A/N: My god, y'all are wild. There've been like 100 reviews since the last chapter?! I don't deserve! And also, maybe I'll make every chapter 11k words? Haha. Seriously, thank you. I fucking love reading your thoughts. You're all so insightful and funny and kind. (Trinrichonnetrash, I literally read your review like twelve times? Jsyk. I love you. (I love you ALL.)) And EternityisEternal, you are spot on once again as it relates to what (also) ties Michonne to Mike, because Blackness does matter. And I know several of us know what it's like to bring the white guy home to the family. It's not the easiest thing in the world. Especially when you have a parent like Michonne's mom, who was looking for a Black roommate for Michonne the second she met Lori. So yeah, that's a wonderful and poignant point, and please ramble always, lol.
Although a lot of necessary things happen here, there's not a ton of Richonne in this chapter, so I'll try to make up for it in the next one. *eyes emoji* Thank you all so, so much for your support. You're amazing. –Ash
13 – Quiet Storm
"I'm sorry," Jessie interrupted, chuckling awkwardly as a comically hesitant round of 'hear, hear's went around the table – all of it in response to Rick's unexpected toast. "Did I miss something?"
"I'd say you've missed about twenty years," Carol answered coolly, rather unsurprised by Rick's admission given what she'd observed on their vacation so far. And having known Rick since he was in elementary school, she felt she knew him fairly well. She was always clear that he loved Lori, but in her mind, they never quite matched. Now, she understood why.
"I feel like I must've missed it too," Andrea raised her hand, "because what the hell?"
Shane looked on quietly as Rick sat back with his drink, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he gazed at the woman he'd just professed his love for. Michonne was to his side, so he couldn't discern her full expression from his angle, but he could only imagine that if Rick just blindsided her, she wasn't going to be particularly happy.
"Daddy," Judith pulled at Rick's shirt, sitting her juice back on the table. "What happened?"
"Dad just told everyone he loves Michonne," Carl explained to her quickly and quietly. Their godmother had yet to speak, and he didn't want Judith's stupid questions to sidetrack her from responding to the bomb their dad just dropped in the middle of the table.
"Well duh," she retorted with a precociousness that only a five-year-old could invoke. "Auntie, I love you, too," she adorably declared.
Michonne had been trying desperately to hold it all together in front of their friends, loath to show her hand here, but Judith and her sweet proclamation almost immediately crumbled her steely resolve into pieces. "I love you too, chickpea," she cooed, grinning at her from across the table.
"I love you too, Mommy," Andre told her, though he, too, was still rather confused about the evening's events, and why everyone looked so dumbfounded by his uncle's toast.
"And I love you too, peanut," Michonne replied, planting a big kiss on the side of his face, much to his dismay. By then, she knew it would look strange if she didn't address what Rick said in some way, but what she wanted to say couldn't be said in front of the kids. "Can I talk to you in private for a second, Rick?"
"Of course," he granted, undeceived by her chipper tone, as he knew he was likely in trouble. But he needed to get the ball rolling somehow – if it were up to Michonne, he was concerned she would stall forever.
"Uh oh," Tyreese chuckled, noting the lack of expression on Michonne's face as the two of them silently made their way toward the steps. "That might not end well."
"Either that, or she's putting on an act and she's about to suck the head off his dick," Andrea mumbled, stuffing her mouth with a giant bite of bread.
Jenny nearly spit out her drink as she overheard the crass comment, but she couldn't disagree. "Ma'am," she exclaimed in amusement. "Because that is precisely what I'd do if that was said about me."
As Andrea and Jenny shared a high five, Shane only shook his head at his wife. "You need help, girl."
"I really do," she concurred with a small smirk. "Carl didn't hear me, did he?"
"I definitely did," the teenager answered from several seats away. "Was trying to pretend I didn't though, thanks."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," she blushed, sipping down her water. "It's pregnancy brain."
"What's been your excuse the other 39 years of your life?" Shane teased her.
"You shut up," she pointed back at her husband. "I've got two kids rolling around in here trying to kill me. I get excuses."
"So nobody is gonna follow them to see what they're saying?" Sasha interjected, seeing the conversation quickly deviating from the main event. "Or am I the only one shocked here?"
"Oh, I was definitely surprised," Morgan answered from behind his napkin as he opened his mouth. "I remember Rick liking her way, way back, but I thought that's all it was."
"That's because you don't pay attention," Jenny told him.
"So what he said wasn't hyperbole?" Tara asked, mostly in the interest of her friend, who looked like she was on the verge of either throwing up or actually going to eavesdrop on them. Possibly both. She could only imagine Jessie's world turned on its axis when Rick announced he was in love with someone else – especially after two whole months of anticipating this trip. "Like, he's literally in love with her?"
"He wanted to date Michonne even before he met my mom," Carl informed her, also in the interest of letting Jessie know that she didn't have a chance here. God, what a relief. "So yeah, I think he meant it literally."
"He told you that, Carl?" Shane questioned.
"A couple days ago," he confirmed with a nod. "I saw them kissing the other day too, but they got interrupted..."
"Michonne is going to kill you and Rick," Carol commented, pointing to the teenager. Loose lips clearly didn't fall far from the tree. "No more wine for you."
As the rest of the table laughed, Carl blushed, as he did feel a little funny after those couple of sips his father allowed him. "I just feel like if the cat is out of the bag, there's no need to keep secrets anymore."
"He's right," Jenny gestured to him tipsily. "You've always been very astute for your age."
Carl smiled appreciatively as he noticed Jessie finish her half-full glass of alcohol in one giant gulp. He was tempted to troll her a little bit more, but Carol was probably right that Michonne was going to kick his ass for revealing as much as he had. "That's really all I know, though."
"That's a lot to take in," Andrea sighed, sitting back from the table with her full stomach. She noticed Daryl at the end of the table, still chowing down as if he didn't care about any of it. Then again, knowing Daryl, he probably didn't. "You've been quiet down there, Mr. Dixon."
