A/N: Ahhhh! Y'all. I'm so humbled and awed by the level of feedback this story has gotten. I didn't think it could get better than Lemonade, but this might be topping that, which is wild, because I kinda set out to write a fairly straightforward romance (albeit with a few sad elements). But y'all are really out here having full conversations in the review section, and I love it. Not gonna lie, I was a little surprised by the initial comments on this chapter, because I thought it was more of a "they're both right and wrong" situation. So for a lot of the responses to be mostly frustrated with Michonne was like, oh. Okay. I wrote most of the chapter from her perspective, so I figured it would be the opposite. But that's really the fun of doing this and hearing from you all. It helps me adjust course if I need to. So if you ever thought your feedback wasn't important, please take heed when I say that it absolutely is. *heart eyes*
I will also say that I very intentionally wanted to make it clear that Michonne was not Rick's second choice (Beth and EternityisEternal, you are spot on), and Michonne knows that's not true - she's the one that shut him down repeatedly - but I understand why some of you may feel that way. He didn't fight for Michonne years ago. But that's because (in my mind), it would've been pointless. Or pushy? It's a fine line to walk - when someone says no, that's supposed to be the answer. And the reason he asked whether it was Mike or Lori holding her back is because he probably would've waited or pushed harder had it been Mike. The moment on the couch was the first inclination he had that he wasn't alone in what he was feeling. But there's no getting in between friends, so he moved on, figuring there was nothing to wait for. And they were both hurt over the entire situation, but instead of trying to work through it, they just stopped talking for a long time, which I think is both their faults.
But also, the "second choice" argument is something that really bothers me whenever it comes up about Richonne, because I feel like real life for adults doesn't really work that way. Of course he'd still be married to Lori if she hadn't died. He made a commitment to her and he was honoring it. It would've have been bittersweet, but that doesn't make him wrong. In the real world, people get married, they get divorced or become widowed, fall out of love for various reasons, etc. But if they're lucky, they fall in love again. That doesn't make the new person a lesser or second choice. Even if, as with this case, they knew said person beforehand. There's no rule that you have to only love and only want one person forever. Life is complicated and it sends us down certain paths for reasons. For instance, on the show, I strongly believe that Rick wasn't ready to be Michonne's person until after he got that bullshit with Jessie out of his system. He didn't deserve Michonne until he acted right, and it took Carl getting shot and the community coming together for him to have hope in his life again. I don't like the way the show handled the situation at ALL, but I also think it's a little shortsighted to get caught up in the supposed order of things. We're allowed to be in love more than once. And we're allowed to make mistakes. In this story, Michonne beats herself up because she feels like she made one with Mike, but she did what she thought was right at the time. She has to learn that that's okay. And the reason I keep acknowledging Rick's past hurt feelings is because people keep saying he didn't really want her, he didn't care, and that's just not the case, so I'm constantly trying to combat those misinterpretations. But Michonne's pain is manifesting itself right here, so it's very much being addressed, too.
Also, I'm really glad that a couple of you picked up on the notion that Lori might have been one of those women that didn't see Michonne as a threat. I'm gonna let you guys decide for yourselves, because I do enjoy when some things are left open for interpretation, but it was definitely something I was hinting at. And you may get a little more information to work with soon. *eyes emoji* I also added a little bit more about Shane since so many of you guys requested it. It's not a full answer, but I think you'll get the point.
Whew, that was a lot. I don't even know if I got to everything y'all brought up. But this chapter is already ridiculously long, so since we're talking about it, I thought I'd just empty my brain, haha. Anyway, I love this conversation and I love you all. Thank you. -Ash
PS: For anyone who might've missed it, I made a post showing the place that I used for Michonne's bed and breakfast, just so you know where they're all staying. It's on my Tumblr, and I'll reblog it so that it's at the top of my blog for the next couple days.
PPS: "You Make Me Wanna" is a dope song? Wth.
12 - My Life Would Suck Without You
June 2006.
"You all right, man?"
Rick just slightly turned back to the sound of his best friend's voice, confirming for himself that he was alone before responding. "Yeah, I'm fine," he nodded, standing from the seat he'd taken on the venue steps.
Shane scoffed at his answer as he strolled down the steps to join him. "Then what you doin' out here alone?" he wondered, moving behind Rick to brush away any traces of grime from his suit. "You know Michonne'd have a fit if she saw you sittin' in dirt."
"I would've wiped it off," he promised, though he made sure to stand still until Shane finished. "Is it time yet?"
"Nah, still another hour, last I heard."
With a sigh, Rick nodded as his friend shifted beside him, the two of them staring out at the splendid view that was the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. It was a gorgeous day, even with the humid high temperature - the blue sky offsetting the myriad of colorful flowers surrounding them with the city's skyline as the backdrop. It was all so irritatingly perfect.
"So you're not gonna say anything?" Shane pressed when the silence became conspicuous. "You're just… out here?"
"It was chaotic in there," he shrugged. "Just needed some air."
"So it has nothin' to do with the fact that Michonne's gettin' married?"
Rick's brows knitted at the implication, but he quickly shook his head in denial. "No..." His voice was almost inaudible, nearly taken over by the breeze.
"All right," Shane immediately backed off, careful not to make him feel any worse. But it was obvious something was wrong, and he knew it wasn't doing him any favors to pretend otherwise. "But don't forget how well I know you, man. Ain't no reason to hide from me."
"I dunno what you're talkin' about," he insisted, clearing his throat as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm happy for her."
"And sad for yourself?" he prompted, staring at the side of his face from behind his sunglasses. "A little?"
Rick chuckled a bit nervously because he didn't know where Shane was getting all these assumptions from. Was it that obvious? Or was this just the territory that came with knowing someone most of your life?
"Listen, I don't know what it was with y'all," Shane went on, answering his question. "Thick as thieves one minute, barely talkin' the next. But I know how much you liked her. And it's all right if you feel like shit on a day like today."
He nodded, but was hesitant to confirm or deny anything when he didn't even know what was wrong himself. Not really. He was happily married – for nearly six years now – so this hangup he had with Michonne doing the same was silly. Selfish, even. She closed the door on them a long time ago, and he essentially locked it when he married Lori. This should have been a non-issue by now. "Is there somewhere in there we can get a drink yet?"
"Not 'til the reception," Shane guessed, looking back inside to see bridesmaids scurrying back and forth through the hall. "Mike might have somethin' in his room, but I doubt it."
Rick smirked, thinking Mike was about the last person he wanted to see at that moment. It was bad enough he'd be standing there with a front row view of the two of them exchanging vows. He didn't want to have to hang out with the guy beforehand, too. "I'm gonna go find Lori," he declared quietly.
"You're gonna go to your wife like this?" he asked before he could escape. "Lookin' like some sad puppy that can't find its way home? You know she's gonna wonder what's wrong with you."
