Chapter 16 – Rick

"Married?"

"I know, can you believe that?" Michonne asks, incredulity in her voice.

"I can't. Shane is going to be pissed."

"You think so? The last time I talked to him he was running around with that Andrea chick again. I don't think he's going to care at all." Michonne asserts, licking her fingers clean of the sticky glaze left over from the half dozen Krispy Kreme donuts she just devoured.

"Yeah he's gonna be mad. He likes Sasha. She's just, more woman than he's used to. Andrea is easy. A distraction. Shane likes easy. And, ya know, he doesn't really know how to navigate with complicated women like Sasha. Not emotionally. He just doesn't know how." I offer, glancing at her from the corner of my eye, both turned on and amazed at her ministrations. The meticulous finger licking is getting my dick hard because I know what my girl can do with that mouth. And well, I'm also amazed because she polished off all of those donuts on her own without stopping to take a breath.

"Hm. You're probably right, you know him better than I do. I didn't think that whole thing was serious between him and Sasha."

"He likes her. Probably could have been real serious eventually, but Shane has some of the same damage the rest of have. Parent issues, emotional issues, self-worth issues. He's definitely not going to be happy that Sasha moved on permanently. No one wants to lose their girl to another guy."

"I don't know that she would have considered herself to be his girl though, Rick. She liked Shane too, but I guess not enough. She married Spencer, just out of the blue. Flew to Las Vegas and got married on Christmas on a whim. Didn't tell me, didn't tell her parents, brothers, nobody. Worst part about it is that she doesn't even love him."

"How do you know that?"

"One, she just met him. Two, she told me. Said she likes him enough. Apparently he is in love with her, and wants to take care of her, let her work on her art. She said she's not going back to school, she's going to focus on her art full time. And that his parents love her. They even bought them a house in Alexandria, Virginia so they can settle near DC for his job. I told her it must be nice." She adds that last bit with a large dose of sarcasm, and though it stings a bit, I can't deny that she has every reason to respond that way.

Feeling ashamed and contrite that Michonne won't have the luxury of the kinds of in-laws that Sasha has apparently been blessed with, I offer her an apology. "I'm sorry about that by the way. If it helps, you know my dad adores you. Ellen though…"

"Oh you're calling your mother Ellen now?" quirking her eyebrow she looks over to me briefly, and I can feel her eyes quickly roaming over my profile in question.

"I'm just fed up with her, and she's not behaving motherly with all of her bullshit schemes right now. So, no. I'm not calling her 'mom'. I'm done with her. You deserve so much better than this. You and our baby do." Reaching out towards her, I protectively place my hand on her still flat stomach, thrilled at the thought that my daughter is in there. Growing, getting stronger, bigger. That the person I love most in the world is carrying and nurturing a part of me inside of her.

"So, when do you wanna tell your parents about everything?" Placing the empty donut box on the back seat, she turns her body sideways, and focuses her wide, coffee colored, eyes on me.

"Whenever you want. We can drive directly there instead of your parents' house, and tell them first. Doesn't matter to me. My pops already knows. He gave me the ring. It was my grandmother's, his mom."

"What about your mom? She's gonna lose it when she finds out isn't she? Ugh! Is it wrong that I hate her? She's going to be my mother in law, and the thought of her makes me so angry. She's never going to accept me or our baby, Rick. You know that, right?" Posing the question to me, Michonne's voice holds a softer tenor than normal, indicating she is unhappy and uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. It tears me up inside that the thought of my mother brings about so much angst in her.

"She won't be a problem for us, Michonne. I know that, I know her. She's intolerant and she likes to manipulate, but I won't give her a chance anymore. So, don't worry about her. You and our baby will have me, and my dad, your family. There will always be lots of love for you both. Isn't that what matters? Not her approval."

