reality any easier.

The signs had been obvious for some time. The occasional nausea I would feel at random times of the day, the odd, achy feeling in my breasts, my sudden sensitivity to strong odors. I've also had a few bouts with dizziness but the possibility didn't really, truly hit me until I missed my period. And, even then, I hadn't been too worried because that had been a common occurrence for me for some time now.

My menstruation had been a spotty mess ever since Michael's "death." The constant stress under which I had been living had made my cycle irregular for years. Despite that, I remained on the pill and took it religiously until my life fell apart again with Michael's return. Also, excluding that day with Michael at his mom's house, I haven't had sex in months. What were the chances that I'd actually gotten pregnant from that one encounter, even if it had been unprotected?

Apparently, pretty good.

So, here I am, seated on the toilet, panties around my ankles with a positive pregnancy test in my hand and tears of disbelief filling my eyes. Hoorah. It's strange because for a long time now I've wanted a second child. Ever since Michael and I had that scare before he "died" I've been entertaining the thought of having another baby. My desire to give Mateo a sibling only became stronger when Rafael and I became involved again. But back then, I'd thought that we would have children together. And now…

Now I find myself pregnant with Michael's baby and we're not even on speaking terms.

Nearly everything in my life is unrecognizable to me at the moment. The simmering tension between me and Rafael is finally starting to ebb a little but he still becomes irrationally angry whenever Michael is mentioned. The restraining order he put in place has remained a source of contention between us. I didn't want it at all but Rafael insisted that it was the best option we had to protect our family. At the time, Michael was so insistent on seeing me that he seemed erratic and almost beyond reason so when Rafael suggested it, I initially agreed.

But once the heat of anger and fear had dissipated, I found myself regretting the choice, mostly because in my heart I don't truly believe Michael would hurt me or Mateo. I know that in my gut even if I can't offer any concrete proof to the conviction. Which I'm sure is the reason that trying to convince Rafael of that has proven to be a fruitless effort. The idea that I would want to maintain any type of contact with Michael at all easily sends him into a rage. He questions my sanity, my feelings for him, the value I place on our friendship and even my abilities as a mother if I even bring it up.

And so, for the sake of peace, I've cut off all contact with Michael and I tell myself that it's for the best but, my feelings for him haven't changed. It's a little disconcerting considering what I witnessed when he attacked Rafael but I haven't completely let go of the hope that there is an explanation for his behavior. He had seemed so sincere in that first week after that incident, so full of tearful remorse. I had so wanted to believe him.

But I couldn't ignore what happened to Rafael or how strongly he felt about keeping Michael away. It had been difficult but I did as he asked. I agreed to the restraining order. I rejected Michael's every attempt to see me. I deleted all of his texts and voice mails and eventually blocked his number altogether. I did everything I possibly could to cut him out of my life…and I died a little bit every day with each severed tie.

In the meantime, I've had plenty of people in my corner reassuring me that I had made the right decision. Petra, my mom and even Abuela all seem to believe that I should maintain my distance from Michael and focus on rebuilding my relationship with Rafael. They've all maintained a unified stance. I should reconcile with Rafael for Mateo's sake. According to them, being with Rafael again is the most logical conclusion because we have a child together and we have history. And, most importantly, Rafael still loves me. Don't I owe it to him and myself to try? I wonder if they would change their tunes if they knew that Michael and I were going to have a child together too.

The thought causes reality to settle upon me with renewed intensity. I am pregnant with Michael's baby and I have no idea what the hell I'm going to do next. I have to tell him, of course. He deserves the chance to be a father to his child, the same chance that I gave to Rafael when I found out about Mateo. But the recognition of that fact is much easier than the actual execution. Because telling Michael means that I have to talk to him and talking to him means I have to talk to Rafael and talking to Rafael means… Yeah, I don't even want to think about what it means. Besides that, under the circumstances, I'm not even completely sure if I should go through with the pregnancy.

Certainly a part of me wants to go through with it but I'm not entirely sure that would be the wisest choice. I have to think in the long-term and not simply go with the quickest, most emotional decision. Rafael and Michael do not get along at all. In fact, that's putting it mildly. They despise each other with a virulence that is past all logic and Michael especially has made it ridiculously clear that he wants Rafael dead. That doesn't exactly lend itself to a peaceful co-parenting environment.

Furthermore, Rafael would never accept Michael's presence in our lives. And, as Mateo's father, I know I should consider whether his concerns are valid. Michael did nearly kill him. He had to spend two days in the hospital after their fight. We even had to go so far as to lie to Mateo about his injuries. I completely understand why Rafael wouldn't be interested in giving Michael another chance to prove himself, baby or not.