He sighed in reply, mostly because he knew Shane was right. He hadn't seen her since the rehearsal dinner, so his dour mood would be all the more apparent. But he wanted to see his son and knew he'd be with her. That face, that five-year-old innocence had a way of making him feel like the happiest man on earth. "I'll be back," he told Shane, already trudging into the venue before he could say anything else.
Inside, the brilliantly decorated banquet hall was bursting with energy as people he did and didn't recognize hurried around in preparation. Ordinarily, the yellow-centered theme would have lifted his spirits as the color always reminded him of Michonne, but now, it only seemed to highlight his bad mood. Despite Shane's good advice, he scanned the room for his wife, but settled for Andrea when he spotted her with one of the hairstylists, both of them attempting to hold her curls in place as they scurried through the room. "Andrea!" he called after them.
"Kinda busy here, Rick," she replied, not stopping.
"Just wanna know if you've seen Lori."
"Last I saw her, she was with Michonne in her room," she sent back.
He let out another long sigh as he checked his watch, wondering whether his mom had made it there yet. But knowing her penchant for being late, it was unlikely she'd gotten there early. "All right," he nodded to himself, steeling himself to face both Lori and Michonne. He reluctantly proceeded down the corridor to the dressing rooms, settling on the big door at the end, knocking gently before taking a deep breath.
"Yeah?" Michonne's gleeful voice responded.
"It's Rick," he said from behind the closed door. "Just lookin' for Lori."
The door almost immediately swung open, and he expected to find his wife meeting him in her goldenrod-colored dress and full face of freshly-done makeup. Instead, it was the blushing bride, literally stunning in all her wedding day glory. Her simple, sleek white dress made her look more like a model than a bride; especially paired with her five-day new haircut, making her exquisite face the focal point of the glamorous look. God, she was beautiful in every application of the word. It took his breath away.
"Hey," she smiled when he didn't speak. He looked quite dapper, though, in his three-piece suit – the gray of it made his eyes look the same color, causing her to stare a little longer than she normally would have. He was so handsome. "Lori's on a hunt for some alcohol," she eventually said, remembering why he was there.
He nodded, fixated on her red-painted lips as she spoke. The spell only broke as she turned away from him, headed back into her dressing room, leaving him to follow. "I was actually lookin' for some of that myself," he noted nervously. He was unsure whether to leave the door open, so he was relieved when it closed on its own. "You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way."
"Well thank you," she beamed, planting herself in front of her mirror for the fifth time in ten minutes. She remained unsure about the entire aesthetic. "I don't know what I was thinking cutting off all my hair a week before my wedding."
"You were probably thinking you'd look like this," he smiled softly.
Appreciating the compliment, she gazed at him in her mirror, but observed how quickly his smile faded when he thought she wasn't looking. "You okay, Rick?"
He gaze flitted to hers, feeling like he'd been caught stealing. "Yeah," he said, his voice turning gravelly as he croaked out his lie. "I mean I'll be fine."
"Which is to say you're not fine now?"
"I'm a little… I dunno. Emotional, I guess," he admitted, nodding at the floor as she turned to face him. "It sounds crazy to say, but we got here and it hit me like a brick that you were gettin' married today, and... I dunno." He shook his head, unable to find words that adequately expressed how he felt.
Michonne let out a shaky exhale at his unexpected admission. It would've been a lie to say it didn't cross her mind a couple of times throughout her engagement – what did Rick really think about it all? Did he feel those pangs of longing as she sat in his living room, week after week, planning her wedding? The same ones she felt as she stood beside Lori on their wedding day? A residual stinging feeling as he realized he maybe should've said or done something different back in college? Yeah, she knew what that was like. "I think it's normal," she spoke softly as she approached him, her heels echoing against the marble floor. "To think about a past love on their wedding day... To come up with a list of regrets when we think it's too late."
Rick's gaze immediately lifted, her choice of words catching his ear.
"I mean, not that we were in love," she corrected herself; lying to herself.
He nodded awkwardly as he gazed at her splendid face. Shimmering with makeup but glowing with happiness. She looked like a princess getting her fairytale ending, and that mattered so much more than his resurfacing feelings. They'd been dormant for years now, and he was certain he could push them back down. For her sake, if nothing else. "Whatever it is we had… or didn't have back then, I love you today," he offered earnestly. "And I'm happy for you."
She rolled her eyes in response, solely because she knew that she was verging on ruining her makeup as she felt the familiar threat of tears. But she smiled as she took his hand and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you, Rick."
He gently kissed the side of her face as they embraced, inhaling her sweet, expensive scent, basking in her arms around him as if it were the last time they'd ever touch. He exhaled slowly and hesitantly as she pulled back, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek as well. "I should get out of your way," he decided, looking around the small, cluttered room.
"You're welcome to stay," she countered, wiping her lipstick from his cheek. "Although I'm sure it'll be crowded again in another five minutes."
"No, I should go," he nodded. He stared into her eyes, brimming with everything he loved about her, and lined in turquoise, for just a second too long and then looked away. "I'll see you out there."
"Okay," she relented, watching him intently as he walked away and it felt like watching a past life leaving her, even though he would undoubtedly be part of her future. Still, she kept watching as he reached for the doorknob and it pushed open before he could turn it, his wife nearly running into him.
"Oh. Hey," Lori greeted him, surprised to see him there; even more surprised by his seemingly glum expression.
"Hey," he replied, noting the bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. "I was just lookin' for you."
"And I was just looking for this," she declared, proudly holding up her findings before offering the bottle to Michonne. But their lack of response wasn't lost on her. In fact, the silence was speaking volumes. She could only imagine what they'd been discussing before she arrived. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," he returned casually as he stood in the threshold. "Where's Carl?"
"He's in the other room with Mike, eating his lunch."
He nodded, his eyes drifting to Michonne one more time – the last time he'd see her as a single woman, as it were – before landing on Lori again. "I'll see y'all in a bit."
Michonne smiled in his direction, though not at him, specifically. And not in the full way she would've had they been alone. It was a gentle, sympathetic smile meant to simply say, It'll be okay. No matter how many times they'd inadvertently caused one another heartbreak over the years, they always got to come back. They would be okay.
August 2008.
"Goddamn it," Michonne sighed as the sound of her doorbell echoed throughout her home. She picked herself up from the floor with a groan, using the commode for assistance before flushing down the bowl of water. She wiped her mouth and adjusted her t-shirt as she headed out of the bathroom, plodding tiredly down her steps. "Carl, your dad's here," she called out, not entirely sure where the seven-year-old had gone. His lack of response should've alarmed her, but she was feeling too terrible to actually worry.
"Okay," he eventually answered, sounding rather distracted.
She shook her head as she made it to her front door, swinging back the heavy wood to reveal Rick, looking like the epitome of the casual Sunday morning in his plaid shirt and jeans. "Hey."
"Hey," he nodded, stepping into her palatial home behind her. He noticed she was still in her pajamas, which he thought was unlike Michonne outside of holidays or sickness. "I went to the back door, but nobody answered."