"I don't need or want her approval, but I worry about you because you don't seem to really see her for what she is. How unhinged she is. Even if she won't be around, it doesn't change the way I feel about her, because it doesn't change the way things are. Your mother is a racist. She tried to put Lori, another racist, between us. And I don't even fully blame Lori. I get it. I've been loved by you. It's the single most amazing feeling I've ever had. You look at me like I hung the moon. Like your day doesn't begin or end without me. If Lori ever felt even an ounce of that, I understand why she would want it back."

"It's never been the same with Lori. I told you that."

"You did. And I want to believe that, I'm getting there. But Lori isn't blameless, and neither are you. She allowed herself to be used by your devious ass mother. She knew exactly what she was doing. And you not telling me about her being there…it was a lie by omission. It's how her and your mother got between us. I can see that now."

"I never lied to you." I vigorously protest, particularly shaken by her insinuating that I lied to her.

"I'm not accusing you, Rick. I'm trying to put out there all of the uncomfortable, ugly stuff now, so we can start this new year together, the three of us, fresh. We need to be honest and open if we are going to make it. This week at the lake house has been magic. But, we have some stuff we need to discuss and sort through. Some big stuff. Starting with your mother and ending with Mike and Lori."

On a deep intake of breath, I know she's right, but I don't particularly want to talk about any of those things. It would be so much easier to have stayed together at the lake house, cooking, eating, watching television, listening to music, having sex. Planning our lives, and simply being together without all of the noise and distraction of the real world yelling at us, and pulling us in a million different directions. My girl knows me, and she knows that I would be fine just ignoring and avoiding my mother like she doesn't exists. It would be the path of least resistance to get what I want, and not have to fully confront the difficult, yet ugly truth, that is my mother. The woman who, even though I'm ashamed of her, I still love. She nurtured me and gave me life, and for that reason, this is epiphany of who she really he, and the extremes she will go, is intensely painful.

I have to admire the rather logical sense of calm that Michonne seems to be employing today though, and I want to encourage it given that her hormones seem to be throwing her emotions and her body off kilter a little lately. This past week, I have witnessed some puzzling behavior from a normally happy, and easy going Michonne. One minute she was crying at a video clip on Facebook, of kittens that were scared by a cucumber. Then she was equally weepy and upset when she asked me if I liked cats, and I admitted to her that I was not particularly fond of them. She spent a great deal of time sleeping and eating, often nodding off while I was talking to her. These things occurred at such an increased amount that I had to turn to the arbiter of bad medical judgment, WebMD, to try and figure out if this was normal for pregnant women, or if I should take her to the doctor. Though WebMD confirmed that yes this was all normal, and that no she doesn't have cancer or some other terminal disease that it seems to usually diagnose people with, I have been making every attempt to be mindful of what I say, and when she is being undeniably reasonable.

Considering my own feelings, and the honesty in Michonne's words, I nod my head in agreement. "Ok, you're right. Continue."

"I think your mother is dangerous. She's filled with hate. She's playing with people's lives like they are chess pieces. Like what you want, who you are, who you love, doesn't even matter. Your mother only cares that Lori is who she wants for you, and that she's white. Literally that's the only reason she doesn't like me. That's a special kind of crazy is all I'm saying. And you and your father seem content to just try and ignore her like she's an eccentric, but she's so much more than that. It's time for you guys to recognize that. To recognize her for who she really is."

"She will never be a factor in our lives. I promise you this. If she can't accept you, and our baby. I'm not going to allow her to disrespect my wife and child. You're the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me, you and our baby. My mother is not more important than that, and if I have to cut her out of my life, then so be it." I'm getting upset, feeling shame and anger at the drama my own mother has caused, and at the realization that Michonne is right. Ellen can never be a part of our lives, not if we want to be happy. Not if I want to protect my wife and child from her kind of virulent negativity.