"Just mindin' my business," he shrugged. He also got most of the information he needed when he saw Rick and Michonne in the pool the night before, looking like they were either already fucking or damn close to it. Rick's revelation just added a little more context to what he already knew. "Y'all oughta try it."
While the discussion at the table continued, Michonne had taken Rick back to his villa, far enough away that they couldn't be heard, especially over the sound of the relentlessly falling rain. She knew their friends well enough to know they'd try to listen if they could, and Rick had just given them every reason to dive into their business. As soon as they were effectively inside, she cornered him against the door and started talking. "Have you lost your fucking mind?" she whispered at him.
"I haven't," he promised with a quiet, almost nervous chuckle. "I just know—"
"I just told you I don't like surprises," she cut him off to say. "And here you go blindsiding me with this? In front of everyone we know?"
"These are literally our closest friends," he defended, frowning at her response to it all. He thought he was doing what she needed by taking the bull by the horns and letting everyone – namely Jessie – know how he felt. "If we can't trust them, we have no business doing this in the first place."
With that, she backed up a bit, concluding that he was right in that aspect. He had a habit of being right about a lot of things, and it was becoming increasingly annoying. "You're still an asshole," she shook her head. "Did you even realize Carl was sitting there listening to you opine about how you've always loved me? And what he would think that must mean about his mother?"
"Carl was raised by me and his mother," Rick reminded her, his even tone making it sound like he'd considered it beforehand. "He knows that I loved her with everything I had. I still do," he appended. "But this is about us. So what else are you mad about so I can shoot it down?"
"Everything is just so easy to you, huh?"
"You're gonna run out of excuses soon," he nearly whispered, his gaze drinking in her expression.
"Fuck you."
"I'd like to," he smirked. "But I'd rather you stop being mad at me first."
She rolled her eyes at him joking around when she was clearly wasn't in that kind of mood. "I'm not mad," she countered, though she wasn't sure that was true. "I'm just… confused."
"You're scared," he offered, recalling her admission via text and the look on her face that matched it. "Tell me what you're scared of."
"I'm scared of ruining us," she nodded, squarely staring him in those baby blues that seemed so intent on devouring her. She'd seen them a million times by now, and still, every look gave her something different. "We've worked so hard for this friendship, and if this doesn't work out for one of the million reasons it shouldn't… then what? I can't live a life without you in it."
"I'm not goin' anywhere, Michonne. Whether this works or not, how do you think you're gonna get rid of me?"
"You say that. But the reality of the situation is that we live in two different countries, Rick. We have kids that need stability in their lives. Have you even thought about how this plays out, or you just figure it'll magically work itself out?" she pressed. "Because right now, I just see myself getting closer to someone I'm already astonishingly close to. Someone who's gonna leave me in four days, and I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with myself."
"Of course I've thought about it," he returned. "It's all I've thought about for the past week. How I want you; I wanna be with you. And I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen."
"You're gonna move to Anguilla?" she rolled her eyes once more. "Be serious, Rick."
"I would," he quipped, more serious than he'd been about anything in a long time. "Just say you want me here and I will."
"Just say it and you'll leave your whole life behind?" she scoffed. "You're living in some fairytale."
"You did it," he reminded her.
"I did it because my best friend died and my marriage fell apart and it felt like I was suffocating in Atlanta."
"Well maybe it feels like I'm suffocating without you," he said. He was trying to keep his voice low, but the passion behind it wouldn't allow him to. "Maybe… maybe you deserve a fuckin' fairytale, Michonne. We deserve to stop living for other people. Not for your parents, not for Mike or Lori. You put all this weight on your back and won't even let anyone take it off you. I asked if you felt free and I realize now that it'd never even crossed your mind because you can't even fathom it."
"No, I can't," she submitted honestly. "The truth is, I'm still having trouble getting past the part where you're my best friend's husband."
"Your best friend is dead," he argued, his eyes begging her to let Lori go. "My wife is dead. We can love her all we want, but she's not our excuse anymore. She's the reason I understand that life is too short for this… bullshit. You said it would be nice to find someone, and here I am. Our kids are all that should matter, and they love each other. So if this is what you want, you just have to say it. It's not gonna get any easier than that."
Michonne let out a sharp exhale, the sudden urge to cry and scream hitting her all at once. Because he was absolutely right. Yet again. She was so consumed with making sure everyone else was okay with them, she wouldn't allow herself to be. She'd spent twenty years fighting this for that exact reason. She was scared that she didn't know how to stop at this point. "I don't know why I'm like this," she shook her head, wiping at tears before they could fall. "My mom was like this, too," she recalled of her own upbringing. She ran herself ragged taking care of everyone but herself. "I think we often have to be," she added, the realization striking her that 'we' meant women, and specifically Black women, because they often had to be everything. It was so much – too much – to unpack right there. "But I know I don't wanna be in my own way."
Rick nodded, appreciating that this was a deeper issue than either of them probably realized. "Well the first step to fixing the problem…"
She felt her entire body go numb as she realized she was about to take a giant leap into the unknown here. As much as Rick liked to think this was all going to be easy, she knew better, which made these uncharted waters incredibly scary to her. But she also wanted this, wanted him so badly that it consumed her. And running wasn't going to do anything to help that. She would regret it forever if she didn't give this an honest try, as he called it. "I do want it," she whispered, her eyes communicating it even more than her words. "I don't wanna rush it. I have to talk to Andre about all this…" She shook her head, knowing this was probably all so confusing for her little man. "And Mike isn't gonna go quietly into the night, but… I want it. I want you."
"Well I wasn't gonna move to Anguilla tomorrow," he smiled. Relieved to hear her say the words out loud without a litany of excuses attached to it. "But it'll be good to finally be headed somewhere."
She nodded, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch his chest; silence falling over them as the weight of the moment landed between them. They were really doing this. "Wouldn't it be funny if we went through all this and it turned out that we were just completely incompatible sexually?" She wasn't really worried about that possibility, but it was rather funny and also kind of beautiful that they were so inimitably attracted to one another, so certain they had some soul-altering love, but they'd yet to see each other fully naked. Not in the physical sense, anyway. She chuckled at his unamused expression in response. "No?"