"Sorry, I was upstairs."
Rick squinted at her answer, knowing she could usually hear down there from her bedroom. Everything seemed just a little bit off with her. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she chirped, not detecting his concern. "He's up there reading. Supposedly."
"Diary of a Wimpy Kid?"
"Indeed."
"Must've been an easy weekend for you then," he chuckled, following her up the steps.
She started to reply, feeling a laugh at the tip of her tongue, but it was quickly – urgently – replaced with the need to throw up. She paused to gauge which bathroom she could make it to in time and then took off running without another word.
"Michonne," Rick called for her, confused and concerned by her beeline. He went after her, albeit a bit reluctantly as she disappeared into her bedroom, but he figured propriety wasn't exactly of the essence at the moment. He continued the short maze to her bathroom where he found her already on her knees, heaving into the toilet as he reached her. "Shit," he whispered, dropping his car keys to assist. The nook where the toilet sat was small, but he stepped in regardless, gently stroking her back as she vomited mercilessly.
Michonne let out another frustrated groan as she pulled back from the commode and settled into the floor. "I'm so sorry," she said, watching him reach over her to flush. "I did not mean for you to see that."
"Drink your water," he ignored her, nodding to the bottle he'd noticed beside her. If anything, he felt shitty for having her watching Carl all weekend when she obviously wasn't up to it. He turned into the rest of the giant, lavish bathroom, finding the linen closet and grabbing a washcloth. "How long have you been feeling like this?" he asked as he dampened the cloth with warm water.
"On and off for a couple of weeks," she revealed, figuring that would give him the answer he was really looking for.
"I see." He returned to her, taking a seat on the floor beside her before handing over the towel. "So I guess we're not dealin' with the flu here."
She smirked at his use of 'we' just as she wiped her mouth. "No, not quite."
"Have you taken a test yet?"
"I've taken four," she answered him evenly. "One every day since Thursday."
Rick found himself smirking too, because that sounded exactly like Michonne. Prudent to nearly a fault. "They all said the same thing?"
"Clear and resounding positives on all four," she confirmed. She rested her head against the wall, recognizing that what she was about to say would be her first time saying it out loud. "I'm pregnant."
He chuckled at the way she said it, her sing-song tone sounding sarcastic. "Well shit, I don't know whether to congratulate you or not."
"No, it's a good thing," she promised, gulping down more water to rid the terrible taste in her mouth. "I just feel like shit right now, so…"
"Understandable," he nodded, his gaze lingering on their outstretched legs, her pretty bare feet next to his ugly old boots. Life was like that – pretty and ugly all at once. "So I take it you haven't told Lori yet since I didn't hear any shrieking over the weekend."
"I… haven't told anyone yet," she intimated, looking up at him. She noticed his stare flicker, but he remained stoic, seemingly unaffected.
"Not even Mike?" he wondered quietly.
"Not even Mike." She let out a small sigh, realizing it probably sounded insane that after three days, she'd yet to tell her husband they were having a baby. "I think I needed some time to process it," she added guiltily.
Rick wasn't sure what to think; why it was a strange point of pride for him to be the first person she told. But it was. It made him smile genuinely for the first time all weekend. "I'm surprised he didn't notice you've been sick."
"It's been around the same time every day, so either I'm at work or he is," she shrugged. "This kid doesn't play."
"Lori didn't really have the morning sickness," he recalled, thinking back nearly eight years ago. Seemed like another lifetime now. "I remember her body just ached a lot."
"Yeah, I'd trade this for that any day of the week." She took another few small gulps of her water as she felt that familiar, frustrating urge again. "One of my partners has a boy and a girl," she said between sips, "and the boy was easy, breezy… even the labor took like four hours. But the girl…" She shook her head, thinking back to the days where her friend spent most of the workday in her bathroom. "Just watching her go through it made me miserable."
"So we think it's a girl," he surmised, stealing a glimpse of her face. She seemed stable for the time being, so he rested his head against the wall, too. He was exhausted, and the thought of going back home only exacerbated it. "I wanted Carl to be a girl," he admitted softly. "I dunno why."
"So she could have you wrapped around her little finger?" she smirked knowingly.
"Yeah, probably so," he granted with a small chuckle. "I'm predictable in that way."
Michonne's smile faded as she recognized that Rick didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood. For a typically jovial guy, he seemed downright brooding at the moment, which made her sad. But then, she knew things weren't all that great at home, so it shouldn't have surprised her. She could only imagine that whatever he was feeling, Lori was feeling it ten times worse. She needed to call her later to check up on her. "How was your weekend?" she quietly questioned, looking up at him, focusing on his closed eyes; his long, pretty eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks.
"Long," he yawned, shaking his head. "I had to keep finding reasons to get outta the house."
"Is that why you came instead of Lori?"
"Honestly, yes," he scoffed. "You ever driven around the block a few extra times, or sat in the garage for a few extra minutes, just so you can avoid comin' in the house?"
"I can't say that I have," she frowned, worried. "That doesn't sound healthy…"
"It's not," he laughed in spite of himself. "It's terrible. But that's what it feels like when you know there's a fight on the other side of that door. Or even just the tension of being around someone you can't really talk to."
"I'm sorry," she sighed, feeling empathy for both her friends. "But you know, you have something you get true fulfillment from. You wake up and get to go to something you love, something that makes you feel useful for ten hours a day, making deals and… whatever you and Shane do," she chuckled. "But Lori doesn't have that. She doesn't have anything to fill her days with, and you don't really seem to care."
"Of course I care," he retorted defensively. "I asked her to come be our accountant, right at the start, because I knew she wanted something. But she didn't want that, so…"
"So you got your little ego bruised and you stopped giving a shit, Rick."
"That's not-." He stopped to think about the course of events, because he didn't want to put forth a false argument. It was hard for him to say for sure, because the firm had definitely taken up most of his time and capacity for caring about much else. When he and Shane started their business, they did it because they knew land development was a lucrative field – especially in Atlanta. What he didn't realize was that its startup would be as time-consuming as it was profitable. There were several months where Lori was the only participant in their home. He thought he'd made up for that by providing for their family, but maybe he did deserve the blame for what was happening in his home now. "It's not that I don't give a shit," he finally spoke sincerely. "I mean, it did feel like she didn't believe in us, in what we were tryin' to do. But I didn't stop caring because of that, I don't think. I just… we started makin' money, and I didn't think she needed… more anymore. I thought that was the dream – to not have to work. But I guess I never really thought about it the way you framed it," he allowed.
"Her day-to-day is essentially waiting for you and Carl to come home so she can feel useful again," she further explained. "And whether you meant to or not, I think it certainly feels like, for her, you just dismissed her issues."
Rick sighed again as he shook his head against the wall. "I don't know how it came to this."
"You two used to fight all the time," Michonne reminded him, her voice lowering as she felt that urge to retch bubbling back to the surface. "You'll be fine."