Twirling her fingers in my hair, knowing that it relaxes me, Michonne leans into my side and kisses along my jaw. I can instantly feel the calming effects of her touch, her kiss, as I struggle through my emotions. "You will always have me, Rick, my support. And I know she can't replace your mother in your life, but my mama loves her some Rick Grimes. We'll be ok. I don't want her to hurt and manipulate you any longer. And, I'm not blameless in all of this either. I have been thinking about it, over and over, how I let my history with Mike prevent me from fully trusting in you, letting myself get made a fool of by your mother and Lori. I was so stupid."

"Hey! Don't talk about my girl like that." With my hand still on her stomach, I drift down to her thigh, covered in black tights. In an assuring manner, I rub my palm over her.

"Rick. You have been very patient with me, even when I questioned your motives, your love. I was so naïve about Mike because… because I was afraid to really have a clean break, to not have the certainty of him in my life. He's always been a constant and reassuring presence in my life. When my dad died, he helped me through the roughest times I've ever had. But I was foolish for ever thinking that any of that compared to this magical thing between me and you. I'm sorry. I'm going to do better, be better."

"There's plenty of blame to go around, Michonne. I didn't want to hurt Lori, and ended up hurting you. Which is something I would never, ever do on purpose. It kills me to know that I've ever made you unhappy, or sad. I'm gonna show you though. That I deserve you, that I'll protect you, your feelings. From Lori, my mother, from anyone who would hurt you. Even me. Do you trust me to do that?"

"Yeah. We have to be strong for each other, Rick. I'll protect you too, even from me."

"I'm ready to be the husband and father you need me to be. I promise." Michonne is staring at me as though she has never seen me before, her eyes boring into me, and wandering over my frame. I'm not sure at first what this look means, it's an unreadable stare, her eyes flitting from my own and out to the road. Then, as if she has come to some conclusion about my vow to her, a beautiful smile animates her full lips and she leans over and kisses me again, this time tilting her face in front of mine to reach my lips.

"Earlier you called me your wife."

"Soon as I put that ring on your finger you became my wife."

"You referred to yourself as my husband."

"Am I? Do you accept me as your husband, Michonne Sabine Kelly?"

"Yes, Richard Andrew Grimes. I do." Her vow to me, her promise has my heart racing, ramming against my ribcage. Reaching for her left hand, I kiss her finger where the ring I gave her rests. A little giggle escapes her lips. "Rick, let's make a quick stop, ok? I wanna take you somewhere before we leave Atlanta."

"Where?"

"You'll see." Trusting her, I follow her directions to head somewhere in southwest Atlanta.

Five days ago, as I lay in the bed with Michonne, ecstatic that not only were we back together, on the same page, but that she as also having my child, I couldn't find a more fitting way to seal this deal with her than by simply placing my grandmother's ring on her finger. Easing her from my chest so that I could rush to the living room and retrieve my coat with the ring in the pocket, the rush of joy I felt was immeasurable. Hurrying back to the room, wanting to get it on her finger before she woke, I couldn't help but marvel at how perfect this all seemed. Though not easy by any stretch of the imagination, the ups and downs, every minute, every second with her has been worth it. All of it led me to the moment where I took a hold of the delicate soft hand of my girl, and witnessed the way the gold dropped in a perfect glide down her slender finger.

Fitting as though it was made just for her, the realization hit me that in some cosmic way, it was. I don't believe in luck, or coincidence. Michonne coming into my life at the time she did, at the place she did, was an inevitability that was simply meant to be. I'm convinced that in any universe, under any circumstance, Michonne and I would find our way to each other. We belong to each other, and the fact that my soul recognized hers as its pre-ordained compliment the very first time I saw her proves it. How could this link of two people, so very different from each other, be anything but fate? We met at a wedding that I almost missed because of work. Her mother married my father's best friend. She came down that aisle, floating like an angel on the beaming rays of the sun. And my grandmother's ring is like a custom fit to her finger. This is fate.

