A/N: Enjoy!

Chapter 5: The Future and the Past

Three glasses of wine. That was my limit. It was self-imposed, but it was my limit, nonetheless. The two and a half glasses of Malbec I'd already savored were doing a wonderful job of making the awkward small talk and the even more awkward silences tolerable.

I looked at my almost empty glass and tried not to sigh.

Four glasses of wine. That was my new limit. I needed to flag down our waiter.

"I think you've had enough," Rick said, intruding on my thoughts.

I looked into his smiling blue eyes and playfully scoffed. "I'm not drunk, just—"

"Feelin' good," he finished. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You forget, I was there the last time those words came out your mouth."

I laughed out loud, not caring that it was probably one of those slightly too loud, wine-induced bursts of laughter. The evening was not going well, so I was relishing this lighthearted moment.

"Then you should remember the particular incident you're referring to involved shots, not glasses of wine," I pointed out. "Apples and oranges, my friend."

He smiled at the memory.

I smiled at him.

After the Jessie-Lori fiasco, it had taken a full week for Rick and me to clear the air. Rick was the one who extended the olive branch when he appeared in my bedroom doorway with a peace offering: a pair of his flannel pajama pants. I hated the disconnect between us, so I snatched that olive branch without a second thought.

Deep down, I knew our reconciliation amounted to putting a band-aid over a gaping wound. What Rick and I ultimately needed to do was reevaluate and redefine the roles we were playing in each other's lives. Until that happened, he agreed to only mention Lori to me if she contacted him with plans to return to King County or if he wanted me to give him a divorce attorney referral. The divorce attorney piece of it was my idea, which he didn't appreciate whatsoever. But I needed him to keep in mind that he had options in creating his own happiness.

I agreed to mind my business if Rick wanted a haircut.

Jessie was now a non-factor who wasn't worth any further conversation. She stopped calling Rick to arrange baby play dates after my locker room chat with her. And according to Rick, a cordial nod was the extent of her interaction with him at Gymboree when they saw one another.

I overheard him gossiping on the phone one evening—probably with Daryl, possibly with Glenn—about how Jessie was now fixated on a new Gymboree teacher named Jerry. Rick babbled on and on about a peach cobbler controversy. Apparently, Jessie brought Jerry a peach cobbler that she claimed she made from scratch. Jerry shared the cobbler with everyone, and Rick and a few of the other parents were convinced it was store-bought. After listening in for another few minutes, I grew bored of Rick's very animated but senseless conversation about how tacky it was to lie about making homemade desserts.

He would probably never admit it to me, but I smugly walked away from eavesdropping knowing that he knew I was right. Jessie Anderson was, in fact, a thirsty Gymboree ho.

"When's the last time we had a night like that?" I asked, resting my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand and leaning closer to him.

"A night of you gettin' us banned from a fine establishment because of how good you were feelin'?" he asked with a bright smile.

"Haha, Richard. Very funny," I deadpanned. "I mean a night of us getting dressed up and going out. No Nugget... no falling asleep before nine o'clock...just the two of us having adult fun."

He picked up his fork and twirled it around as he gave my question some thought.

"Mama Mia's with Glenn and Maggie. Daryl babysat Carl," he answered, pointing the fork at me and then putting it down.

I cringed at his response.

"I know it's not dancin' on a tabletop before bein' banned from a fine establishment," he said, smiling, "but wasn't it still a good time?"

I gave him a very unimpressed look, making him laugh.

"I'm sorry, Mich," he adorably pouted, reaching over and lightly tugging on a loose loc. "Please, go on."

I gave him an exaggerated eye roll before I continued.

"That night at Mama Mia's was fantastic, but that was months ago. We were home before eight, and we didn't exactly dress up."

"We took showers, though," he said with a half shrug.

I laughed out loud for the second time that evening but stopped once I realized he was serious. "Is that our standard now? Just showering?"

He nodded with a little chuckle. "I think it is. It's Carl's world, we just live in it."