"Yeah, we fought in college," he chuckled. "Not now. Not… eight years into a marriage."
"Jesus, how the fuck have you been married that long," she groaned. She pulled herself back up, making her crawl toward the toilet, just in case. "When did we get old?"
He chuckled at her statement, but the concern in his voice was apparent as he asked, "You okay?"
"Another round is coming up," she nodded.
"I've felt old for a while now," he admitted, keeping his watchful eyes on her. "Having a kid does that to you, apparently."
"Oh, great," she returned flatly. "Can't wait."
"I found a couple of gray hairs last month, and I nearly lost my fuckin' mind."
Michonne giggled in response, as she could only imagine. "You're not even 32 yet," she snorted.
"That's what I'm sayin'," he shook his head. "It was terrifying."
"On the bright side, I'm sure you'll look great with gray hair."
"Or like an old man."
"I personally find it quite sexy when men start to get the flecks of gray in the facial hair," she offered. "Maybe you should grow a beard again. That was a good look."
"Lori's not a fan," he shook his head. "Although I guess if I were gonna do it, now's a good time…"
"Don't make things worse," she managed to quickly get out before hurling into the commode for the fourth time that morning. And of course the sight of her breakfast regurgitated just made her want to vomit again. "Shit," she sighed, reaching up to flush once more. "This is old already."
"Just keep in mind that there's a person waiting at the other end of all this. And he or she is gonna make it all worth it."
"Right," she exhaled again as she reclaimed her seat beside him. She rested her head against his shoulder, and her tired body followed suit, leaning into him for support, and somehow, he made sitting on the hard tile floor feel comfortable. "We should probably be worried that Carl hasn't said a peep since I told him you were here."
Rick smirked in reply, as she was probably right. Definitely not his finest parenting skills on display at the moment. "Well if you left him with that book, I doubt he even remembers you said it."
"True," she granted, drinking from her water bottle again. She started to speak again, wanting to tell him that she appreciated him being willing to sit there and bear witness to her rather disgusting ailment – what a friend – but she was interrupted by the alarm system chiming, signaling that one of the downstairs doors had opened.
"Is that Carl," Rick wondered, the two of them already simultaneously scrambling up from the floor to check on his son.
Naturally, Michonne was moving slower than her usual, and she retreated from the bedroom just behind Rick, only to find Mike making his way to the foyer of their home. He stopped at the bottom of the steps as his wife came into view, and she sent a strained smile his way, trying not to let on that she was still nauseated, knowing he would try to diagnose her unease. "Hey, baby."
"Hey, babe," he greeted her, unsurprised to see Rick with her, given his car was out front. "Hey, man."
"Hey," Rick nodded, simply relieved his kid hadn't managed to get out of the house.
"Carl's leavin' us already?" he asked.
"Yeah," he drawled, looking back to the room he knew Carl was in. "School starts next Monday, so we've got doctor's appointments and all that all week."
He nodded in cognizance, but couldn't help but notice the curious expression on Michonne's face; especially after hearing the two of them scurrying across the house once they heard the back door open. He'd even called her phone as he drove up, but she was obviously too busy with something to answer. "My shift ended early, so I thought I'd come and try to get a nap and some lunch with you and Carl," he submitted to her blank stare. "And Rick?" he was asking, looking to their friend for his answer. "If you wanna stay…"
As tempting as that sounded, just to get an extra hour or so away from his home, Rick knew that Michonne probably needed to be alone with her husband. "Nah, I'm gonna take Carl and get out of your hair," he declined. "Thank you guys for entertaining him all weekend."
"Anytime," Michonne responded emphatically. She didn't want her pregnancy to keep him from calling her if they needed her to take him. "You know he's no trouble."
"We haven't done our doubles thing in a while," Mike suddenly remembered as he stared up at the two of them; how they looked like a couple standing side-by-side and he was the third wheel here. "We should do dinner or lunch sometime. If Lori's up for it."
Michonne frowned at her husband's suggestion, knowing she'd informed him of Rick and Lori's current marital woes. "We should do a big cookout for Labor Day," she said instead. "Invite everyone…"
Rick nodded, but he was ready to get out of there before Mike could insist on his idea instead. They used to have regular double dates, but the more they all settled into their careers, the less those happened, and he was okay with that. Especially now, when he and Lori weren't doing so great. "Just let us know."
"Well it was good to see you," Mike nodded back. "Hopefully, next time, I'll be here, too."
Rick's eyes narrowed, wondering whether his bad mood was interpreting him the wrong way, or was Mike the one being an asshole? His wife was standing there sick, and he'd yet to notice, but he obviously hadn't taken too kindly to them being upstairs together. "Yeah, hopefully," he answered as neutrally as he could before walking away.
February 2014.
It just after 11:00pm as Rick walked into his warm home – cautiously, that is, as the quietness told him that likely everyone inside it was asleep. His body and mind were drained, having been up for a couple of days straight, but force of habit sent him meandering into the kitchen to find… something. Whatever it was, he was certain it wouldn't be in the refrigerator, but it was the better than the option of heading upstairs to be alone with his thoughts.
"Rick?"
"It's me," he softly called back, knowing it was Michonne. He grabbed himself a Capri Sun and shut the fridge door before going toward the sound of her voice in the dark house. He found her in the living room with a sleeping Judith splayed across her lap. "Sorry I didn't say anything," he greeted her. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was drifting off," she admitted with a small smile, keeping her voice low. "What are you doing here?"
"Dr. Harvey sent me home," he sighed, pulling off his coat. "She said I can't do anything 'til Lori's out of recovery, so I should get some rest."
Michonne nodded, but she knew Rick was going to do anything but. He hadn't slept in days – months, when it came to good sleep – so sending him home wasn't going to do much good. "Come sit then," she suggested, patting the space beside her. "You do look terrible."
"Oh, thanks," he smirked, following her instruction. "How long has she been out?"
"I think around the third showing of Frozen, so a couple hours ago," she nodded. "Carl went upstairs around 8:00, and Andre went with him when he realized Judith wasn't kidding about watching this movie all night."
Rick chuckled genuinely at the tidbit, as the kids seemed to be the only joy they'd experienced around there the past few months. "They were good?"
"As always."
"Shane said he'd take them to school and pick 'em up tomorrow, so we can both be at the hospital," he yawned, beginning to kick off his shoes.
"You told me that this morning," she reminded him with a small smile. "You said Carl has a late day, so you were gonna take him to the hospital first…"
"Shit," he chuckled again, accepting that he was finally losing what was left of his mind. It felt like the world stopped when they got Lori's breast cancer diagnosis, and he was no longer sure of what was real versus whatever fiction he had in his head. Because once his wife got sick, he wished it was all some bad dream he could wake up from.
"Maybe we shouldn't talk," she suggested, her voice rather thick with grogginess herself. "You should at least try to sleep."
"I should take Judith up first," he agreed, forcing himself from the comfortable sofa cushions. "You need anything while I'm up?"