The concept of fate once again floats through my mind as my beloved and I stand with our hands intertwined, facing each other, our heads bowed as her priest, Father Gabriel, prays over us. In a simple pair of khakis, and a white button up shirt, I have to fight not to cry at how perfect this moment is. When Michonne directed me to drive towards southwest Atlanta, I had no idea that she was leading me to her family's church. My family has never been religious, so at first I was hesitant to enter, and had never even heard of going to church on New Year's Eve. But following her lead, and her idea that we should come and get prayed for at what is known as New Year's Eve Night Watch service, Michonne and I now stand in the private office of Father Gabriel. With hundreds of his parishioners in the main sanctuary, all awaiting the beginning of the new year, we are anxious for him to provide a few words to preside over our impromptu vow exchange. With only the two of us, Father Gabriel, and his assistant in attendance in the large, lavishly decorated office, decked out in rich wood paneling, with curtains and upholstery in deep rich colors of burgundy, and green. The peace and calm I feel, swaddles me in certainty. A clear and unyielding truism that joining my life with this woman, right now, is the most undoubtedly right thing I have ever done.

With a bible held under our tightly intertwined hands, and his other hand clutched firmly atop them, Father Gabriel begins to speak. "I have known Michonne since she was a baby. We are close to the same age, grew up in this church together. It is bittersweet that you have asked me to pray over your union, that is not legal as you do not have a license, but is everything that is good in this world in the eyes of the Lord. Your love and commitment to each other, despite some of the challenges you have discussed with me from your past, and those that you will surely face in the future, is breathtaking in its beauty and earnestness. I am grateful for the opportunity to offer you my blessing and my words of encouragement over your journey together. I pray that whatever you believe in, that your union will forever remain awash in the spiritual protection of the universal power of all creation. That your souls will remain intertwined with the strength of your love. That you will be plentiful, and bless this earth with the fruit of your dedication to each other. Forget the rules that others may prescribe for you. Create a path all your own, that will ensure your love's survival. Protect, honor, and care for each other every day of your lives. Do you promise this to each other, Michonne and Rick?" Father Gabriel asks in a smooth, proud baritone, looking from each of us, as we stare lovingly at each other.

"We do." In unison our voices join together in a promise that is both earnest and sacred.

"With the honor granted to me by our Lord, I pronounce you husband and wife. May God bless and keep you always. You may kiss your bride!" Father Gabriel proclaims, and I do exactly that. Leaning in, I happily close my eyes and press my lips against Michonne's, delighting in the soft luxury of her plump lips, and the eager fervor with which she's kissing me back. Salty wet tears, that could belong to either of us, cascade down and over our joined lips.

Pulling apart, and with sweaty hands, I reach for my wife's face, and gently swipe across her round cheeks, and her smiling lips to sweep away her tears with my thumbs. Realizing that I never want to forget her like this, this day, or this euphoric feeling, I dig into my pocket for my phone. Turning to one of the witnesses on the stage, a lady whose name I cannot recall, I ask her to take a photo with my phone.

Hugging my wife to my body, her soft curves pressed tightly to the lean cut of my own form, my lips tilt upwards in a smile that illuminates the light in my eyes. Superseding my own grin, the brilliance of Michonne's smile adds a purely sweet innocence to the series of quick snaps taken by the priest's assistant. My wife's enchanted grin and glowing visage deems these pictures unnecessary though, because this day, this perfect image, is already permanently burned into my brain.

"Mom! Hershel! We're here!" Michonne calls out. Walking through the front door of the Greene's house, lit up with festive green, red, white, and blue lights, I'm immediately blinded by the bright burst of a camera's flash.

"Damn! What was that?" I ask, shaking my head and rubbing at my bleary eyes with my thumb and forefinger.

"Gotcha! Happy New Year!" Maggie exclaims, throwing her thin arms around Michonne and I.

"Happy New Year to you, too! What's with the paparazzi act?" Michonne asks, also massaging her own eyes to dash away the flash's twinkle, probably still dancing behind her closed lids.