I softly sighed. I loved Nugget in the most indescribably wonderful way, but sometimes I longed for the days when we weren't bound to the cutest little baby in the world.

"I miss foreign movie night," I confided in Rick.

"Yeah, I do too," he said, smiling fondly.

Mike cleared his throat.

He'd excused himself to use the restroom a few minutes ago and was back. I sat back in my chair, moving away from Rick.

"What's that about foreign films?" he asked, looking between me and Rick as he sat down in the chair next to me, draping his arm across the back of my chair.

"Oh, um... Rick and I have a longstanding movie tradition," I answered because I knew Rick wouldn't. "We were discussing how it's been too long since we last made a trip to the theater."

I reached for my wine and took a sip.

The full story was that Rick's mom absolutely loved foreign movies and would take Rick, Daryl and me to watch them when we were kids. The three of us were too young to care about anything except eating hot, buttered popcorn and having sword fights with our Red Vines, but she'd corral us at least one Saturday morning a month to watch a matinee.

When we hit our pre-teen years, Rick and Daryl dropped out of foreign movie Saturdays to do whatever it was pre-teen boys liked to do without a mom or a friend who was a girl present. Those Saturdays became a girls' day out for me and Rick's mom until Rick joined us again in his mid-twenties. At the movie's end, we'd head to a coffeehouse or a restaurant to discuss it in depth. Our conversations could stretch for hours.

It took some time after Rick's mom passed away to resume the tradition, but Rick and I eventually did. Since Daryl never regained an interest in foreign films and Lori never cared for movies with subtitles, it was something special that Rick and I did together. The surrogacy process and everything that followed it brought our movie nights to an end, but I hoped we would once again resume them at some point. The thought of one day including Nugget in the tradition made me a little giddy.

Mike looked at me with an excited smile. "Michonne, I had no idea you enjoyed foreign films. I just read about a film fest being held in Atlanta next month. We should make plans to attend. Maybe make a weekend out of it?"

I nodded noncommittally, taking another sip of wine.

I'd also just found out the film fest, but it was Rick who came to mind when I thought about attending. The only reason I hadn't brought it up yet was because of Nugget. It would be the first time Rick and I would both be so far away from him for an entire weekend, and I wasn't confident that either of us was ready for that.

I watched my wine as I swirled it around in my glass to avoid Mike's stare. There was a degree of guilt I felt for not thinking about him when he had thought of me.

"Rick, you and Michonne have known each other since you were six years old," Mike said, changing the subject. "It is quite extraordinary to have a friendship that spans thirty years."

I peeked at Rick, who stared disinterestedly at Mike before responding.

"It is."

I shot him a look telling him to stop being difficult. He shot me a look telling me "no." And just like that, the awkwardness stemming from my boyfriend meeting my officially unofficial best friend returned to its rightful home at our table.

Mike, seemingly unfazed by Rick, continued the conversation.

"I moved frequently when I was a child," he shared. "My father was a high-ranking officer in the military, so it was my birthright, in a sense, to become a well-seasoned traveler. I've seen most corners of the world, mastered multiple languages, and developed a rather distinguished palate. However, I never had the pleasure of making childhood friends. You both are lucky," he said reverently. "And Daryl is a childhood friend as well, is that right?"

Rick remained silent until I kicked his foot under the table.

"It is," he answered curtly.

And for the umpteenth time that night, Rick and Mike looked at each other with barely concealed contempt.

Mike chuckled dryly. "Not one for small talk, Rick?"

"Not one for small talk, Mike," Rick deadpanned.

I held in a groan and looked around for our waiter. I really, really needed more wine.

"Fair enough. I wanted to meet you for a reason, so perhaps it's best we move past the small talk."

When Mike took a sip of his brandy, I kicked Rick's foot again. Mike didn't catch Rick's eye roll, but I did.

"Rick, you'll have to forgive me if I come across as obtuse but help me understand the arrangement that you and Michonne have."