"I mean, we've got space and opportunity right now," he joked back. "The kids are downstairs…"
She stared back at him, seriously considering his offer; her eyes settling on his rosy lips as he absentmindedly bit at the bottom one. His chest was so hard beneath her fingertips, she almost couldn't wait to feel him on top of her. And the kids were distracted, after all... But no, she didn't want their first time to be some rushed rendezvous on Rick's countertop, as enticing as that sounded. And the thought of rejoining the dinner table as if nothing happened only made it more tempting. But after all these years, she wanted their first time to be as long as and indulgent as they needed. She wanted it to be special. "As tempting as that is…"
"Yeah, no, we should probably get back," Rick agreed, already imagining what the discussion downstairs must've been. "I'm sure I have some explainin' to do."
"You absolutely do," she smirked, reaching for his hand before they could leave. She liked the idea that she could show affection toward him now without worrying about other people catching them. "I just wish you'd forewarned me about your little announcement so I could've seen Jessie's face as you said it."
"It was as much for you as it was for her," he shrugged. He suddenly felt like he was floating as her skin caressed his when their fingers interlocked. "But she didn't sound thrilled."
"No, I imagine she isn't," Michonne chuckled quietly. "She came here looking for romance, only to find out that the guy she wanted likes someone else."
"He loves someone else."
She smiled at his correction, because that was certainly what Jessie heard. "With the Black girl," she simpered again as she opened the door, thinking about how Jessie had been so gallingly oblivious to their connection. "I know she didn't see that shit coming."
He gave her a sidelong glance as he took note of her modifier. "You think you were invisible to her because of that?"
"I do," she admitted, the two of them meandering down the open corridor as they continued their quiet conversation. The rain outside was so loud, it essentially drowned them out. "Girls in school were always like that when it came to you and me."
"Really?"
"They could only see me as your friend. As if the possibility that you'd be into me was just so remote."
Rick was aware of those types of microaggressions – he'd engaged in many conversations on the subject over the years, mostly with and thanks to Morgan, who taught literal courses on race in America – but he also had the luxury of not having to notice them until they were pointed out. He'd just chalked up Jessie to being obtuse. "Is that what we have to look forward to now?"
"Unless you plan to go around professing your love for me to every stranger we meet."
"I can do that," he grinned, enjoying that they were essentially discussing their future here, even if only jokingly. "Although I was probably gonna do that anyway..."
Michonne smiled back because she knew that he probably would, too. He was good that way. "Come here," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle pull before they could head downstairs. He stopped in place, allowing her to pin him against the nearest wall before going in for a kiss. Her hands cupped his face, her fingers luxuriating in his immaculate beard, before tangling in his curls as her full lips found his. The two of them inhaled one another as their tongues immediately touched and then latched, their tastes and scents melding into one sense. Within seconds, Rick was wrapping his arms around her waist, his right hand palming her soft backside as their kissed deepened. It was a passionate, hopeful kiss – the result of two people finally and firmly on the same page. This was Michonne letting go; doing something for herself.
"She banished you to the kitchen too, huh?"
Rick glanced up from the stove at the sound of Mike's voice, his entire body stiffening as he watched him saunter through the lobby rolling his giant suitcase behind him. He let out a low growl thinking of how the twenty-year thorn in his side was now staying with them. "Hey, Mike," he replied, ignoring his question as much as his own frustration.
"What are you making this time of night?" he asked, noting the saucepan in front of him didn't quite match the nearly midnight hour.
"I'm warmin' up some milk for Andre," Rick answered evenly, not wanting to stir the figurative pot. "The storm kept him up."
Mike simply smirked at his answer, because of course. "Always helpful, huh?"
"Easy to be helpful when you're around to help," he shrugged, using his wooden spoon to swirl the cool milk. "Nice to have you here."
"Is it?" Mike pressed him, knowing that he probably felt the opposite. Had he been in Rick's position, he would've been annoyed to say the least. In fact, he could think of several situations where he had been in similar positions and Rick would show up and ruin things – it pissed him off every time.
"I was being polite," he admitted in response. "But you're right, I didn't mean that."
He nodded as he looked toward the staircase. The place was dark and quiet, almost eerily so. "So I guess this means you're staying with my wife, huh?"
Rick smirked at his unfailing need to pry, constantly asking what was going on with him and Michonne. It seemed to be the opposite of Jessie, who couldn't even see their closeness. Mike was always trying to define it – which he supposed he couldn't blame him for. "I'm not," he said. "Not yet, at least."
"Not yet?" Mike chuckled. "Are y'all not leaving on Sunday?"
"We are…"
"You don't think it's about time to shoot your shot?"
Rick's brows knitted, thinking that a strange statement considering Mike was with Michonne for thirteen years before they got married. Still, he kept his gaze planted in the milk, figuring that wasn't his business. "Ten seconds ago, she was your wife. Now you're encouraging me?"
"I mean, it never stopped you before," Mike shrugged, effectively deciding to throw all his cards on the table. "What's the difference at this point?"
"I don't know what that's supposed to mean."
"It means I've been competing with you for twenty years now, man." When Rick finally looked up at him, Mike smiled a bit sadly, though mostly satisfied as Rick's deer-in-headlights mien replaced the smug smirk he'd been wearing the past few days. He never quite understood what Michonne saw in him, but for a long time, he knew it was something. "I was never good enough after you came along."
"So you've been having a pity party with yourself for two decades over it? That why you stopped trying to be good enough?"
"Oh, I stopped trying? Is that what you two decided?"