"Mom and Dad got me this cool professional camera for Christmas. So, I'm the official camerawoman for the party. You would know this if you had been home at Christmas." Maggie snarks, a hint of hurt in her voice at the mention of Michonne not being around for the holiday. At that, a brief flush of embarrassment flows through me as I internally acknowledge that I'm partly to blame for that. First, with our misunderstanding at my apartment, and then with the way I whisked her away to the lake house for some time alone. Not wanting Maggie, or anyone else to be upset with Michonne for her holiday absence, I apologize on her behalf.

"Don't blame your sister. That's my fault. I'm sorry."

"Uh huh. And where have you been? And what's that on your finger, Michonne? Oh my God! MOM!" Tugging her camera back to her eye from its hanging position around her neck, Maggie begins furiously snapping pictures of Michonne's left hand, and the now conspicuous ring settled there.

"Oh Lord!" Michonne drops her head, chin to chest, rolling her eyes at Maggie's antics.

"What's the problem?" Hustling into the foyer, Michonne's mother has a look of alarm on her face. Dressed to party in a tightly fitted red dress, red heels, and a full face of makeup, and her bountiful hair curled full and bouncy around her face, her beautiful mother is quickly joined by Hershel, following closely behind. With a matching look of worry, and though dressed up as well in a nice black suit, he doesn't compare to the festive splendor of Michonne's mother.

"Look at her hand!" Maggie exclaims in a loud voice, making sure her mother hears her over the loud music pumping from somewhere in the house.

"Oh my God! Is that what I think it is?" Entranced by the sparkler on her daughter's finger, Mrs. Greene's eyes are laser focused on the ring, only momentarily raising to Michonne's face as she waits for an answer.

"Mom, Hershel, Rick asked me to marry him, and I said yes." Proudly, her right hand still tightly clasped in mine, Michonne confirms what Maggie, and the ring have already announced.

"My baby, you're going to be a wife? I can't believe this is happening so soon!" Mrs. Greene says, her hands covering her lips and swiftly dashing away the tears that threaten to ruin her darkly outlined eyes.

"Congratulations, Rick! I couldn't have picked a finer man for my daughter. You're lucky to have each other. Uh, do your parents know yet?" Hershel asks, shaking my hand, following it with a warm fatherly embrace.

"Not yet, sir. We plan to tell them after we tell you."

"Hm. Well your dad is here, so you can tell him now. Rance! Look who's here." Hershel raises his hand to gesture my dad over. Craning my neck in the direction he's yelling, I instantly catch a glimpse of my dad, Morgan's dad, and Dale drinking and laughing, heading out the back door to the deck, cigars and glasses of scotch in hand. I smile at the thought of my dad out, having a good time. He turns at the sound of his name being yelled over the music, and his squinting blue eyes, and mischievous grin confirm that my mother is probably nowhere to be found, at least not here, and that is definitely contributing to his obviously jubilant mood.

Hugging tightly to Michonne, rocking her back and forth, Mrs. Greene is softly sobbing. Realizing that his wife is still clearly emotional from our announcement, Hershel easily tugs her away from her daughter, giving Michonne a little breathing room as well. To also stem her own tears, and prevent them from messing her own makeup, I'm rushing to help wipe them from her face, and help her out of her black wool coat.

"Mona, honey, stop crying and let's get the kids further inside so we can toast to the occasion. Lots of friends and family here to celebrate the New Year, and now I guess the good news. Ok?"

"Ok. I'm just so…happy. Rick, you're going to be my son! I've never had a son." Continuing with the crying, full on tears now, at first I'm not sure if Michonne's mother is happy or upset given the way she maintains the free flow of emotions. When she unexpectedly pulls me into a tight hug, holding me close, and placing a big kiss to my cheek, I settle on happy. "You're going to be a good husband. I just know it! And my Andre would have loved you, and how tough you love his baby girl. You're a good boy!" She offers, wiping her red lipstick from my bearded cheek.