Rick picked up his napkin, slowly wiped his mouth with it, and placed it over his mostly uneaten porterhouse steak and crab-stuffed lobster tail. Mike had suggested that we meet at II Forks Chop House because it was the best steakhouse in town. If I needed tangible evidence that the evening wasn't going well, it was right there on Rick's plate. How I felt about Glenn's pizza is how Rick felt about a good steak, and the steak on Rick's plate was as good as it got in King County.

I couldn't say I was surprised by Rick's attitude. He arrived at the restaurant in a bad mood, which was in large part due to Mike's last-minute request to meet only him. Mike did want to meet Daryl and Gleggie as well, but he felt it was more beneficial to meet with Rick first. We'd been dating for almost two months now, and he was thoroughly perplexed by the nature of my relationship with Rick and Carl.

I warned Mike that his request to meet only Rick wouldn't go over well with Rick, Daryl or Gleggie. For the most part, Rick had expressed indifference when it came to my new relationship. He didn't object to meeting Mike when Daryl and Gleggie were joining us. Once they were disinvited, he didn't care to meet Mike. Glenn handled the slight the best. He suggested that we all meet Mike at Mama Mia's in the next few weeks. Daryl and Maggie were both livid. They were the ones who'd been relentlessly pushing to meet Mike over the last two months. Maggie took being disinvited the hardest and was the most livid. Daryl was the most childish with his anger.

He would only refer to Mike as "Panty Man" now.

"I'm sure Michonne has explained thangs to you already," Rick said to Mike in a tight voice.

"She has, and she's done so as eloquently and as passionately as any attorney who believes in a cause would. But I'm curious about... things from your perspective."

I took another sip of wine and glanced at Rick.

No head tilt. No eye squint.

"From the perspective of someone on the outside looking in, what you and Michonne are doing seems quite peculiar."

And there was the eye squint.

"The so-called 'co-partnering?' The cohabitation? It's perpetuating a falsehood, is it not?"

"Come again?" Rick asked.

Mike took a heavy breath and tapped his finger impatiently on the table. "How can I say this in a way you'd understand?"

"Mike!" I gasped, shocked that he would be so condescending.

"I meant no offense," he said to me. "But you are pretending to be something that you're not," he said to Rick.

"And what exactly are we pretendin' to be?" Rick asked.

"A family unit."

Rick's squint deepened. "We are family."

"But you're not a family unit. Not husband, wife and child. Not boyfriend, girlfriend and child. You're two friends, one of whom has a child. Playing house only confuses that reality, especially taking into consideration that you have a wife you allege to love."

Rick turned his glare to me.

"I understand Michonne helped you through your mental hardships..."

Rick redirected his glare to Mike.

"But why, almost a year later, do you find it acceptable for her to be living under your roof, raising your child?"

And there was the start of a head tilt.

I gulped down the rest of my wine.

"I've met this beautiful, amazing woman, Rick. But I need to know that it's possible for me to build something with her. So, I'm asking you, is it possible?"

Rick glared at Mike for a beat. "That's between you and Michonne."

"I'm asking you," came Mike's steely response, "and you know exactly what it is that I'm asking."

"I don't think I do," Rick retorted, his head tilting down a tick more.

His phone, which he'd kept on the table in case of a Carl emergency, started vibrating before his head could move into a full head tilt.

"Rick, are you in love with Michonne?" Mike asked as Rick grabbed his phone and flipped it open.

Wait, what?!

My jaw dropped.

"You live in his home, Michonne," Mike quietly said to me while Rick took the call. "I know why you've chosen to help raise his son, and I adore that you could be so selfless. I've also considered things from his position, and I've come to two conclusions. He's either taking advantage of you or he's in love with you."

Wait, what?!

Rick snapped his phone shut and stood up in a hurry. "We need to go," he said to me. "Now."

"Carl?" I whispered, trying not to panic.

"It's Hershel. Emergency surgery."

My heart dropped. Hershel was Maggie's father.