I can't let myself minimize what happened. Still, I must admit that I've been leaning towards the tendency to do that of late. If I'm completely honest, I've actually been looking for a reason to justify Michael's actions ever since it happened. After all, Rafael did start the fight. He set the whole thing in motion. I've pointed that same fact out to Rafael several times now but somehow he always manages to flip it back around on me and I'm the one who ends up apologizing.

Maybe that's because I know that I'm trying to excuse the inexcusable. But I also can't forget how remorseful Michael seemed when he showed up at the Marbella that day, how he had begged me again and again to talk to him, how he had pleaded with me not to give up on us. That day he hadn't appeared to be a man in love with another woman or a conscienceless, abusive jerk capable of coldblooded murder at all. He seemed instead like a man misunderstood, a man fighting for the woman he loved…fighting for me.

Unfortunately, whenever I've tried to discuss with Rafael that there might have been something more to that day than we think, he shuts me down and accuses me of being blinded by my feelings. Inevitably, my judgment is brought into question. Before long we're arguing about Mateo's safety and whether I'm truly able to put him first and I eventually acquiesce. I always acquiesce because I can't reasonably explain why I still have faith in Michael.

That is partly the reason I've taken such a hard line with Michael and cut him off so completely. What kind of mother would put a man above the well being of her child? I don't want to be that type of mother. I don't want to be selfish. But now there's a pregnancy involved and suddenly I find myself considering Michael's place in my life all over again. I can't pretend he doesn't exist. Doesn't he have a right to know his own child?

Of course, I do have another choice but that's not one I want to consider at all. Abortion. The option flitters through my mind briefly before I discard it. This is the baby that I have always wanted with Michael, the one I wished for daily after he "died." I think about that night we had together, how tenderly he had kissed and touched me, how cherished I felt and I have no doubts. No matter what the state of our relationship is now, our baby had been conceived in love. Unexpected and unplanned definitely, but not unwanted. Even now, when I've only known of its existence for ten minutes, I have love for my baby. I want to protect it.

I want to keep it.

But I'm not ignorant to the complications that will arise if I do. As much as I dread the disappointment that will surely darken my grandmother's face when she learns that I'm about to become an unwed mother…again, it is Rafael's possible reaction that is causing me the most anxiety. He hates Michael so much. What if he transfers that animosity and anger to my child? What if he tries to cause a division between this baby and Mateo? Would he even make it easy for me to co-parent with Michael? And Michael? Would he be willing to amicably share custody with me or would this become a matter for the courts to decide? I don't know the answers and it is the unknown that frightens me the most.

I have to stamp down the desire to call Michael right this second and spill everything but I have no idea how to begin. We haven't spoken to each in a month. And the interactions we have had have consisted of me telling him to leave me alone and threatening to have him arrested. How do I know that he's not over it by now, over me? How do I know that when I call Lorena won't answer his phone?

That prospect scares me more than it should. It's not that I want Michael to be alone and miserable. I want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy after everything he's been through but… Whenever I imagine Lorena holding his hand and reassuring him that she can be all the things that he needs, I feel sick inside and it's not pregnancy induced nausea that does it.

Under the circumstances it makes zero sense for me to be jealous and yet I am. I don't want him to love her. I certainly don't want him to commit to a relationship with her. Because if that happens, if he actually moves on with her then that means that it is really and truly over between us and I don't know if I'm ready to accept that. The entire situation is a confusing mess and so am I.

After what feels like forever, I finally find the wherewithal to rise from the toilet and clean myself up even though I still haven't figured out what I'm going to do. I have just finished carefully stuffing the pregnancy test applicator and the box deep into the trash and I am in the process of washing my hands when the doorbell rings. In no rush, I check to make sure that I've properly disposed of the evidence, because God forbid if Abuela or Mateo find it, and the doorbell chimes three more times in rapid succession as I do.

A little concerned by the urgency my unknown visitor is displaying, I make a dash for the front door. But when I pull it open my anxious curiosity quickly turns to annoyance when I find my father standing on the other side. "What are you doing? Why didn't you just use your key?"

He storms past me into the house with an enraged huff. "I'm so angry that I forgot I had one!"

"Oh," I say, watching with wary eyes as he begins to pace the length of the living room, "Um…Dad? Is this about Esteban and Darci? Because I have to be at the Marbella in an hour and a half so, if you're going to rant, make it a quick one."

"This time it is not Esteban or Darci who has dealt me the crushing blow of betrayal but you, my beloved firstborn daughter, who has shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces!"

