Chapter Twenty-Nine (Michael POV)

My palms are sweating as I pull the car to a stop in front of the house and cut the ignition.

I am thirty four years old, a seasoned detective with impeccable investigative skills. I have brought hardened criminals to justice, risked my life countless times in the line of duty. I've been shot, survived a kidnapping, torture and amnesia, faced the repercussions of all of that and have come out intact on the other side. And yet, despite all of those accomplishments, I've worked myself up into turmoil because I'm dreading to face a six year old boy.

There are at least a dozen other ways I'd like to spend my evening and none of them include shattering the lifelong dreams of a little kid. I'm not prepared mentally or emotionally to deal with the hatred that is almost guaranteed to come my way. In fact, when Rafael first made the suggestion, I was that he was trying to trap me somehow. Actually, that remains my suspicion, even though Jane insists that I'm being paranoid.

But I can't help it. His sudden turnabout seems…odd. Rafael has never wanted me within 10 feet of Mateo before this and now he suddenly wants us to be one great, big happy, blended family? Nope. I am not buying it. He knows his kid is going to reject me and he wants a front row seat to watch the show.

Okay, maybe it's possible that theory is a little extreme. I sincerely doubt that Rafael is going to eagerly welcome Mateo's heartbreak just to see me squirm. He is probably not out to get me…much. But his son? His quirky, intuitive little boy whom I love so much? There is a very really probability that he will reject me outright and I don't know if I can handle that.

By mutual agreement, Jane, Rafael and I decided that the best place for dinner would be a spot that was private but neutral and familiar to Mateo. Ultimately, we decided on Rafael's new place which is more than a little awkward since his house was actually going to be his and Jane's house at one time. It's ironic because the house is located in one of the neighborhoods in which Jane and I had once gone house-hunting so many years before. Maybe under different circumstances we might have ended up there. Life was definitely strange and winding sometimes.

Still, as it is, this is the house where Jane and Rafael would have raised Mateo, maybe even tried for more kids if that was possible for Rafael. At the very least, this would have been the house where they would have expanded their family one way or another. It now stands as a representation of a future that will never be, because all of those hopes and dreams for a life together there had been shattered when Jane chose me. In hindsight, I can't imagine why Rafael would have volunteered his place for this. It would have been much too painful for me if I were in his shoes.

Unable to put it off any longer, I exit the car with a resigned sigh. I feel like a figurative dead man walking to his execution as I start up the path towards the house but I'm miraculously granted an unexpected reprieve when Jane suddenly slips from the front door and comes bounding down to meet me. We had agreed earlier that day that it would be best if she and I arrived separately at Rafael's but it was understood that she would come over to my place to spend the night later on after she got Mateo settled at home. That prospect gives me something to look forward to later and it's foremost in my mind when she hugs me tightly in greeting. For that brief moment, everything is right with my world.

"How bad do you think it's going to be?" I ask apprehensively when we part, "On the levels of dinner last night with your parents?"

Apparently, Jane and Rogelio had been in a rather prolonged fight due to her decision not to tell me about the baby. I was touched to learn that Rogelio had been arguing so fiercely on my behalf but not so thrilled about the stress their rift had caused Jane. Fortunately, all that anger and resentment was forgotten once Rogelio had been told that we'd reconciled so the dinner was supposed to be in celebration of that.

Still, despite all the good intentions, it had been a super-awkward affair in the very beginning. For most of the early part of the evening, the four of us had mostly walked on eggshells around each other. When that wasn't the case, Rogelio was gushing (sometimes to the point of embarrassment) about how happy he was that Jane and I were back together and having a baby. According to him, he "ships" Jane and I "so hard" and we filled his "shipper heart" with "feels." Whatever the hell that means. He seemed happy so I tried not to question it too much.

In Rogelio's over-effusive excitement, he actually thought it was a good idea to wear a t-shirt with my and Jane's faces emblazoned on the front with the bold heading above our heads: Yep, they're back together... But it only got worse when he turned around. The back finished the statement: …and expecting a baby. I was sure it couldn't possibly get any weirder but then I had to apologize to Xo for nearly killing her grandson's father. She, in turn, apologized to me for knocking me unconscious with an unabridged, hardcover dictionary. If I had known you were brainwashed, I would have used something lighter.

We stumbled our way through that dinner but, in the end, it had been fine. Great, even. I had laughed more in that three hours than I had in the last three months combined. But the path to get there had been unbearable. I'm expecting something similar tonight.

"He thinks we're planning a surprise trip to Disney World," Jane says grimly in answer to my question, "He doesn't see it coming at all. So, I'm anticipating that it's going to be pretty bad."