"Yeah, could you turn up the heat?"
"Michonne, it's hot as hell down here," he whispered, carefully retrieving Judith from her lap. "You need to get that checked out."
"I think you're the one that needs to get checked out," she shot back. "It's freezing."
"All right," he relented, holding onto his lightly snoring daughter. "I'll be back."
She watched with a sympathetic smile as he shuffled off to the kitchen before the two of them disappeared from her sight. She noticed the juice pack left behind on the couch and decided to take it for herself, figuring Rick wouldn't mind, though not particularly caring if he did. She would've preferred alcohol, wanting it to numb her worried mind, but she was too tired to get up and find any. She sucked down the cherry juice all at once as she stared at the blank TV, waiting for Rick to return. Thinking of Lori and what kind of pain she must've been in at that moment. Chemo, now surgery, then radiation soon after. It was unrelenting. And unfair. Just watching it happen, standing by her side as she went through it all was harrowing enough – she could only imagine what it must have felt like.
She picked up her phone to torture herself by looking through pictures of the two of them, but paused as she took note of the time and date. 11:24 on Thursday, February 13. In other words, 36 minutes from her 37th birthday. "Fuck," she whispered to herself. She'd already decided she didn't care about her birthday this year – not that she ever did much, not after the big 3-0. On one hand, it felt especially pointless during this dark time in their lives, but on the other, maybe now was the time to celebrate life instead of ignoring it as it passed them by.
"You know what I just realized," Rick declared, returning to the living room with his arms full. "It's your birthday tomorrow."
She chuckled at the way they so often managed to think the same things at the same times. "And Valentine's Day," she submitted as if he didn't know. She accepted the blanket he handed over, as well as a sweatshirt that she recognized as his. "What's all this?"
"If you're still cold after you put on that, I'll turn up the heat."
"You can't even gift me with heat on my birthday?" she teased, immediately pulling the sweatshirt over her head. Settling in the oversized fabric as she inhaled the almondy scent. His scent.
"Did you just drink my Capri Sun?" he questioned, noticing the shriveled packet sitting on the coffee table. "Seriously?"
She gazed back at him innocently as she continued to wrap the lower half of her body in the fleece blanket he'd provided. "How about we call it even?"
"So we're starting 37 on a mature note, I see."
"Oh, shut up," she giggled. She hated to admit it, but she did feel rather cozy at that point. "What time are we going to the hospital?"
"She said they'll probably send Lori to her room around 8:00, so I figure we can head back at about 6:00."
"Got it." She laid herself across her side of the couch, resting on her back as she let out a long yawn and then quickly set her phone's alarm for 5:30 before letting it fall to the cushion beside her. "Good night."
"Now wait a minute," he said, lifting his hips from the couch to retrieve a treat from his back pocket. "I don't know about good, but... I can make it better."
Michonne frowned at his statement, wondering what he was insinuating, and her eyes panned up to him until she realized he was holding something over her face. A joint, to be exact, proffered between his fingers, which made her laugh. "Oh my god," she grinned, taking it from him to examine.
"Happy birthday to you," he smiled back, handing over a lighter, too. He repositioned onto his back as well, the two of them lying head to head, their feet dangling from each end of the couch. "I didn't get you anything, so…"
"Asshole," she joked, carefully lighting up over Rick's sweatshirt. "Are we sure it's a good idea to smoke up Lori's stash?"
"I doubt she'll even notice," he smirked, shaking his head. "We've got plenty."
"Oh, is that so?"
"I mean… not, like, felonious amounts," he amended, realizing he was talking to an officer of the court. "Don't worry."
"Well you're white and rich, so I wasn't particularly worried," she grinned, taking a quick toke before passing it up to him. "But I'm glad you've put some thought into it."
"I feel like all I do is think nowadays. My mind… my brain is just… full. Constantly."
Michonne nodded with understanding, knowing that nearly everything Lori was going through, he was experiencing, too. And on top of it, taking care of the kids and the house through it all. "I don't know how you do it."
"Without you, I don't think I could," he admitted, his eyes darting up in her direction. He took two quick puffs and handed it back to his friend. "I hope you know that."
"I do. But it's nice to hear."
"I guess I don't say thank you enough," he recognized with a small sigh, already feeling the drug seeping into his body. "I'm always worried it sounds trite after a while. Especially when I know you're not doin' it for me."
"I'm not," she smiled to herself. "And I don't want you to thank me for every tiny thing," she confirmed for him. She stared at the weed in her hand for several seconds, her mind already seeming to slow in response to it. "But like i said, sometimes it's nice to hear what you mean to someone."
"Well I could go on," he offered, smiling at the sound of her voice. It always managed to soothe him, even on his worst days.
"Please don't," she giggled, already blushing at the thought. "Like I said, I already know."
"Mmm." He chuckled again as he began to brush his hair from his face, only to realize that it was hers. "Jesus, I think it's hit me already."
"Lightweight."
"I won't deny that," he grinned at her mocking. "You remember Amsterdam?"
"Oh my god," she immediately started laughing, which caused her to cough from the smoke. "I thought you guys were dying."
"Shit, I thought I was, too. I was seeing triples, everything looked like a kaleidoscope…"
"And you and Shane walking into traffic..."
"Lori swore up and down we were on mushrooms."
"I remember her texting me, mad at you because you were too far gone to have sex. And I basically replied, 'Well, sucks for you. Good night!'"
Rick laughed heartily in reply as he took the marijuana cigarette back from her. "I didn't know that," he returned thoughtfully before inhaling.
"Probably because you were too high," she giggled. "But that was the only reason we wanted to try it."
"For sex?"
Michonne nodded, ignoring the fact that he couldn't see her. "We were told by a certain saleswoman that it would be mindblowing."
"Hmm." He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about how he'd obviously missed his chance to find out. "And was it?" he decided to ask her.
"Oh god," she sighed longingly. "It was… yeah. Mike ate me like a birthday cake," she grinned. "Might be the best orgasm I've ever had."
Rick nearly fell off the couch as he laughed at her, smoke billowing from his mouth as he did. His mind involuntarily went to places he wasn't ready for, imagining his head buried between Michonne's thighs as he ate her like said birthday cake. He pushed the image out of his head just as quickly as it came, but the damage had been done. "Jesus," he whispered, rubbing his forehead. "Why'd I ask that?"
"I don't know," Michonne shook her head, unsure why she decided to be so candid. "But it feels good to talk about something other than sad shit."
"Feels good to talk to you," he agreed, passing back her birthday gift. "We never just shoot the shit anymore."
"That's literally all we do, Rick," she chuckled.
"I mean just me and you," he maintained. "When's the last time it was just the two of us? No spouses, no kids…"
She quickly racked her brain, searching for the last instance the two of them hung out without any purpose. Not doing a favor, or because she was there waiting for Lori. "That time we went to Flying Biscuit," she declared excitedly. "That was like October, right?"
"Of 2012, Michonne."
"No way."