Ushering Michonne and I further into the house, we see that Hershel was right, and that the house is filled with partygoers. It seems that all of King County, and apparently half of Atlanta are here, some even spilling out onto the back lawn and deck. The Dixons, Daryl and Carol, are here tending bar, which even when they aren't working seems to be the thing they somehow always gravitate to. Even Merle has made an appearance, trying to get a very short and curvy black woman to dance with him. Michonne's uncle, Sasha's father is here, as are a few of her brothers, though sadly my favorite of them, Tyreese, is nowhere to be found. I even see Shane sitting on a couch in the front room with Andrea perched on his lap. Given the variety of attendees, I'm certain that if Sasha does show up, as her and Spencer promised to do, things are going to get even more interesting with their arrival, on top of our own list of surprising news.

Maggie follows us towards the kitchen, snapping photos, sending her camera's flash to temporarily blind us again, and adding to the general heightened dizzying elation of the moment, coupled with the music, and the overall revelry of the numerous people gathered. Moving through the crowd, removing my own brown suede coat, we have drawn Beth's attention from the center of the living room where she is showcasing her dance moves. She looks up at us while polishing off the last of her routine. Though still pitiful, and wild, with the stomping and spinning that she is known for, and the addition of a loudly bellowed song, everyone claps, gifting her with the praise she desires. Running towards us, she nearly topples Michonne in an awkward hug, where she thrusts herself at her torso, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Worried about the baby that's probably still too tiny to even register the tumbling effect of Beth's ecstatic hug, I gently attempt to ply her away from Michonne anyway, under the guise of stealing a hug from Beth for myself. "Hey little munchkin, where's my hug?" I ask, plucking her off of Michonne, and into my arms.

"Happy New Year! Did you guys bring me a present? You missed Christmas ya know." Wiggling and hugging me back, Beth eases from my arms, dropping back to her feet. Smoothing the ruffles of her dress, and crossing her little thin arms across her chest, she scrunches her face in question.

"Uh. Ya know, I do have presents for you guys, they are in my room. I'm sorry we missed Christmas, but we can still do gift exchange tonight. It'll be a fun way to ring in the new year, right, Beth?" Michonne offers, immediately softening the petulant pout of Beth's lips with her promise of gifts.

"Ok. But you missed it! I got my ears pierced, and Mama and Daddy got me real diamond earrings for Christmas." Turning her head from side to side, she showcases her new earrings, and Michonne and I dutifully gift her with a few oohs and ahhs, impressed by the fancy jewelry.

"Michonne has her own diamond bling now, Beth. Check her out!" Maggie lifts Michonne's hand again, raising it so that everyone now gathered in the kitchen can see.

"Rick, son, I guess congrats are officially in order now?" My dad queries, sidling up next to me, sporting a wide proud smile, that stretches and reaches the age weathered lines at the corner of his eyes. In a thick green, cable knit sweater, his hair curling around his ears as its growing out, and his beard thick with grey, my dad looks more pleased and content than I have ever seen him.

"Yep." I nod confidently, as Hershel and Mona gather our family around us, consisting of my father, Dale, Morgan's dad, Maggie, Beth, Mona, her brother, and a newly arriving Shane. Pouring flutes of champagne and passing them around, then offering Beth and Maggie two flutes of sparkling grape juice, Hershel attempts to quiet everyone for a toast.

Angling his body to the side, my dad pulls me close with his arm over my shoulder, and whispers. "I have a little news of my own. I left your mother. Staying over at Dale's for now."

"Really?" I ask, disbelieving the confession spilling from my father's lips. "I'm proud of you, Pop. This is big!"

"And long overdue. I watched you run away from there last week, going after your girl, and I realized that it's time for me to run away too."

Still stunned into a stupor from my father's news, my attention is drawn to the clinking sound of Hershel lightly tapping his wedding ring against his champagne flute. Standing tall, with one arm around the waist of his glamorous wife, Hershel begins to speak. "This has been one of the happiest years of my life. I got married again, to the most beautiful and amazing woman in the world. I found my way back to love, to life. And now…" he dramatically pauses for effect, and raises his glass towards Michonne and I, noting that Michonne does not have a glass in her hand. "Michy, baby, where is your glass? This toast is for you and Rick."