"Maybe we can take him to Disney World after all," I suggest a little desperately, "Just to smooth the whole thing over."

"No. We're not going to bribe him. This is my life and my choice and he's going to have to get on board because he's the child and I'm the adult."

Jane is firm and convicted now but, I wonder how she is going to feel when she's face with the full onslaught of Mateo's anguished disappointment. That Disney trip might start looking better to her. I file it away as a failsafe possibility.

"Come on," I sigh expansively, looping my arm around her shoulder as we start towards the house, "Let's go ahead and get this over with."

The instant I clear the front door, Mateo greets me with a running tackle of excitement, bypassing his mother completely to throw his small arms around my legs in an exuberant hug. "Hey!" Jane exclaims with an offended pout, "What about me? You didn't react like that when you say me!"

"Oh Mom, it's just you. I see you all the time," Mateo tosses back carelessly, "But I haven't seen Michael in forever."

He punctuates that statement by squeezing me even tighter. I'm surprised to realize that I can barely move my legs to walk. As I stumble and teeter, his grip doesn't loosen one iota. I reach down to tousle his hair with an amused laugh. "I missed you too and it has not been forever."

Mateo looks at me with an argumentative expression, his arms falling away at last. "Feels like it."

I stoop down low to hug him back with equal fervor because I can't be sure this won't be the last time I do. "Sorry about that, buddy," I murmur ruefully, "I really did miss you though. A lot."

"I missed you too."

I give him yet another squeeze for that, briefly hefting him into the air when I do. "Oh my gosh, Mateo! Your grandpa was right! You're getting so big!"

"That's because you haven't seen me in a hundred years," he replies sagely, "I'm still the same size." I'm chuckling over that response when he suddenly frames my cheeks in his small hands. "You shaved!" he gasps in childish glee, reminding me once again that he hasn't seen me in more than two months. He runs his palms over my face in amazement. "It's so smooth. I like it! Did you do that for me?"

I grin at him affectionately. I'm vaguely aware of Jane watching the entire exchange with a wistful smile. "Sure, bud. We'll go with that."

Just then a shadow falls over us. I glance up to find Rafael standing there with an imposing stance. His facial expression is inscrutable so there's no way for me to tell what he's thinking. However, his tone gives me some indication when he says with obvious strain, "Hello, Michael. Welcome."

I straighten to shake his extended hand. "Thanks for having me over."

"Of course," he murmurs but I get the impression that he really wants to say something else right then.

Mateo tugs on his hand impatiently. "Daddy! Daddy! Can I show Michael my room?"

"Yeah, go ahead, buddy. Your Mom and I need to discuss a few things."

"They probably just want to kiss and stuff," he says in a loud stage whisper as he takes hold of my hand and leads me away, "We don't want to see that. It's yucky."

Unfortunately, I barely register anything he says as he points out every nook and cranny of his room. I'm too preoccupied with the realization that we are about to utterly blindside this kid. There is about to be a seismic shift in his entire world and that's kind of my fault. I hate that. I hate that I will have a part in disillusioning this child whom I love so much. And it's not that I didn't know that a relationship with Jane would come with collateral damage but I really wish it didn't have to be Mateo that gets wrecked.

When we finally return to the living room twenty-five minutes later and after Mateo has formally introduced me to every action figure he owns and given me their individual background stories, we find Rafael and Jane sitting on the sofa together in tense silence. "Hey, Mateo," Rafael calls out when he spots us, "Come over here and sit down. Mommy and I have something to talk to you about."

"Okay," he agrees, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of them, "Is this about you guys getting married?" I keep myself off on the parameter of their family semi-circle, wisely discerning that I need to hang back for now. As Rafael addresses his son's question, I shove my hands in my pockets and listen to their exchange.

"Yeah, it is actually about that," he replies to Mateo in a gentle tone, "Remember when Mommy and I told you that Michael came back and how happy you were about that because you thought all of us were going to be a family?"

Mateo nods vigorously. "I remember I wanted Michael to live with us. But you said that Michael had his own family."

"That's right. I did. But you were right after all," Rafael says, "Because Michael is Mommy's family the way you and I are her family."

"Okay. What does that mean?"

At that point, Rafael appears choke up at the idea of answering the question so Jane smoothly takes over for him as he takes a second to recollect himself. "Do you remember how sad I was when I thought that Michael was gone?"

Again, Mateo nods. "You cried all the time."

"I did," Jane agrees, "Because I missed him so, so much and it was hard to be without him. I just wanted him to be back with me again."