"I promise you."
"My god, where is the time going," she sighed. "We do need to hang out more."
"I'm glad you agree," he smirked in reply. "You know the house next door is empty now. You could move right in."
She lifted her head to look at him, only getting an eyeful of his cascading curls. But she appreciated that he wanted her so close. "Now you know damn well I'm not leaving Buckhead for you."
"Yeah, I guess I do know that," he granted, shrugging to himself. "But I figured it was worth a shot."
Their conversation diminished into comfortable silence as they continued to pass the marijuana back and forth until they were sufficiently intoxicated by it. Managing, for a small slice of time, to ignore all the things weighing them down at the moment. For the first time in three months, Rick wasn't consumed with the idea of this surgery and in general, this illness that had come and claimed his wife – and their home right along with it. The respite was nice. It was needed.
"I'm pretty sure my marriage is over," Michonne declared quietly. Her voice was so low, her mind so hazy, she wasn't entirely sure she'd said it out loud. She wasn't sure she meant to. But as she heard Rick shift, she knew the word was out.
"What?" he asked, hoping he'd misheard.
"I don't think I wanna be married to Mike anymore," she repeated. It was the second time she'd said it out loud, the first time being offhandedly to her mother, who didn't even want to entertain the notion. But this was the first time Michonne recognized just how much she meant it; how deeply she felt it.
"Did somethin' happen?" Rick wondered worriedly. The evenness of her tone told him this wasn't sudden for her but rather something she'd been thinking about for a long time. But maybe it was the drugs talking for her.
"No, nothing specific. Not since…" Her words trailed off, not wanting to rehash old news. Mike's malpractice accusations nearly ruined everything for him, and therefore, them, and they were simply lucky it hadn't. But it remained a time in her life she didn't like to revisit. "I mean, it's just… there's been a disconnect lately."
"That doesn't mean it's over," he gently suggested. "Maybe you just have to fight harder."
"Maybe so," she relented, as it was clear he didn't understand what she was trying to say. Which was probably for the best, considering everything they had going on. Last thing he needed was her problems on his plate, too. "I'm exhausted. Ignore me."
"I will never ignore you, Michonne," he said seriously. He ran his hand through his hair until he reached the ends and his fingers were grazing her locs. As he lightly, absently twirled one between his fingertips, he thought of their long, winding friendship. His mind flashed to another moment they'd shared on a couch, and back then, he would've given anything to hear her say she was leaving Mike. They'd been through a lot together, from friends to almost-lovers to almost nothing, back to friends again. And as much as he used to wish they could be more, he wouldn't have traded their history for anything. "Never again."
Present day.
:: Can we talk after dinner? ::
Michonne watched her phone, waiting apprehensively for those three famed dots to pop up on Rick's side of the iMessage to indicate that he was responding to her. Instead, she was left staring at their last exchange from the night before, him asking her to join him for a dip in the pool. She'd spent much of her day thinking about what happened in that pool, how things seemed to take a left turn right off of a cliff. It forced her to consider their relationship as a whole, and why she seemed to be sabotaging any forward movement within it. Because Rick was right – it was her. Mostly. And she hadn't come to any full conclusions, but she knew that she wanted to fix it. She needed to fix it before it was too late.
"Where do you want me to put these?"
Startled from her thoughts, she retreated from her closet to find Carl standing in her room with an armful of her freshly washed sheets. "You can just put them there," she nodded to the foot of her bed. "You finished all the guest stuff?"
"And put them away where you told me to," he confirmed.
She gazed at him, skeptical, but impressed at how helpful he'd been all day. "I would've wished for rain sooner if I knew this would be the result."
"Well, Dad told me to make myself useful, so…" he shrugged, taking a seat at the edge of the bed to start on folding the latest set of linen. "It was either this or do school stuff, which I definitely don't wanna see until January third."
"Of course," she chuckled, stepping back into her closet to glance at her phone. "You can wait to fold those later," she instructed, pulling her hair into a high ponytail. "Dinner is just about ready."
"Oh."
"By the way, they're saying it's gonna get pretty bad, so you may have to find another way to be useful tomorrow."
"Really?" he asked, clearly worried by the thought. "Like hurricane bad?"
"Tropical storm-ish," she countered, grabbing her phone before coercing him out of the room ahead of her, her free hand rested on his back. "Not terrible, but the power tends to go out. We may have to congregate downstairs through the worst of it."
"So no horseback riding tomorrow either, I guess."
"I'm afraid not, my friend," she pouted for him. "Maybe Friday."
"This week is going by too fast," Carl exhaled disappointedly. "We're gonna be leaving before we know it."
"Yeah," she sighed. "There always comes that point in the vacation when you realize you have less time than more." She realized the same could be said about life, and she was fast approaching that point in hers, god willing she lived to be at least 90. And she was wasting it by not doing exactly what she wanted. "You just have to make the most of the time you do have."
He nodded, taking her point into consideration, but couldn't help but think of how much he was going to hate leaving Michonne again. He didn't realize how much he'd missed her – and missed having a mom – until they were back with her. "It'd be cool if we could just stay," he smiled at the thought.
"If who could stay where?" she frowned.
"Us," Carl chuckled. "Me, my dad, Judith. We could live down here with you and Andre."
Her eyebrows knitted with confusion as she realized he sounded serious about this. "You don't wanna live in Atlanta anymore?"
"I do… or I would. I don't really care," he shrugged. "But I can tell my dad likes it here more. He's… happier."
She inwardly smiled at the notion, as she could see where that was true. She was happier with him there, too. Before last night, anyway. But she wasn't sure that was realistic. Which she was coming to understand was part of the reason she was so resistant. "Even if that's the case, I don't think he wants to pull you and Judith out of school all of a sudden. There's no Woodward Academy here," she reminded him. "Your grandparents, your friends..."
"You and Carol could homeschool me and Judith too," he suggested, following her down the steps. "My grandparents could come visit. They'd love it here."
"Carl…"
"Or maybe I could stay with Shane and Andrea until I graduate. I dunno," he admitted. "I just know my dad needs to be here."
"And he would just leave his business?" she pressed, smiling at him knowingly. "You know he can't leave Shane to run everything."
The two of them laughed at the mere thought of that, but her smile faded as they made it downstairs and she noticed Rick sitting in the lounge with Jessie. They weren't interacting, but seeing them sitting there was more jarring than she wanted it to be. Perhaps because she'd spent the last five minutes staring at her phone waiting for an answer that wasn't coming.
"You're right," Carl replied, oblivious to her irritation. "I don't know what the answer is, but I just know it's gonna suck leaving."
"Yeah," she replied distractedly, continuing into the kitchen to check on her dinner creation. Carol and Jenny were already there, apparently sampling the product, but she was too sidetracked by then to care.
"Hey, lady," Jenny greeted her cheerfully, her mouth full of stew. "You look like outside." Which was meant to say gloomy.