"Huh?"

"How could you not tell me that Michael had regained his memory?"

The mere mention of his name out loud gives me a jolt. It's true that I think about him all the time but my family knows better than to mention him to me directly, especially my father. I'm barely able to rein in my irritation with him. "Dad, why are we talking about Michael right now?"

"Because you lied to me!"

"About what? You've known this whole time that his memory was coming back."

He shakes an accusing finger inches from the tip of my nose. "You know exactly what I mean," he hisses, "Michael has been drowning in a cauldron of pain and betrayal this entire time, struggling to come to terms with the heartbreak caused by that deceitful, traitorous Texas viper and you robbed him of unflagging support from his dearest friend! You robbed me!"

I knock his finger aside with an angry scowl. "I have no idea what you're talking about right now and I would appreciate it if you would stop yelling at me!"

"Don't you dare play that innocent role with me! You're embarrassing yourself now," he scoffs, "I have played that role a million times before and with much more gravitas."

"You're really starting to scare me, Dad," I tell him calmly, "Have you been drinking? Is that what's going on?"

His façade of anger drops then and is replaced with earnest pleading. "Please, stop it, Jane! I have no patience for this act! Just tell me why!"

"It's not an act!" I cry in exasperation, "I really don't know what you're talking about!"

"So you had no idea that Michael had regained his full memory?" he prompts in a speculative tone, "This is news to you?"

I literally forget to exhale. Air suspends in my lungs painfully as the full weight of what he's telling me begins to settle. I struggle to regain my bearings. "Wait. Wait. Wait," I implore again and again, "What are you saying? Are…are you telling me that Michael can remember us, like really remember us…like remember everything?"

For the first time since he arrived, my father's aggravation with me dissolves and is replaced with surprise. "You didn't know?"

"No! Of course, I didn't know! This is huge news! Do you think I would keep something like that to myself?" He's flailing around verbally for a response to that rhetorical question when I begin pelting him with more. "How did you find out? How do you know for sure? Who told you that Michael had his memory back? When did it happen?"

"Michael told me. Today. I saw him this morning when I was taking Baby on her weekly stroll to the beach."

"And he just told you that he remembered you? How did that come up?"

"He asked me about Baby and whether Xiomara and I had ever been able to settle our differences about children," he says, "He thought I already knew."

I regard him with a confused frown. "Why would he think that?"

"Michael said that he told you weeks ago."

I'm about to refute that claim when the answer suddenly smacks me hard in the face. All of those days of texts and voice messages and his endless attempts to explain himself, he had been trying to tell me the whole time. I'd thought he wanted to justify his actions that night. I had been so afraid that he'd succeed in convincing me with his version of the events and move me to forgive him that I'd held him at arm's length. And, because of that fear, I have missed so much.

Michael has his complete memory back and I can only imagine what must be going through his mind right now. He remembers the details of how we met and fell in love and got married. He remembers the accidental insemination and how my resulting pregnancy tore us apart. He remembers when I ended our engagement so that I could explore my feelings for Rafael.

But far beyond our relationship woes, he must remember the specifics of our last day together too. He must recall his kidnapping in minute detail and where he's been these five, long years. That's when it fully hits me that he also must remember the person or persons who hurt him.

"Did he tell you anything else?" I ask Dad a little desperately, "Did he mention his kidnapping at all or…or what really happened that day he went to take the LSAT?"

"He said that his friend from Texas was involved in his kidnapping and that now she is in jail."

For a second time, I'm reeling. I actually stumble against a nearby chair because it feels like my knees might buckle. "What? Lorena? She's in jail? She was involved? Talk, Dad! Tell me what's going on!"

"Yes, she was involved. Michael said that she always knew who he was and that she was hired to keep him in ignorance by the same criminal mastermind who had Matelio kidnapped."

"Oh my God…" I stagger forward and sink down into the chair, my mind racing a thousand miles per minute. This last month I've been imagining him embarking on some torrid love affair and in reality he had been wrestling with a huge betrayal. It was very likely on the level of me breaking off our first engagement to be with Rafael. "Oh God," I groan, "He must be so devastated right now. She was the person he trusted most in the world, Dad, and now this. He really did love her."

"I don't know how he feels. He didn't really go into great detail about it," Dad says, "But I could plainly see that he was struggling. He did not seem happy."