"Well, he's back now," Mateo says, as if he expects that solution is enough to fix the problem. I'm pretty sure that he actually does. "Michael is back, Mommy, so you don't have to cry anymore. And he's going to stay forever. Right?" He looks over at me for confirmation.

"Right," I manage to whisper with a forced smile.

He beams at his mother. "See, Mom? You don't have to be sad anymore."

"You're right. I don't have to be sad anymore because now I can be with him all the time," she explains softly, "And that's what I want, Mateo. I want to be with Michael all the time because I love him. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

I watch as his innocent expression crumples into something close to devastation and there's no doubt that he understands exactly what Jane is telling him. "You don't want to marry Daddy anymore?" he asks in a shattered tone.

His father is quick to gather him close to comfort him. "It doesn't have to change anything, bud," Rafael reassures him thickly, "I still love you and Mommy still loves you and we still love each other. Your mom is always going to be my friend. But we're not going to live together and we're not going to get married."

"But why?" he wails plaintively.

It's difficult to listen to this, difficult to watch but I make myself stay rather than give into the impulse to quietly duck out of there. I make myself witness every bit of his pain and anguish because it serves as a brutal reminder of what had to be lost for my own personal happiness. I don't think I've ever felt more selfish in my life and it fills me with self-loathing.

"I don't understand," Mateo continues to weep, "Why can't we live together and be a family?"

Rafael kisses his head and tenderly brushes away the tears that stain Mateo's cheeks. "Because Mommy's going to live with Michael and be a family with him instead."

"So Michael's going to marry Mommy?"

I want to speak up then and tell him that isn't something he has to worry about right now. While I do want to marry Jane, I want Mateo to be settled and accepting before we take that step. Thankfully, Jane seems to share my thinking on the matter. We have exchange a wordless look of agreement between us. But when she starts to speak up to reassure Mateo, Rafael interrupts her by saying, "They probably will get married, bud. And that's something that you and me have to prepare for and accept because this is what your mother wants."

Mateo jerks away from him then with a small yelp of rage, his hand clenched tightly into fists. "NO! THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANT!" he screams directly at his mother, so vehemently that Jane actually flinches, "YOU'RE A LIAR! YOU'RE A STUPID, UGLY LIAR AND I HATE YOU! YOU SAID WE WOULD BE A FAMILY!"

At that point, I lose the battle with myself to keep quiet. The look of pure devastation on Jane's face right now compels me to speak. "Hey, Mateo, stop that! You can't talk to your mother that way!" I admonish him sharply, "I don't care how angry you are. You don't disrespect her!"

"SHUT UP!" he yells, in full-fledged tantrum now, "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! YOU'RE NOT MY DADDY! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!" He punctuates that shout of outrage by sweeping a dozen books and decorative items from the nearby bookshelf to the floor with thumping crash and then runs for his room, sobbing the entire way. A moment later, the loud crack of his bedroom door as he slams it shut reverberates through the house. We all jump at the sound.

Following that emotional fit of rage, we are all silent in the aftermath. Jane is crying. I am too stunned to even speak. But Rafael is clearly angry. He rises to his feet with a scathing glare directed at me. "He's right," he spits wrathfully, "You're not his father and you never will be! I'll accept you in Jane's life because I have to but don't you ever try to parent my son again!"

"Then you parent him! He shouldn't talk to Jane that way," I reply, my words taut with defiance, "You shouldn't let him talk to Jane that way."

"It's none of your business. Stay out of it," he utters, obviously dismissing every word I just said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to check on my son."

After he's gone, I move to sit next to Jane and pull her into my arms. "It's okay," I whisper again and again, "I'm here. Just tell me what you need."

"I need my child not to hate me," she sniffles pitifully.

"My mom used to always tell me and Billy that if we didn't hate her then she wasn't doing it right," I murmur, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere with some humor, "So maybe that's a good thing." She doesn't even crack a glimmer of a smile.

"This isn't the same. I built his hopes up for me and Raf and then I didn't deliver. This is on me."

"How were you supposed to know that I was going to come back, Jane? You couldn't have predicted that this was going to happen. Please don't blame yourself." She looks up at me with wet, wide eyes fairly pleading for absolution. I want to lift her burden of guilt even as I'm suffocating beneath my own. Wanting to comfort her, I start to lean forward to press a kiss to her forehead when Rafael rudely calls for her and startles us apart.

"If you can tear yourself away from Michael for five seconds," he snaps tersely, "your son needs you."

She glances at me apologetically but I wave her away. "Go ahead. I'm actually going to take off anyway."

"What? Michael, no! I don't want you to leave."

"Rafael is right. You both need to focus on Mateo right now. I'll be fine. Call me later."