"I have a headache," she lied, running her hand over her forehead for added effect. "Carl, do me a favor and tell everyone dinner is ready."
"Sure," he nodded, turning around just as he made it into the kitchen.
"Can you guys help me set the table?" she requested of her friends.
"Already done," Carol submitted with a smile. She could tell Michonne had been just a little bit off all day, but she wasn't sure why. "You're not alone here," she added as a gentle reminder.
Michonne nodded, taking a deep breath. She had this insane habit of stressing herself out, and she thought being in Anguilla had quelled that. But the situation, being back with these people who knew her better than anyone, she kept reverting back to her old ways. "Thank you," she whispered, squeezing her friend's arm. With that, she commenced with splitting the stew between two serving dishes and gathering ladles as she heard the chatter of her guests as they made their way into the dining room.
"Smells good."
She felt her stomach drop at the mere sound of Rick's voice, and she hated the way she became the 20-something version of herself – a girl with a crush – whenever he got too close these days. "Thank you," she answered coolly, managing not to show her hand. But she turned back to him and all of that ego flew out of the window at the sight of his face. "I thought you were ignoring me," she confessed.
His brows briefly furrowed, wondering why she would think that; but given their history, he couldn't say he didn't understand. "I told you I wouldn't do that again."
She looked him up and down, scanning his body for his phone, determining it was in the front left pocket of his shorts. She stepped up to him, brazenly pulling it from his pocket to check for herself, finding her text still sitting on his home screen, along with a couple of others. "It wasn't that long ago, so I guess I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt," she smirked, showing him the message.
He smiled at the fact that she wanted to talk after dinner. He'd stopped by the kitchen to ask her the same, hoping that their day apart was enough space. He wasn't sure that he could take much longer. Not when they had so little time left. "I'd like that," he responded softly, nodding slightly.
"Good." She let out a visible sigh of relief before turning back to the rest of the kitchen. "Now take my food out to the dining room."
Rick chuckled at her instruction, but he was quick to stick his phone back into his pocket and do as told. Also happy that whatever transpired, or didn't transpire, the night before wasn't the end for them. The last thing he wanted was for them to conclude this perfect vacation on a bad note. He'd come there looking for closure, but he was on the cusp of starting something new; finally continuing this 20-year love story, and he was scared that one bad night was going to ruin it all. He couldn't take that chance again.
"All right, everyone," Michonne declared as she sauntered to the table, surveying it a final time as she placed small bowls in front of Andre and Judith. "You're all welcome to get started."
"This looks bomb," Sasha gleefully commented, doing a little dance in her seat as Rick placed one of the serving bowls in front of her.
Conversely, Judith looked a bit dubiously as she stared at the brown contents from her side of the table. "Auntie, what is this?" she decided to ask.
"It's fish stew, sweetie."
"It's good," Andre assured his buddy with a confident nod. "Mommy doesn't make anything bad."
"Damn right," Shane agreed, helping his wife into her seat. "I don't even wanna think about having to go back home to regular food."
"Can't go back to eating Chipotle every day after this," Tara submitted, already serving herself. "Been here two days and I'm already ruined."
"You guys are very kind," Michonne smiled bashfully as she claimed her seat between Andre and Andrea. Rick took the seat in front of her, which made her happier than she wanted it to. But as he conspicuously stared at her, she wondered if that wasn't the best idea. "What?" she mouthed to him, frowning.
"Where's your phone?" he whispered beneath the other table conversations.
Confused, she pulled her phone from her back pocket, recognizing that she'd managed to miss a message from him in the span of the last two minutes. She nodded, recognizing how quickly the tables had turned on her, but momentarily set down the phone to serve her son first.
:: I thought about texting you all day,
but I didn't know what to say ::
"I hope everyone's okay with wine tonight," she announced to the table as she noticed the bottles being passed around. "It pairs better with fish than hard liquor."
"Mommy, what does wine taste like?" Andre asked.
"It tastes like… something you can't have until you're eighteen."
The large table laughed in response as Tyreese suggested, "You oughta let him try some," he pointed to her glass. "My dad let us have beer when I was about his age and I hated it."
"To this day, I don't drink beer," Sasha appended with a nod.
"Shane's dad did the same with us," Rick happily recalled, gesturing across the table to his best friend. "I think we were ten?"
"Yeah, he let us drink and try a cigarette," Shane chuckled.
"Jesus," Andrea shook her head. "Don't even think about trying that with our kids."
"If nothing else, it's effective," Jessie offered. "Kill the curiosity."
"Yeah, I didn't drink again until college," Tyreese concurred.
"So you guys are saying I should've tried alcohol by now?" Carl asked the group before looking to his dad.
"You can try some wine if you want," Rick casually encouraged him.
"Really?"
"You're on vacation," he shrugged, pushing his own filled glass toward his son. "Live a little."
Carl wasn't sure where this version of his dad had come from – even before his mom died, he wasn't quite this much fun. It only solidified his idea that his dad would be much happier in Anguilla, and it was something he really wanted for him. "I can have this?"
"Go for it," Rick smirked, already knowing he wasn't going to like it.
As Carl took a giant sip of the wine and indeed grimaced at the pungent taste, the entire table laughed in unison at his reaction. And with everyone distracted, Michonne took that opportunity to respond to Rick's message, doing her best to be discreet as she did. If anyone noticed them texting one another, they'd never hear the end of it.
:: "Sorry" would've been a good start
;-) ::
"Hey," Daryl interjected, surveying the table for the person who was supposed to be taking his room. "Where's Mike at?"
"Mike?" Andrea repeated him, looking to Michonne for clarification, as her Mike was the only Mike she knew. "He's coming?"
"He'll be here later," she answered her with a quiet nod.
Abraham looked on, confused, as he'd learned everyone's names by then, and knew none of them were Mike. "Who's Mike?" he questioned loudly.
Michonne sighed, feeling like she couldn't escape him, even when he was nowhere to be found. So much for being free. "He's… my husband."
"Ex-husband," Rick inserted, stealing his wine back as he felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. "...Almost."
"He's here?" Jenny asked, still stuck on the original question.
"He's in Anguilla," Carol answered for her friend, having observed her obvious exasperation on the subject. She also wanted to kick Daryl's ass for revealing something she'd told him in private. "He's here to see Andre."
"So not for reconciliation?" Andrea asked.
"No," Rick replied, annoyed by the mere thought.
"Can we change the subject?" Michonne asked, nervously gulping down some of her own wine.
"Did you guys hear Debbie Reynolds died today?" Tara offered as a conversation starter.
"Just a day after Carrie," Sasha shook her head sadly. "This month has been so terrible."
"This whole year," Andrea nodded, staring blankly into her full bowl. A minute ago, she'd been starving, but now, she just wanted to lie down.
"I'm sorry, but I'm gonna invoke my right as the host to change the subject again," Michonne proclaimed, smiling sweetly as she picked up her phone to view Rick's reply. "Looks like we're gonna be stuck inside for the next 24 hours, so maybe we should come up with something to do with that time."