"I don't know what Michonne thinks," Rick shook his head. "We don't bother talkin' about you at this point. But I know what I witnessed. I watched her miss you… I watched her cry over you. Mourning her best friend and her marriage at the same time. I watched for years while she loved you, even when you didn't deserve it." His voice went hoarse as he tried to keep from speaking too loudly, even as thunder ominously boomed in the background, but his emotion was so apparent. "She married you for a reason, Mike. And it's not my fault, and it's certainly not Michonne's if you forgot what that reason was. Maybe you never knew it in the first place—"
"She chose me because I was safe," Mike interrupted him to say, nodding as the words came out of his mouth for the first time. He'd had a lot of time to think about this on all those trips overseas, leaving behind his crumbling marriage. He didn't realize he'd chosen his career over his family until it was much too late, but now, he understood that much, at least. "I was the easy choice. We made sense on paper," he explained. "High school sweethearts, making pacts to apply to the same colleges because we were gonna get married. Like we knew anything about anything at eighteen years old," he chuckled. "Then we did the clichéd, complementary majors. Pushing each other through med school and law school. It didn't hurt that her parents loved me, probably more than she did," he intimated with a light scoff. He stared at Rick, knowing they wouldn't have wanted him for their daughter. He had that advantage over Rick, at least. "I know she loved me. She loved making that life we had. But at this point, there's no use pretending I didn't know she would've rather been with you."
"I don't know if that's true," Rick replied, feeling his face flushing as he processed everything he was hearing. "I think if you'd been there, she'd still be with you."
"She probably would," he immediately agreed. "That's the kind of person she is. And I don't know that that's fair to either of us."
"Maybe it's not," Rick sighed. He wasn't sure how to respond to any of this, because in truth, he didn't know what it was like to be on the other side. It can't be easy to love someone that loves someone else. He wondered – he worried now – did Lori spend much of her life secretly feeling similarly? Here they thought they were sparing people's feelings, but in the end, maybe they only made it worse on all four of them.
"Was it junior year?" Mike decided to ask, feeling like he might finally get an honest answer to the questions that'd been weighing on him for so long.
"Nothin' happened," he shook his head, returning to his concoction. "Just… a kiss. But she stopped it."
He nodded, having figured there was something, even if Rick considered it nothing. "I thought it was just because I'd been gone that semester, but nothing was ever quite the same after I came back," he recalled. "At 21, I couldn't piece it all together, but with hindsight… I dunno," he sighed. "It was like she was always looking through me. Probably wishing she could see you."
"Did you ever think about leaving?" Rick wondered. "I mean, for good."
"Like I was ever gonna do better than Michonne?"
Rick chuckled, understanding that sentiment if nothing else. But he'd been left speechless, having run out of fake niceties and sarcastic quips to exchange with Mike. He felt for him in some strange way, even knowing what he'd put Michonne through. He could see where living with that assumption for half your life was no cakewalk either. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry it happened that way," Rick offered, moving toward the cup cabinet to grab the mug with Andre's name on it.
"It's not worth much," he admitted, watching as Rick poured milk for his own son, adding a spoonful of honey in a twist he was unfamiliar with. He supposed he would have to get used to the unusual now. "But I am, too."
Rick simply nodded, the contentious moment having turned awkward. "Well, I should get… back upstairs," he said hesitantly. "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow or… at some point."
Mike nodded too. As much as he hated seeing his family slip between his fingers and firmly into Rick's grasp, it was nice to know that they were being taken care of when he wasn't around. "I know you didn't mean it when you said it, but it is good to be here," he said. "I needed to be here."
"Yeah, you probably did," Rick agreed, as much as he didn't like it either. But Andre deserved to have his father close. If he could've given Judith and Carl their mother back, he would've done it in a heartbeat. And their brief but poignant conversation told him that Mike was slowly accepting what seemed to inevitable. There was a shift happening with all of them, and he realized Michonne probably made the right call in allowing him to stay there. "Well. Good night."
"Yep. Good night."
The eventful night soon turned into day, though darkness continued to loom over the typically vibrant island. Michonne awoke to the unusual sight of Judith's messy blonde curls just beneath her, the five-year-old tucked cozily against her body. And on the other side of the bed, Andre was using Rick as a pillow, which made her smile probably more than it should've. But she was starting to see how all of this fit together; how their family would look once all was said and done, and she liked the picture that she saw. Yawning, she turned to get a glimpse of her clock, only to realize the power had gone out. "Shit," she quietly sighed, unsure of the time.
"I woke up, I think, around 3:00 and it was out," Rick whispered, glancing at his watch when he heard her shift in the bed. "It's 7:15 now."
"Of course it is," she shook her head, staring at the ceiling. "I don't wanna get up."
"I can make breakfast," he offered, peering across the small space between them to gaze at the side of her face. Even in the dullness of a gloomy day, she was radiant. "It'd be good practice."
"Good practice for what?" she smiled over at him, chuckling quietly.
"For when I'm here. When we run this place together."
"Oh, is that what's gonna happen?"
"Well yeah," he returned casually, stifling a yawn as he watched her carefully rearrange Judith so that she slip out of bed. "After the wedding, of course."
"Jesus, Rick," she giggled at all the plans he'd apparently made since dinner. She quietly went to her dresser and found a pair of jeans to throw on over her pajama shorts before making her way to his side of the bed. "In the span of twelve hours, you've gone from zero to sixty to 120, you know."
"Makin' up for lost time?"
Michonne grinned down at him, moving close to run her fingers through his mussed hair. "I'm gonna get breakfast together," she nodded toward the door. "When you get up, I'll show you where all the flashlights and candles are."
"You think the power'll still be out tonight?"
"Yeah, we don't have Georgia Power down here. I've got a generator for the water heater, air, and my refrigerators," she nodded, assuring herself that they'd be okay with that. "Lights aren't exactly the priority for anyone right now."
He understood the logic there, especially given the small size of the island and the fact that most of it shut down during hurricane season for these very reasons. "Maybe we should get you another generator."
"You have 'another generator' money?" she shot back with another smile, knowing she sounded just like her mother.
"Are we really having this conversation?" he asked, hoping so. "Because I do."