"Oh my God," I groan again, slumping down into the chair. The more I think about Michael dealing with that enormous truth on his own for weeks now while I rejected him over and over, the more agitated I become. I'm inundated with the need to make it right. Driven by that need, I bolt upright again and dart to my feet to search for my phone. "I need to call him. God only knows what he's thinking right now! I need to make sure he's okay." I think about our baby growing inside of me and my determination to talk to him is only doubled.

However, just as I locate my purse on the kitchen counter and head towards it, Dad gently sidesteps me to keep me from making the attempt. When I try to get around him, he blocks me again. We do this two more times before I finally lose my patience. I glare at him. "What are you doing?"

"Perhaps you should wait," he advises carefully.

"Wait?" I echo dubiously, "You tell me that Lorena Diaz took part in Michael's kidnapping and then spent months gaslighting him and you want me to wait?"

"Yes. I don't think it's a good idea to call him."

"Why not, Dad?"

"As you know, I can be very a perceptive person and I had the impression that Michael would like to detach himself from you…from all of us really, at least for the time being."

"Detach himself?" I repeat, my voice weak as a leaden lump of dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

"Yes. He…um…he doesn't want to see you."

I bite back the whimper of dismay that threatens to escape me. Of course, that possibility had been the secret fear of mine for the past month. On some level, I was expecting it but, even still, the confirmation leaves me feeling like I've been socked in the chest. "I…I know he's probably upset but… He didn't say that exactly, did he?"

"He didn't have to say it exactly, Jane. He wants to start over. That much was clear to me. I think it would be best to respect his wishes and let him work through it on his own."

"Is that something you think he should do?"

Dad averts his eyes from me at the question and his action is telling. "What I think does not matter," he hedges, "We must do what Michael wants, what he thinks he needs."

"Why? What did he actually tell you, Dad?" But even as I voice the question I know I don't want to hear the words out loud.

He shakes his head and turns away from me. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Ten minutes ago you were ready to bite my head off," I remind him wryly, "Now you want to tiptoe around my feelings? Come on, Dad!"

"That was when I thought you had deliberately kept the truth from me," he replies, "This is different. I cannot knowingly break your heart when I know you do not deserve it."

My vision blurs as reflexive tears fill my eyes. "So you're saying that it will break my heart?" Once again, I think of the child I'm carrying and how I will ever sort out the mess that everything has become.

"Michael is very hurt, Jane. He told me that he's glad it's over between you and that he doesn't want to be in the middle of you and Rafael any longer. Of course, I don't believe him but that is beside the point. It is how he feels."

"But there's no basis for it! He's not between me and Rafael! He never has been!"

Dad whispers my name softly, soothing me with his voice. "Come now. See things from Michael's point of view. You haven't spoken to him in weeks," he reminds me in a gentle tone, "You never even gave him a chance to explain himself but simply cast him out of your life forever without any discussion."

"That's not fair, Dad. Raf-,"

"—Instigated the dispute with Michael in the first place," Dad finished before I can begin my argument, "What did Rafael think would happen when he threw that punch? He wanted a fight. But Michael is the one who has taken all the blame and that's not fair."

"Rafael was in the hospital, Dad. Michael put him there!"

"And his own actions led to that unhappy event! I'm not saying that I excuse what Michael did but he did not act alone!"

"I hear what you're saying but, Rafael is Mateo's father," I argue softly, "He's my best friend. I would have never made it through these last five years without him. He has given me so much and I've already broken his heart too many times to count. I can at least give him my loyalty. I…I owe him that. He deserves to have me on his side in this."

"What does Michael deserve?"

His words are quiet and free of accusation but I flinch guiltily nonetheless. "I don't know," I mumble thickly, "I'm trying to do the right thing but I don't even know what that is anymore."

"Is it the right thing for you?"

I haven't considered the answer to that question in nearly a month. Frankly, what's "right" for me seems irrelevant these days. "Does it even matter at this point, Dad?" I sigh wearily, "I keep hurting them both even when I'm trying not to."

"Listen to me, Jane," Dad implores fervently, "I have stood by quietly and tried to respect your decisions these last few weeks but now I must tell you what I think. While I have not known you as long as your mother and Alba, I like to believe that you have my instincts, my heart. It is our genetic bond. You love in the same way that I love and when you give your heart away, it is for a lifetime.

"And I have nothing against Rafael personally. I believe that he is a good father to Matelio and he has been good to you. But he is not the man who holds your heart. That is Michael. It has always been Michael. He is the best part of you, like Xo is the best part of me. Until you stop apologizing to Rafael for not loving him the way he wants you to, you will never be truly happy, Jane.

"You had his child," he whispers, pulling me into his arms as his words batter down my defenses and I start to cry, "That doesn't mean you owe him a family."