I shot up from my chair, but the sudden movement after three glasses of wine left me a little wobbly. Both Mike and Rick reached out to support me. It was Mike's assistance that I accepted.

"Are you ok?" he asked, putting his arm around my waist.

"We have to go," I told him.

"Of course. Let me get the check, and then we can head to the hospital."

I appreciated the offer, but what he suggested wasn't going to work. This was a family matter, and my family wouldn't want him at the hospital. I looked over my shoulder at Rick. "Give me a second?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll get back in touch with Daryl to find out somethin' more."

"Rick," I called out after he started to walk away.

He slowly turned around and looked at me with "What?!" written all over his face. I silently told him that his mother raised him better than that. I could tell he was on the verge of tilting his head and squinting his eyes, but he composed himself and walked back over to me and Mike.

"Mike," he grunted, holding his hand out.

"Rick," Mike said coolly, shaking Rick's hand.

Both men looked like shaking hands was the last thing they wanted to be doing.

"And for the record," Rick said, continuing to grip Mike's hand, "your beautiful and amazin' girlfriend is also extremely strong-willed and stubborn. If she'd rather sit on the couch with me and my son watchin' her silly tv shows than go out with you, that has nuthin' to do with me. Take that up with Michonne."

He gave Mike one last hard stare before releasing the grip on his hand.

"Let me know if I need to rephrase that in a way you can understand," he added. "We need to go," he said to me again.

Mike stared at the back of Rick's head as he walked out the restaurant.

"It wasn't my intention to offend," he insisted.

"But you did, Mike. And I can't have that. I won't have it."

"Michonne, I will apologize," he promised.

"Make sure that you do."

I was rubbed the wrong way by a few things Mike said tonight, but my annoyance softened when I looked into his eyes and saw the depth of his feelings for me. After just a few months, I was far from being head over heels in love, but from the looks of it, Mike was in deep.

"Walk me out?" I asked.

He guided me outside with a hand on my lower back and pulled me close when we were saying our goodbyes.

"I care about you, Michonne. Tremendously. I think we have the potential to develop into something magnificent, but I don't trust—"

"Stop," I said, silencing him. "Rick isn't a problem. He's in love with his wife. Rick will always be in love with his wife."

Mike looked at me skeptically.

"Trust me," I whispered.

His arms tightened around me. "Michonne… we don't have thirty years of friendship," he said somewhat nervously, "but I want to know you in different ways too. I'd love to sit on a couch with you and watch silly tv shows, if that's what your heart desires."

I tried imagining what watching Pasión de los Cuerpos, my guilty pleasure telenovela, would be like with Mike. I couldn't see myself having as much fun watching it with him as I did with Rick and Nugget, but it was only right that I at least try to watch it with him.

I nodded and gave him a smile. "Let's set a couch date."

"And there's that smile," Mike said, grinning. "I was wondering if I'd get one of my own this evening."

He pulled me even closer and leaned down, giving me a sweet and gentle kiss on my lips.

"I'm very sorry about your friend. My offer stands to accompany you to the hospital."

"Mike, you haven't even met Maggie," I reminded him, freeing myself from his arms. "This wouldn't be the best time for introductions."

"Perhaps I could just drop you off?"

I looked to my left and saw Rick standing next to his truck in the parking lot with his phone to his ear.

"I'll give you a call later tonight, Mike."

He gave me a nod of understanding. "I'll be waiting for your call."

"Ok, we're leavin' now," I heard Rick say. "Call me if anythang changes."

He closed his phone, opened the passenger door of his truck and watched me approach as quickly as my dressy sandals would let me.

"Hershel's still in surgery. There was some kind of a tractor accident," he told me, helping me into the truck.

He gave my hand a quick squeeze and shut the passenger door before hustling to the driver's side.

"Rick—"

"Can we please not do this right now?" he asked, not looking at me.

"Later then."

"Later," he agreed as he pulled out of the parking space.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please take the time time to leave a review. It's appreciated.