"Um…well… Rick?" Beautiful brown eyes, wide and wondering, like those of a doe, glimmering with tears and and love, are set on my own as Michonne poses the question to me. "Should we lay it all out for everyone now?"

"Hershel, we don't wanna steal your thunder or nothing, but... Michonne?"

"We're getting married, I'm pregnant, and I got accepted to Harvard law. We're gonna move to Boston next year after the baby gets here!" She announces, rushing through the list of life changing news all in one breath. "Whew! Did you guys get all of that?" She asks, scanning the shocked faces of everyone gathered. "Oh, and Happy New Year!" Michonne juts her left hand in the air, then turns it, and wiggles her fingers to show off her engagement ring.

"Wait a damn minute! Michy, you're pregnant? I'm going to be a grandma? Hershel did you hear that? Is that what she said? I'm too young to be a grandma, right?" Mona asks, swiveling her head in confusion from Michonne's face to her stomach, then over to Hershel, who is equally stupefied by the announcement.

"I think she did just say I'm gonna be a granddaddy and you're gonna be a grandmamma, Mona! Me and you are gonna share a grandkid, Rance! We couldn't have come out better if we had planned this ourselves! What do you say, old man?" Hershel questions, hugging his shocked wife even tighter to his side with one arm, and reaching out to snatch my father's cigar from his lips with his other. "Beth, go in my office and grab that box of cigars out of my top desk drawer. It's a real party now." He nods, planting a big kiss on his wife's trembling lips, as tears threaten to streak her face again.

Taking note of the proximity of the quickly approaching midnight hour, Maggie interrupts the rounds of congratulations offered our way, and yells out. "Hey y'all, it's about to be midnight!"

As if understanding that the cigars her father asked her to retrieve would be the perfect addition to a New Year's countdown, Beth returns and begins passing out cigars to everyone but Michonne. "Pregnant women can't smoke. So you just have to watch." She points out to Michonne, shrugging her shoulders in apology that Michonne is being left out of the smoking part of the celebration.

"That's alright, I still get the midnight kiss. Right, Rick?"

"Oh absolutely! Come here, let's practice a little." Intoxicated by the quick gulp of champagne, and the excitement surrounding us, I capture Michonne's lips in a soft, wet kiss. I'm just getting started, warming up and ready to taste her mouth, when Shane boorishly interrupts.

"Well ain't this a bitch? Got yourselves knocked up, and shacked up. And you're gonna become a couple of Boston Yankees, huh? Couldn't happen to a better set of people. Congrats!" Squeezing us both in a constricting hug, it's clear that Shane is drunk, given the smell of beer and liquor that is wafting from his breath. His mood is still celebratory though, which I'm grateful for. Or should I say, at least it was until a new voice, feminine and sophisticated joins the raucous hum of those already sequestered in the kitchen.

From the corner of my eye, I spot her coming through the entry way to the kitchen, followed closely behind by a new family member that no one but Michonne and I have met. Catching Michonne's worried gaze, I nod at her, gesturing my head towards the back door, and easing us from Shane's bear hug. Stepping away, with my arm protectively around her waist, I cautiously back her up to the patio door, away from the pending powder keg explosion that I'm sure Sasha's arrival is going to cause.

"Happy New Year, family! What have I missed?" Sasha says in that sassy and slightly snarky way of hers, announcing her arrival, and that of her husband. Passing out hugs and cheek kisses to her father and Mona, she gestures behind her with a sweep of her hand over her shoulder. "I want to introduce everyone to my husband. Everybody, this is Spencer. We got married on Christmas. In Vegas."

"What!?" her father and aunt exclaim, both clearly taken aback by such uncharacteristic news from Sasha, and probably still reeling from Michonne's earlier reveal.

"The fuck you say?" Shane yells, his eyes laser focused on her face, as his own quickly colors beet red.