She continued to grin at him while her stare shifted to Judith as she briefly stirred. "Not right now," she whispered. Her mind was practically spinning already with all the things she had on it. As they fell asleep the night before, Rick informed her of his illuminating conversation with Mike, so she was certain that was going to be the elephant in some room at some point in the day. And she wasn't sure what she was going to say about any of it. "Give me an hour for breakfast?"
"You're sure you don't need help?"
Michonne leaned in to give him a soft and short kiss, immediately recognizing that she could get used to this kind of thing. Even before they fell apart, she and Mike's schedules didn't allow many opportunities for morning kisses and help with breakfast. "I'll be fine," she promised, happily coiling one of his soft curls around her finger. "I'll commission Carl if I need any extra help."
Rick nodded, licking his lips of the taste of her - he, too, was looking forward to waking up like this. "I'm gonna go back to sleep then."
She smiled, her fingers lingering in his hair for an extra beat before leaving him and their children to a final few minutes of slumber. She grabbed her phone on her way out, sending a quick text to Carl as she continued downstairs. The view from her balcony gave a full scope of just how bad it was outside – the sea practically roaring, fragments of palm trees strewn across the beach. It was really putting a damper on the end of their vacation. But she still had a job to do with people to feed, so she headed on down to the main kitchen to get started.
Michonne nearly stopped in her tracks, though, as she reached the lobby only to find Jessie sitting in plain view, silently staring out at the storm. She looked like she was waiting for something – probably an explanation. They'd yet to even exchange glances, much less any dialogue since Rick's confession, and she wasn't exactly prepared for that confrontation now. But there was no use in avoiding the woman, even if she could – the damage was already done. "Hey, Jessie," she opted to casually greet her, doing her best not to startle her as she approached.
Jessie immediately and sharply turned to her voice, surprised to see Michonne standing there. In her mind, she and Rick were somewhere consummating their epic, eyeroll-inducing love story – the thought kept her awake most of the night – and she'd already illogically decided she wouldn't see them anytime soon. "Hey," she returned, listening for footsteps behind her. Still uselessly looking for Rick.
"You okay?" Michonne asked softly, starting toward the kitchen again. "You look… troubled."
"Oh. No, I just… I couldn't sleep," she smiled awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with her. "I came down to read, but I got swept away with watching the weather."
She only nodded, lacking any kind of imaginative reply. "Well, I was gonna try to conjure up some kind of breakfast for everyone," she informed her, "so I'll be in there."
Jessie nodded back, watching Michonne as she walked away, studying everything about her, from the swing of her hair to the sway of her hips. Looking for a reason to hate her beyond her own hurt feelings. She knew it was her own fault for making a lot of baseless assumptions, but she wanted to blame it on Michonne anyway, no matter how irrational. But no, Michonne was practically perfect. Beautiful in a way that other women couldn't really compete with. And she was kind; or better yet, warm. She seemed intelligent but not off-putting. Charming. And on top of it, a mother – his kids' godmother. And on top of that, a lifelong friendship to seal all of that together. Of course Rick was in love with her. "So fucking obvious," she sighed to herself, forcing herself up from her chair. She followed her train of thought to the kitchen, where Michonne had already gotten to work, chopping up pineapples. "You must think I'm such an idiot," she announced, a gloomy smile sitting on her face as she leaned against an open counter.
Michonne looked to her guest, taken aback by her sudden appearance, but didn't show it as she coolly stopped what she was doing. "I don't," she promised, her voice softened by her compassion for this woman. "You liked a guy and… he already liked someone else. Happens to the best of us."
"Says the girl who's had Rick hanging onto her every word for twenty years," she quietly scoffed.
"It wasn't like that," Michonne tried to smile. "It's been a very long, very difficult road to get to a place where he could say that out loud. And I honestly never thought the day would come, so… I mean, I know what that must've felt like, and I'm sorry it happened the way it did. But hurting you wasn't the intention."
Jessie nodded again, believing her. It didn't change the fact that it stung like hell, though. "Why'd you let me sit there the other morning going on and on about how much I liked him? When you knew exactly why he was distant?"
"What did you want me to say?" she shook her head.
"The truth. Some sort of warning? So I didn't go around looking like an idiot."
Michonne started to say something mean, but refrained in favor of her typical diplomacy. "I don't know you," she reminded her gently, "and I didn't think it was my place to burst your bubble that way."
She relented with another nod, absently chewing at her bottom lip and flashing one of her dimples. "It should've been Rick," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then, I was presumptuous, I guess," she admitted, shaking her head. "Pete used to love repeating that whole 'ass out of you and me' mantra about assumptions. I used to think it was bullshit, but…"
"There's that," she smiled, going back to her task as she realized the minutes were ticking away. "But I can also see why you did."
Her tired eyes widened as she stared at Michonne, a hopefulness in her voice as she asked, "You can?"
"If a single guy I'd been spending time with asked me on vacation, I think I'd make some assumptions."
"Right?" Jessie maintained, relieved to hear that she wasn't completely out of her mind. She needed to hear that. "But I guess I was so shocked when he asked me, I didn't stop to think about why. I didn't consider, 'Hey, you guys have never really talked about anything besides your kids. Maybe this isn't a romantic thing.' I just… got my hopes up," she chuckled ruefully. Michonne's sympathetic stare only made her feel worse, but she went on anyway. "I know I told you my ex is an asshole. I didn't mention the part where he used to beat the shit out of me, mostly because I've learned to hide it well. But I think I would've died if I hadn't gotten out of there…"
"Jessie…" Michonne whispered, dropping her knife back to the cutting board. She instantly felt sorry for the woman in front of her, but also wondered if this was perhaps too much information for mere acquaintances. She decided against expressing that, though, understanding that Jessie probably needed to get this off her chest. This was likely what Carl saw in her that he didn't like – her trying to hide all this pain. "I'm so sorry."
"No, it's okay," Jessie shook her head. "I did get out of there. And as fate would have it, I moved in next door to this… perfect guy. Incredibly handsome and sweet. An attentive dad. I thought God was answering my prayers. Or paying me back for all the shit I endured," she chuckled again, this time at how silly it all sounded out loud. "Isn't that ridiculous?"