But as I'm making the lonely drive back to my sparsely decorated apartment, I'm rethinking that reassurance greatly. Without the noise and nervousness and Jane nearby to distract me, I find myself trapped in my own thoughts. Tonight's events tumble around in my mind in bold, vivid detail. I can remember how mottled with rage Mateo became, how devastated Jane looked when he verbally attacked her and how Rafael had stabbed me with accusing eyes, as if saying, "This is all your fault. You broke our family."

I don't know what I thought was going to happen really. I knew perfectly well how excited Mateo was about the prospect of his mother and father being together because he had never passed up an opportunity to tell me. And over and over again, I had reassured him that I had no designs on his mother, that we were only friends…when I knew almost the entire time that I wanted her. I should have known better than to expect, after all of that, that Mateo could easily accept me in Jane's life. I knew better but I had hoped nonetheless.

And now I have to live with the fallout. I knew that was coming too but the reality is much worse than I had imagined. A devastated pregnant girlfriend with a son and an ex-fiancé who hate me. Definitely not good times. And though I wish that it didn't, the situation casts a definite pall on my reconciliation with Jane and her pregnancy. We couldn't even share that news with Mateo tonight because he was so upset. What if he never warmed up to the idea? What if he hates my child, his half sibling, just as much as his father hates me? What happens when Jane is placed in the unconscionable position of having to choose between her children? Then what?

The more I think about it, the more worried and worked up I become. By the time I make it home and toss my keys onto the kitchen counter, I'm so tense that my neck and back feel like they're on fire. All I want is a drink. I have two six packs in the refrigerator and I plan to down all twelve beers. I park myself in front of the television to blindly watch the latest ballgame and drink. I'm on my sixth beer and feeling more than a little buzzed when I hear a tentative knock on my door. Curious over who could be visiting me so late in the evening, I blearily stumble over to the door and pull it open. To my relieved surprise, Jane stands on the other side of it.

"Hey there, pretty lady," I greet with a hazy smile.

"Hey," she says, brushing past me with an inquisitive expression, "What's up with you?" It only takes her a few seconds to assimilate what's going on as soon as she sees the row of empty beer bottles on my coffee table. "Oh my God, Michael! Are you drunk right now?"

"Buzzed," I correct her as I stagger back to the couch and plop down, "I am pleasantly buzzed. I take issue with the word 'drunk.' I am a gentleman and gentlemen do not get drunk."

"Oh yeah? Well, you look pretty wasted, Michael, gentleman or not."

"I am not wasted!" But I bely that passionate denial when I attempt to prop my legs up onto my coffee table and miss it all together. "That's okay. I didn't want to recline anyway."

Jane drops down beside me with a pout. "That's not fair. I want a drink too."

I grab the beer bottle I'd abandoned earlier to answer the door and tip it to my mouth. "Shoulda thought 'bout that before you got knocked up," I tell her after a draught.

"You know you had something to do with that, right?"

"Oh yeah, right. I did." I take another drink before I ask, "So how's the kid?" I'm buzzed enough that some of the sting from Mateo's rejection tonight has faded…just a little bit. "Still pissed?"

"Yep. The kid hates me," Jane sighs despondently, "He didn't even want to come home with me. He's staying with his dad tonight."

"I was hoping things would get better after I left."

"Nope. They got worse."

"That's a bummer."

"Yeah…" She eyes my beer longingly. "Can I just have one sip?" she wheedles, "I'll barely let it touch my tongue! I've had a really hard day."

"No, you cannot," I reply, wagging a chastising finger at her, "Think of our child, woman! The surgeon general advises against it!"

"Fine," she says, suddenly plucking my beer from my hand and setting it down out of reach, "If I can't drink then neither can you." She pokes her tongue out at me for good measure. "You said you wanted to experience this pregnancy with me so here you go."

"Jane, come on," I whine. I attempt a half-hearted stretch around her but she easily blocks my efforts due to my dulled reflexes. "Don't be like that. I need it. It's not every day I disillusion a little boy. I feel like scum. That's like kicking a puppy. Who does that?"

"You didn't disillusion him, Michael."

"Right. I don't know how you can say that with a straight face."

"You didn't," she insists fiercely, "You fell in love. So did I. I'm not apologizing for that anymore, not even to him which is why he's so angry right now. He wanted me to take back wanting to be with you and I wouldn't."

I lean into her, resting my forehead against her temple, basking in her scent and warmth and proximity, overwhelmed by her loyalty to me and our relationship. "I'm so sorry this happened. I feel like this is all my fault."

She turns into my body and nuzzles her nose to mine. "I'm pretty certain this is all drunken remorse talking right now but, for the record, it's not your fault, Michael. You didn't ask to be kidnapped. You didn't ask to be kept away from your family for five years."