:: That's funny considering you started
this whole thing. Or maybe I should say
you stopped it. ::
"I hope we have some cards," Jenny posed as more of a question than a statement. "I can play Spades all day long."
"Jen, you know these folks don't play Spades," Morgan chuckled, thinking of how many times he'd unsuccessfully tried to teach his friends the game.
"Shane might be the worst partner I've ever had," Michonne agreed, laughing. "How do you overbid every damn time?"
"I believe that's called ego," Rick joked, also laughing at his friend. "I, however, am quite good at Spades, thank you."
"That's because I taught you how to play," Jenny pointed out proudly. "I don't know what this one did with the rest of y'all, but I just need a foursome."
"Now that sounds like my kinda party," Abraham jovially laughed.
:: Really, Rick? ::
"I wanna learn to play," Jessie cut in, amused by the argument that had started already. "Is it hard?"
"It's not hard," Sasha said, "but when I tell you that Black people don't play about their Spades? You better play right."
"She's not kidding," Andrea co-signed. "It's why I never learned."
"Can't stand the heat, stay out my kitchen," Jenny asserted.
:: Am I wrong? ::
"I hope it's not supposed to rain on New Year's Eve," Tara realized as the day was quickly approaching. "I'm looking forward to this beach party."
"As of now, it's not supposed to," Carol said. She picked up her own phone to recheck the weather forecast. "Tomorrow's supposed to be the worst of it."
"I kinda like the idea of being stuck indoors for a little while," Jessie smiled. "It brings people closer. Makes people actually talk instead of constantly doing things.
:: You're oversimplifying the issue,
yes. ::
"No offense, but I'm about sick of talkin' to y'all," Shane joked. "I haven't seen this much of you people since college."
"First of all, that's a lie," his sister immediately countered him. "And secondly, after those twins come, you're gonna wish for the day you can hang out with your friends."
"She is right about that," Morgan chimed in knowingly. "Kids stop all the fun for a good three to five years, at the least."
"And they take all your money for eighteen," Jenny added.
"Twenty and counting," Carol corrected her.
"And you love it," Shane returned. "Y'all can pretend it's all difficult if you want, but I know each and every one of you wouldn't trade that shit for the world."
"Damn right," Rick admitted, setting his phone back to the table. "There's nothin' like being a parent. These two?" He gestured to Carl and Judith, shaking his head. "They're the best thing that ever happened to me."
:: I don't even know what the issue is.
But it is pretty simple to me. I've
wanted you for half my life. And I think
it's safe to say the feeling is mutual,
right? No matter how much we tried to
ignore it or hide it from Mike and Lori, it
never went away. It was hidden in every
look we exchanged, it was the subtext
of every conversation we ever had. It's
been looming over us forever and I'm just
glad we're finally at a point in our lives
where we can do something about it. So I
don't know what's holding you back now,
but it's not me, Michonne. It's never been
me. ::
As Michonne read the latest text in their exchange, the rest of the conversation became white noise. A distraction from the main event and what really mattered to her – Rick. She stared at her phone and then at him for much too long, barely able to contain herself from responding out loud. He was right – from the day they met and he asked her name with that shy smile and she knew he wanted more than that, up to now, initiating nearly every interaction between them. It had always been her holding them back. But in her mind, she always had good reason.
:: You're right. ::
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he began to discreetly type out a reply. But he noticed that she was amid another response, so he stopped and waited, also checked out of the dinner discussion at that point. He was certain someone would notice, but he didn't really care. They needed to have this conversation.
:: But you also never consider the
consequences of your actions. You
do what you want, when you want,
and forget anyone else who's hurt in
the process, right? ::
:: If that's how you wanna look at it, sure.
But wanting to be happy isn't a bad
thing, Michonne. When have you ever
allowed yourself to be selfish? ::
:: I don't even think I know that word lol. ::
:: I can tell. ::
:: Don't be an asshole. ::
:: I'm not lol. I love that about you. Until it
becomes the reason you start building a
wall between us. ::
:: That's not the only reason I've put up a
wall. Am I scared? Yeah, I can admit that.
After all this time, it doesn't even feel
real. I keep waiting for something to snatch
this away from me, because reality has a way
of crashing down when you least expect it.
And I don't like surprises. So I guess that's
why I want to start this on a clean slate. No
Mike hanging over us. He feels like a weight
sitting on my chest, and I want it off of me
because I feel like I can't move with him there.
I want the woman sitting two seats away from
you to know that she's as invisible to you as I
am to her. It's bad enough you're my best
friend's husband. I just want this to be right.
I don't even know what that means for us, but
I really understand why you don't. We *should*
be scared, Rick. ::
:: Only thing I'm scared of is going another
twenty years without us giving this an honest
try. ::
"Daddy, your food is getting cold," Judith noted with a mouth full of the stew she'd been so hesitant to try. "Try it, it's good."
Disrupted from their increasingly intense conversation, Rick looked to his daughter with a small smile on his lips, taking note of how much she was enjoying her meal. She seemed to enjoy everything about Anguilla, and it wasn't lost on him that having a mother in her life had changed her demeanor entirely for the better. He wasn't the only one that wanted Michonne in his life. They were good together for so many reasons, and he didn't understand why she was hung up on the few small obstacles. But if he could help eliminate any of them for her, he would. "Actually," he cleared his throat, getting the attention of the rest of the table, "I'd like to make a toast."
"We're already eating," Andrea pointed out, as she wasn't particularly interested in stopping.
"I'll make it quick," he promised, not wanting to piss off a pregnant lady – not that one, especially, as she'd been in a bit of a mood the past few days. "I just wanna say something about our remarkable host before I lose the opportunity. Because when you're friends with someone forever, you can forget what they mean to you. They don't hear it enough from the people closest to them because it's often implied. But Michonne, thank you for this incredible week," he said, looking her in the eye as he raised his glass to her and she offered a bashful smile in return. As he knew she would. Because he knew her better than nearly anyone.
"I've been in love with you since the day we met," Rick went on to casually reveal, heads turning and mouths dropping in response. But his gaze didn't leave Michonne's, even as those big browns of hers widened in shock. "And every day since then has been a little bit better because you were a part of my life. To the point where I was mad at you when you decided to leave," he nodded. "Because it felt like you were leaving me. And I was too selfish to really understand why that was okay. Why it was a good thing. Not until I came here and saw what you built, witnessed your new life here. And I realized I was happier to see you happy than I was sad about you not being in Atlanta anymore. You needed to do something for you." His stare was a mixture of playful and earnest, as he knew she was probably reeling from his announcement, but he hoped she understood what he was trying to say; what he was trying to do. "So I want this to mean you'll start doin' more things for yourself, because you deserve… everything you want out of life." He smiled at her warmly, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement. He might regret this in the morning, but for now, he was going after what he wanted. "So I guess all of that was to say that I'm proud of you, Michonne. And here's to you."