"I dunno," Michonne returned sadly. She wasn't sure what to say to her in light of this revelation. Normally, she would've allowed her guilt over it to send her running from Rick yet again. But she wasn't going to do that now – she'd waited too long for this. So all she had to offer Jessie was compassion. "You were looking for something," she said. "After what I can only imagine you've been through… there's nothing ridiculous about that."
"And then you make it impossible to hate you," she smirked. "God…"
"It's okay if you hate me," Michonne said softly. "I actually really enjoy the honesty between us."
"No, I'm being honest. I sat up most of the night just… stewing in my own confusion and misery. But at the end of the day, you didn't do anything wrong."
"I've done a lot of things wrong," she replied with wistfulness in her tone. "I don't even know what this turns into for me and Rick, but I can't pretend I don't want this. Badly. And you don't have to pretend you're okay with that."
"You should want it," Jessie encouraged her. "You should enjoy this. Guys like Rick don't come along every day," she said, then immediately realized Michonne probably knew that better than anyone. "I'm guessing you've been in love with him for just as long?"
"Nearly," she admitted with an almost indiscernible nod. "I was with Mike at the time, so he went for Lori. But there was always… something there."
"That's beautiful, but also kind of sad."
"It is," Michonne knew. Every time she admitted it out loud, she was reminded of that. "We let it fade into the background for the most part, but being here together just sort of pushed it all to the surface. Can't ignore it anymore."
Jessie nodded as she stared at Michonne, inwardly trying to decide whether to be kind to this woman who'd stolen the man that never belonged to her. "You probably haven't had much time alone with two little kids running around."
"We've stolen a few moments," she shrugged, though they were never quite enough. "Luckily, we've got about eight babysitters around if we really need them."
"Nine," she offered, raising her hand. "I mean if you wanna go out. Or even stay in, maybe for New Year's Eve." She figured the rest of the group would have their own plans with their significant others, but she was sure to be wide open that night. "Of course, who knows what the weather will be like, but I'd be glad to watch the kids either way."
"You really don't have to do that," Michonne smiled gratefully.
"It's what I'm good at," Jessie smirked again. Thinking of how Rick reminded her of that the night before, thanking her for her service; explaining that that was why he'd invited her on an island vacation. "I'm trying to be mature here. Please let me be."
Michonne laughed genuinely in response, truly enjoying the candor between them. In some other life, she could've seen them being friends. An alternate version of her friendship with Lori, where she's totally transparent about being in love with Rick. That sounded nice, in fact. "I'll think about it," she said seriously. "I will."
"You know, I didn't think I would enjoy this," Sasha declared as she slowly rearranged the collection of cards in her hand. "But it's kinda fun being stuck inside with y'all."
"That's because you're drunk," Jenny noted, waiting for her play. "I'm sittin' here worried that these two are gonna climb on top of the table at any minute now," she added, referring to the newly-revealed lovebirds sitting adjacent to them.
Michonne broke her gaze – or perhaps daze was more appropriate – with Rick as she heard her friend's dig. "That's very funny," she smirked, gently kicking her leg. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"If you're trying to play footsie, you've got the wrong person."
"Shut up," she giggled, shaking her head.
"And if you're tryin' to imply someone's distracted, you should be talkin' to your partner," Rick submitted as they continued to wait for Sasha to take her turn. "I thought I was slow."
"You are," Michonne quipped.
"Are we not winning?"
She immediately yielded, as there was no denying that. Not that she needed any more proof, but him being a good Spades partner boded well for their relationship. "You right."
He chuckled as he sipped on his rum, while the three of them stared at Sasha impatiently. His gaze began to scan the full room for the kids, finding their quietness suspicious, especially considering he owed them a game of Go Fish, but he ended up smiling to himself as he noticed them in a corner, reading by candlelight. "This feels like a lock-in," he commented, also noticing the Monopoly game going on across the foyer. "You guys remember those?"
"What you know about lock-ins?" Jenny chuckled, relieved when Sasha finally threw out a card.
"Am I not supposed to know about them?"
"Oh, I just thought that was a Black thing," she shrugged.
"I don't even know what that is," Michonne interjected, feeling like she'd missed something, "so I don't think it is."
"We used to do them at our church, which was very Black," Sasha recalled with a giggle. "That's where all the sins were committed."
"We had 'em in high school, but it was the same," Rick agreed, shaking his head at the thought. "It's basically a big co-ed slumber party where you're 'locked in' the building."
"Oh, well that doesn't sound like asking for teenage pregnancy or anything," Michonne chuckled. "Jesus."
"That's probably why you don't hear about 'em anymore," Jenny nodded. "God knows I didn't have any business engaging in half the shit I did at those things."
"I'm pretty sure I gave my first handjob at a lock-in," Sasha whispered before laughing at herself.
"Bitch, in church?" Michonne nearly yelled as the rest of the table joined in on the laughter. "Is this what you did?" she asked of the remaining two.
Jenny shrugged innocently, looking over to Rick as he took another sip of his drink before clearing his throat. "Mine wasn't a hand job, but… yeah," he admitted, starting to blush – thankfully, the dim room masked his change in color.
Michonne's eyes widened with recognition as she laughed, both flabbergasted and enjoying that even after all these years, there were still things she had to learn about Rick. "I didn't realize I was sitting with a bunch of heathens."
"Oh, I don't think you wanna start handing out morality lessons," Jenny smirked at her knowingly.
"I know you're not talking about me," she playfully dismissed her before chugging down some of her margarita. "I was with the same person for damn near my whole life."
"Oh, I'm sorry, were you secretly married to Mike when you were suckin' on his dick in public places?"
"Jennifer!" Michonne shrieked, inadvertently spitting her drink from her mouth while Rick and Sasha cackled along with her.
"Whenever we went to our usual bar," Jenny went on to explain to Sasha, "the two of them would always 'sneak' off to the bathroom like nobody was supposed to notice," she teasingly rolled her eyes. "Doctor Mike had his own head doctor."