"I bulldozed through your life."

"Not even close. You don't want me to blame myself for what happened? You don't blame yourself either."

"I can't help it," I whisper mournfully, "I wish there was something I could do to make it better."

"You can," she tells me in a somber tone. I lift my head to regard her with a hopeful look. "You can take me to El Rey De Las Fritas for a Cuban hamburger. If we hurry, we can make it before they close."

I blink at her incredulously. "What? You want to eat right now?"

"Michael, I'm starving and their burgers are so good! They put the little shoestring fries on top." She smacks her lips in anticipation. "I've been craving it all day. Besides, I was too nervous to eat dinner earlier and it's not like Rafael fed us anything. He's a terrible host."

"Babe, I'm too drunk to drive."

"I thought you said gentlemen don't get drunk," she reminds me with a cheeky smile, "Don't worry. I'll drive. What do you say? You don't want to cry into your beer all night. Let's get out of here."

Surprisingly, that turns out to be a much better idea than staying home alone and getting drunk. On the way to El Rey's we don't talk about Mateo or Rafael at all. Instead, we make silly faces at each other, tell lame jokes and regale one another with over the top work tales. It feels like old times, like classic Michael and Jane before the kidnapping, before Rafael, before the accidental artificial insemination. We are suddenly once again those two people whose lives collided in the best way on the night of her 21st birthday and it feels good. We crank up the radio as loud as we can stand it and when Bruno Mars' It Will Rain comes on the radio we belt it out together in a dramatic, dissonant tune.

"He sang at our wedding, you know," I remark with a nostalgic grin as Jane starts to warble out the second verse, "That was a good day. The best day."

She smiles at me softly. "Yeah. It was the best day."

"The best of the best…until I got shot. That part sucked ass."

"Tell me about it."

"And it hurt. Did I ever tell you that getting shot hurts like a son of a bitch?"

"I kind of assumed that it would, you know…due to the bullet ripping forcefully through your body and creating a hole. Just saying."

"You're right. But, getting shot aside, I still think that it was the best day of my life. That's why I can't let that go," I confess in a tremulous whisper, "I can't let what we had together go because we're so good together. We're the best together, Jane, and I don't want to give that up. Does that make me a bad person?"

"Does it make me a bad person if I tell you that I feel the same way?"

"Probably," I say, my tongue loosened with alcohol so that I can speak freely, "But I don't care because you make me so happy, Jane. And I want this…you and me. I want it forever."

"Me too, Michael."

"God, I love you," I gush, "You are the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me."

She glances over at me, shaking her head. "Thanks. You really are drunk, aren't you?"

"Yep. Sure am." While she's choking back a stunned laugh over that, I continue with my emotional unburdening. "And it doesn't matter to me that you slept with Rafael," I declare sincerely, "I mean, I hate it. I really, really hate it but it's okay because you're mine now and…I had you first." I bob my eyebrows at her for effect but she just rolls her eyes.

"Really, Michael? Could you be more juvenile?"

"Yes. But that's not the point right now. The point is, I'm never letting you go again. And…and, I'm glad it happened. I'm glad you had Rafael to help you."

"You're glad?"

"Yeah," I maintain with the somber seriousness that can only be afforded to someone really drunk, "Because he made you happy and that's a good thing." I'm feeling rather sentimental right now and philosophical too so the words keep flowing from me unchecked. "But I'm not really sad that you dumped him for me and I think that's the problem. I think I feel bad because I don't feel bad enough, not enough to push you back at him. I can't do that because I feel like it's supposed to us, Jane."

"I think that too, baby."

"And lately, I've been thinking about what you said to me the second time I proposed, about not wanting to go back and do it all over because-,"

"—Actually, that was the third time you proposed," she interrupts with a smirk, "But please continue."

I roll my eyes and suppress my answering laugh. "Third time then," I amend gamely, "Sorry. It's happened so many times that it's hard to keep track."

She giggles and I swear the sound of it gives me life. "Now as I was saying," I begin again, "You were right about not going back. All of the pain and heartbreak and messiness was worth it in the end because it brought us to this moment, Jane. Us, sitting together in my car, listening to Bruno Mars on the radio and singing very badly. This is what I want every day. Forever."

"Really?" she croons sappily.

"Really."

"You know, if I weren't driving right now I would kiss you, Michael Cordero."

"Then pull over and kiss me," I suggest carelessly, favoring her with my most beguiling smile, "What's stopping you?"

She surprises me when she actually does it. She pulls the car off onto the shoulder of the highway, unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs over the gearshift to kiss me breathless.