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When she sees him in Target it is as if the past six months suddenly rush away and it is once again only her and Michael, Michael and her. Rafael hadn’t been the first man to join the 'Villaneuva women Black Friday shopping expedition', with Michael accompanying them almost two years ago, laughing as Jane rushed around snatching items that she probably didn’t really need but simply had to have (“They are on sale, Michael! Sale!”) and pretending to wince in pain when Jane whacked him in the stomach for peeking into her cart, filled to the brim with goodies. It had been a day, a tradition, that she’d stupidly thought they would be able to repeat for years to come…but here she is, a mere two years later, with more than just a display of Christmas trees separating her and Michael.
Six months, and yet it feels like a lifetime since she last laid eyes on the man she’d wanted to build a life with. She tightens her grip on the trolley and inhales deeply as she watches him, desperate to latch onto something so she doesn’t rush over there and demand Michael tell her where he has been, because she was the one whom cast him out of her life in the first place.
Jane just never thought it would be six whole months before she saw him again, never imagined that Michael would actually give up on them, not when he had seemed so determined to fight time and time again for what could be.
Because she hasn’t one hundred percent given up on them, no matter how hard she has tried to convince herself that she has. Seeing him, standing close enough that she would march over and kiss him if she so desired, it is as if all of her convictions to leave Michael in the past and move on – with Rafael, not with Rafael, who knows? – are flimsy excuses that she has made to prevent herself from living the life she truly wants to have. And maybe they are as flimsy as she thinks, if it only takes seeing Michael to make her excuses disappear. It had been so very easy to pretend like she was well and truly over him when he wasn’t around, easy to discard the memories of their past, but now that he is here in front of her…well, Jane suddenly doesn’t feel as convinced of her decisions as she was last night, Rafael smiling down at her as wine coursed through her veins.
She loses sight of him, and her heart drops in her chest, Jane abandoning her cart to peer around another Christmas tree, hoping that Michael has merely shifted, hoping that he is still there. But he isn’t, he’s gone, and maybe it’s for the best. She inhales once more and returns to her cart, fingers clenched tight around its handlebar, something close to disappointment settling in her throat. It is a feeling she has not experienced for months now, but a cuddle from Mateo shall surely shake it from her system, so she lowers her gaze and begins to push her cart away from the Christmas trees.
And when she lifts her eyes seconds later, it is to the sight of Michael, standing before her like no time has passed at all. Her heart soars, and she drinks the sight of him in, his blond hair perfectly styled. Her fingers itch to muss it up, to let free his curls, but she no longer has the privilege of such an action, no longer has the privilege to touch him at all. She cannot take her eyes off of him, desperate to register any and all changes that may have occurred in the last six months, but from the way his gaze darts to the ground, to her, and then back to the ground, it seems that Michael doesn’t feel the same way.
Maybe he’s just nervous, somewhere deep inside of her cries out, and Jane almost smiles at such a thought.
So she breaks the silence, and Michael finally, truly, looks at her. And relief and anticipation and even excitement sweep over her, only to be replaced by sadness and guilt and pain when he leaves moments later. Rafael stands behind her offering silent support, which she is thankful for, but she is not sure that he is not the man she wants standing behind her as tears well in her eyes.
But Michael’s moved on. He’s moved on, and rightfully so. Any woman would be lucky to have Michael as their partner, and once upon a time she would have been grateful to be that woman. But things happened, as they do, and the possibility of them being together had crumbled as easily as Mateo’s favourite teething biscuits.
He’s moved on, so maybe, so should she.
---
She tries not to let any ruin her date with Rafael, tries to make the best of it. He deserves that much. And she has a good time, she does, even though she silently worries about Mateo no matter how much Rafael tries to convince her otherwise. She loves Rafael, she does, and maybe someday soon the love she holds for him shall be stronger than the love she still has for Michael.
And when he tells her about his plan to make an offer on a house, tells her about the imaginations he had when he was a child about the perfect house, the perfect family, imaginations so similar to her own, she begins to hope that maybe it won’t take much time at all for her to be as happy with Rafael as she was less than a year ago.
But then Lina texts her, Rafael’s lips mere inches from hers, and it is as if her happy ending is unattainable yet again. They return to the hotel, and she longs to confess to him about knowing Wesley, about saying the very title Wesley has used for his tell-all article, but Rafael is too busy conversing with his legal team to notice the guilt settling over her face. And then the nanny tells her about Mateo waving, and she is too overwhelmed with excitement about such a millstone, desperate to watch it occur, to march after Rafael and tell him.
She should have, because the nanny cam, something she and Rafael had giggled over buying, causes her heart to drop in her chest, causes it to shatter and break. She is so very angry, so furious at Rafael that if it weren’t for Mateo in her arms, she would throw something, anything at him. Jane can barely speak, barely look at him. He has been lying to her for six months, lying to her about getting Michael fired over something that he should have never known about at all. Yes, Nadine was a criminal, and yes, it was wrong for Michael to let her go. But letting her go had ensured that Michael was able to safely retrieve Mateo, so in this instance Jane doesn’t really care about upholding justice, doesn’t really care that what Michael did was wrong. Her son, their son, a happy, healthy six month old, is wriggling in her arms right now, is alive right now, because of what Michael did, and Michael has lost his job, lost her, because of what Rafael did, what he did and then proceed to lie about.
Hardly a fitting gift for saving his son.
Hardly a smart action for a man desperate to reunite with her.
So she leaves Rafael behind in his suite without shedding a single tear, and she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t feel like she needs to.
And when she has finally settled Mateo in his crib, almost ripping her dress in her haste to get it off, to forget about how happy she was only mere hours ago, she grabs her phone and composes a text to Michael.
I was wrong. Rafael lied. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me, because I forgave you a long time ago. I’d love to see you, but I understand if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know.
Jane sends the text, quickly, without too much thought on the matter and then places her phone on her bedside table, slipping into her pyjamas and tying her hair up. And then she grabs her phone again, composing another text, because she’s too angry to sleep and too sad about everything, about things that she thought were well and truly in the past, to be angry.
I miss you. Six months is far too long a time.
---
Michael returns to his apartment in the early hours of the morning, desperately needing sleep before he returns to the station and begins the investigation on Mutter, on Luisa’s mother. He’d left his phone behind at home by accident, not needing on his person because there was no one he really wanted to text, no Jane to converse with throughout the day, so he idly opens it whilst waiting for the shower to heat up, shirt half unbuttoned and eyes bleary from tiredness.
He blinks as he looks down at the screen, certain that what he is seeing cannot be real. It surely must be a figment of his imagination, a repercussion stemming from his lack of sleep. So he places the phone down and undresses, stepping into the shower, certain that when he steps out the texts from Jane will not be there.
The texts cannot be there, will not be there, because that would mean for the first time in six months Michael could feel hope, and he isn’t sure that he quite remembers how to.
But the words are still there when he slips into his bed, Jane’s words of apology, of forgiveness, lighting up his phone screen…and, he'll admit, his heart.
I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’d love to see you. I miss you.
I miss you too, he thinks, desperate to return Jane’s texts but knowing that doing so would surely wake both her and Mateo up. Instead, he thinks of what he wants to say, and he frantically writes it down, determined to reply first thing tomorrow, writing until exhaustion finally overwhelms him. He falls asleep with a smile on his lips for the first time in six long months, anticipation coursing through his body.