"I hate you so much," Michonne continued giggling, feeling warm from the alcohol and the embarrassment. "But at least it wasn't in church."
Rick simply looked on in amusement as he tried his best not to let his mind wander. But the thought of Michonne and those absolutely perfect lips of hers sucking him off was impossible to resist. "I think I need another drink," he sighed, resting his emptied glass on the table.
"You better pace yourself," she warned, gazing at him cheekily. "We've got a game to win."
"Don't worry, I got this."
Michonne felt herself get a little tingly at the confidence in his twang and she realized maybe she was the one that needed to slow it down. Then again, she always felt that way with Rick. He was right about the sexual tension between them never fully dissipating. Now that it was becoming a reality, she sometimes felt like she was going to explode. "Maybe I should get refills," she offered, beginning to push back from the table. "Should we do a quick break?"
"I didn't wanna say it, but I was starving," Sasha confessed.
"We just ate like an hour ago."
"Which is why I didn't wanna say it," she shot back, already leaving her seat to find the buffet of food waiting in the dining room.
Michonne followed suit, collecting their glasses before leaving Rick with a quick shoulder caress. Smiling happily to herself as she made her way into the kitchen, which was a mess compared to the spotless space she usually kept. But if anything was proof that she was learning to let loose, it was the fact that she didn't care. Mixing her cocktails as she listened to the laughter that echoed throughout the floor. The mood was so light despite the darkness. Moments like this were precisely why she'd moved to Anguilla. They were also a reminder that she would miss the hell out of these people when they went back to Atlanta.
Set to rejoin her friends, she stuffed her mouth with a handful of plantain chips before grabbing their drinks. But on her way back, passing the pool, she noticed the familiar figure of her ex sitting solitarily on the veranda; not unlike the way she found Jessie earlier, staring into oblivion. Looking lonely, despite being surrounded by a compound full of people. She'd invited him there so he wouldn't have to feel excluded, but her anger with him hadn't allowed her to actually include him. With a sigh, she set down her drinks and went to the front door to bother him. "Are you brooding?" she asked loudly, the heavy rainfall still nearly drowning out her voice. "You know you shouldn't be out here."
Mike immediately chuckled, because he knew from just those three words and their brazen tone that she'd been drinking. "Not at all. Just… observing." Hearing her footsteps approach, he turned and watched as she took a seat on the steps with him, surprised by the gesture. "Even covered in rain, this place is really beautiful," he commented, surveying the gloomy scene.
She wasn't sure it was appropriate to thank him, as she had nothing to do with the beauty of the island. "It makes me happy," she eventually said, agreeing.
"You are happy here, huh?" he noted, glancing back at her. Even now, with all her undoubtedly detailed plans for the week ruined, she looked happy as a clam. He wasn't used to seeing her like this anymore. "When you said what you were gonna do, I thought you'd lost your mind."
"I know you did," she smirked, watching as heavy raindrops pounded into her pool. "Everybody did."
"Not everyone," he sent back, shaking his head. "My mama thought it would be good for you."
"She didn't tell me that," Michonne frowned, thinking back to the last conversation she'd had with her mother-in-law before leaving. "She seemed disappointed, actually."
"Her disappointment wasn't with you," he chuckled quietly. Glumly. "You know you could do no wrong in her eyes."
"Her favorite child," she grinned, recalling all the times Ava Boykin playfully insulted her biological children in favor of her daughter-in-law. "That's nice to know," she nodded appreciatively. "I never wanted anyone to think my leaving was a reflection of how I felt about them."
"Except for me, huh?" he smirked.
"See, I knew you were out here sulking," she poked his back as she laughed.
"Nah, I came to terms with that a long time ago," he smiled back at her. "I mean, I thought you were just running away. Figured you'd get bored and come back home. But when you didn't..."
"Well I was running away," she could admit. "After everything that happened, not just with you, but with Lori, I didn't want my life anymore. But you should've known me well enough to know that when I commit to something, I do it."
"Yeah, I guess that's true," he granted, thinking of how she committed to even him for much longer than she probably should've. "Wishful thinking, I guess."
"You're the one that ran away from your marriage," she appended, knowing it was harsh to say. But she was too inebriated to mince words at the moment. "And I waited, like a dumbass, for you to get bored and come back home."
"I wasn't the same after Mrs. Blake," he was also willing to confess, referring to the worst moment of his career, resulting in malpractice allegations and general fall from grace. "I spent too much time trying to recover from that, and not enough on you and our son. I found something I was good at, and I stopped caring about anything else."
She scoffed, wishing it hadn't taken him three years to admit that. After insisting that he was providing for a family that didn't need anything from him but presence. "Well I'm glad you found something that made you feel useful," she told him sincerely. "I'm sorry I couldn't."
"And I'm sorry I wasn't Rick," he submitted, looking back to her for her reaction.
"And we were having such a nice conversation," she sighed, shaking her head.
"I thought we were having an honest one."
She should've seen this coming, given what Rick told her, but it didn't rattle her any less whenever someone broached the subject. Mainly because it added fuel to the idea that Lori knew, which was her worst nightmare – especially because there wasn't a damn thing she could say to her about it now. "…No, you're right," she conceded, figuring he deserved full disclosure if nothing else. "I'm not gonna pretend there was nothing there. We had feelings for each other that seemed intent on rearing their ugly heads every now and then. And if you felt that, I really am sorry," she spoke quietly but earnestly. "But I didn't need you to be Rick. I was with you."
"But was it because you couldn't be with him?"
She shook her head again as she honestly thought about the answer to his question. "I could've been with Rick. I could've blown up my life twenty years ago. I could've said, 'Fuck you and Lori' and probably made my life a lot easier in the end," she smiled sadly. "But that wasn't what I wanted."
"Twenty years ago, huh?" He nodded at the confirmation that his assumptions were all accurate.
Michonne shrugged. "I didn't ask for any of this, Mike. I did the best I could. I did what I thought was right."
"Yeah, you always do," Mike smirked, looking back out to the falling rain. He couldn't even imagine what it was like for her, living with that secret for two decades. "I mean, what was it like to be around him all that time?" he asked. "You two must have been alone together a lot."
"I never cheated on you, if that's what you're asking."
"That's not what I'm asking," he retorted. "I do know you well enough to know you wouldn't do that. I'm asking how it felt to be so close to someone you… couldn't be close to?"
"I dunno," she sighed, not wanting to delve into that. He was really harshing her buzz here. "You just… push it down."
"Mm." He absently rubbed at his stubble, wondering how she managed to do that. "Because it felt like shit for me," he revealed. "Hanging out with Rick, week in, week out, wondering if he was the reason you didn't love me anymore."
"Mike," she whispered, feeling tears stinging her eyes. For the first time, feeling like she had a part to play in the dissolution of her marriage. "I never meant… I mean, it doesn't matter what I meant," she murmured, mostly to herself. "But I'm sorry that you knew."
He nodded, allowing her apology to hang in the air for several minutes. He didn't intend to bring her down – he knew she was in a good mood, and he'd ruined so many of those over the years, the last thing he wanted was to do it again. It was why he was sitting outside in the first place. But he needed closure if he was ever going to move on from her. And as it became clear that she and Rick were going to be… something, he was going to have to move on. "I don't wanna fight with you, 'Chonne," he offered quietly, referring to their impending divorce. "I don't wanna end our relationship in a courtroom."
Michonne swallowed hard, feeling a tear slide down her cheek as she gazed at the back of his head, sighing with relief. "Thank you," she whispered.
"I hope you get what you always wanted," he nodded again, looking back at her genuinely. "Whether it's here or it's him…"
She cocked her head to the side, her sympathetic gaze still thanking him and she reached out to gently touch his back, her thumb stroking his shoulder. "You'll always be his father," she declared reassuringly. "Rick can't take that from you."
"Yeah," he replied, closing his eyes as she touched him for what would likely be the last time. He reached up to rest his hand on top of hers, feeling the lifetime of history between them, hoping that it wouldn't dissipate as they grew apart; that their divorce wouldn't erase them.
"You mind if I sit here with you for a minute?" she asked, not ready to go back to the party just yet. She needed to give this moment some space to breathe. So much had happened in the course of 24 hours, she needed some space to breathe. And she couldn't think of a better place than in the comfort of Mike's presence.
He smiled at the idea that she wasn't ready to leave him for Rick just yet. "I don't mind at all."
It was another hour before Michonne returned to the group, her card game having ended and Rick gone from the lounge where their kids and most of their friends were gathered. A quick search led her to find him in a secluded nook overlooking the ocean, another hammock in place for guests' leisure. He looked so peaceful resting there quietly, his eyes closed as he'd likely drifted off to sleep, she almost hated to disturb him. But she wanted to join him. "Move," she said, lightly pinching his forearm to stir him.
His eyes fluttered open, knowing it was her touch, but instinct made him want to see for himself. "Hey," he cleared his throat, shifting himself to allow her into the hammock. Smiling as she rested her body practically on top of his and he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame. All the pretenses had been dropped, it seemed. "You disappeared on us," he said, referring to their Spades game. "I had to find backup."
"Who did you get," her eyes narrowed as she waited for him to answer – if he said Shane, she was going to kick him out of their spot at once.
"Carol," he sighed, rolling his eyes at the feat it turned into once they started playing. "We still won, but just barely."
"I'm sorry," she chuckled against him, suddenly feeling that warm and tingly sensation again. "I saw Mike sitting outside and I ended up talking to him much longer than I intended."
"About what?"
"Us," she admitted, shrugging. "It was kind of all-encompassing, end-of-a-relationship type stuff."
Rick scoffed at the thought, but she seemed to be in a fine mood, so perhaps it was a better outcome than he was imagining. "And how'd it go?"
"Good, I think," she nodded again, running her fingers over the hair on the arm he had draped across her torso. "It was more than I was expecting to get into, but in the end, he said he doesn't wanna fight. So I think it was what I needed to hear."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she confirmed. "Between that conversation and the one with Jessie, I feel much lighter."
He smirked at her acknowledgement, as it sounded like she was saying he was right in the end. "So you mean my little confession at the table last night worked out well?"
"I am not going that far," she giggled. "It was still obnoxious as hell."
"By 'obnoxious', I think you mean bold. And clever. And romantic."
"I mean none of those things, actually."
"All right," he granted, grinning contentedly as he gazed at the side of her face. "It's been a lot for you today, you don't have to admit this, too. Baby steps."
"You're ridiculous," Michonne continued to laugh, that tingling feeling dialing up to ten when Rick's hand briefly grazed her breast and she felt her nipples immediately harden in response. She was so horny for him, she could damn near taste it, wishing she could abandon her responsibilities and safety precautions to take him upstairs right then. She wasn't sure how much longer she could wait. "Would it be weird if I asked you out on a date?" she wondered, turning her head so that it rested in the crook of his neck. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, which was soothing.
"Not at all," he replied, the smile apparent in his voice as his fingers gently caressed the warm flesh of her stomach. "You know I've been waiting for this moment since 1995, right?"
"You have to stop saying that," she laughed. "It makes us sound like horrible people."
"When's this date?"
"I was thinking… Saturday?" she said, recalling Jessie's offer. Carl could babysit, but at least she knew an adult would be around in case of emergency. And they were in desperate need of alone time before this vacation ended. "Just the two of us," she made sure to say. "I wanna take you to this dance hall in Sandy Ground."
Rick normally would've bristled at the idea of spending his New Year's Eve trying to dance. But he couldn't think of a better way to spend the end of the year and starting a new one than with Michonne, dancing the night away. "It's a date."
She grinned at the thought, in a bit of disbelief that this was all actually, finally happening. She just hoped it wasn't too good to be true. "It's a date."