"This has been one wild couple of days, hasn't it?" Michonne drowsily offers, swaying to the music, lazily swaddled in my arms as we have taken our little piece of the New Year's revelry out towards the side of the house where my truck is parked. Allowing her head to drift forward and rest on my chest. I kiss the cottony soft, curly hair on the crown of her head. Its short twists glistening under the moon's bluish light, and smelling of coconut and lavender.

"It has. Are you tired? Ready for bed? Want me to take you upstairs?" I ask, the words leaving my lips on soft breaths whispered over her head. Once the clock struck midnight, and the new year rolled over, heralded by some drunken and jubilant kisses, hugs, and well wishes, Michonne's parents cloistered us away in the study for a brief talk. Going back over Michonne's weighty announcement, and discussing the drama from Christmas with my mother and Lori, they offered their home to me, noting that when school is out, Michonne and I can stay here together as long as we want.

I never thought I'd hear Hershel agree to something like that given his once staunch rules about even allowing boys upstairs, but he is so different now, and he even mentioned that his wife has opened his mind and his heart to a new way of approaching life. Relenting to some of her more progressive views, he concluded that the offer is extended because they want to help us succeed. And well, since this new and improved Hershel is offering a way for Michonne and I to be together while we prepare for the baby, and then a big move up to Boston, I found myself once again nearly moved to tears as I thanked him for helping me take care of my family, and that I will forever be grateful to him.

Running my hands up and down her back, they fall back to her ass with my palms cupping the jiggly softness that always feels like their natural home. Noticing that she never answered if she was ready for bed or not, I peer down into her face. "Michonne? Did you hear me?"

"Hm? Yeah, I'm tired. It's been a long day, husband." Cheekily, she calls me by the name that only she and I, and two other people in the world know me as. "I like calling you that." Sleepily she giggles, and the sweet, dulcet tones of her laughter stiffen my cock in my khaki pants.

"Oh yeah, pretty girl, you like that? You happy I'm your husband, my little wife?" Pulling her up to her tip toes, crushing her form tighter to me, I'm hoping she can feel the burgeoning erection, stiff and heavy between my legs. I lower my face to hers, sampling the addictive sugar of her lips. Teasing a whimper and a groan from her, licking away the remainder of her red lipstick from her juicy lips, my hands roam underneath the mid-thigh length, gold sweater dress she's wearing. Shoving my hands inside of her thick black tights, I find her panty-less, and groan at the sensation of her unobstructed and heated skin against my greedy palms.

"Rick…"

"Hm? I've been good all day."

"How do you figure you've been good all day? We just had sex this morning."

"It's a new year and a new day. That was yesterday, last year. And, as soon as Hershel said we could move in with him, together, I could have dragged you upstairs to defile you then. But, no, I controlled myself. Even as I watched you dance with other men in this little tight dress, grinning at them with your pretty red lips."

"That was my uncle Ronnie, and the other guy was Mike's dad. You're so ridiculous."

"Huh. That's even worse." I twist my lips in a dissatisfied groan at the mention of that other guy's name. "I thought I told you before I don't like the sound of that guy's name on your lips."

"Rick, I was just saying, his mom and dad were friends with my parents before he and I were even thought of."

"They're going to tell him you know. Do you care?"

"No. I'm glad they're going to tell him. That way he will know for sure there will never be another chance for me and him. It's done. I belong to you. You're my husband and I'm having your baby. Do you care if someone tells Lori?" She asks, raising her eyes to me with a measure of trepidation, seemingly nervous in anticipation of my answer.

Needing to put an end to any further discussion of her, I playfully squeeze her ass in my hands, and answer with finality. "Lori who? You and our baby are the only girls that matter to me."

Pleased with my answer, she begins to rub her lithe fingers through my beard, scratching lightly at my face with her manicured nails. The sensation is so delicious that I have to drop my lids, and steady my breathing. Pecking at my lips, Michonne counters my statement. "You mean me and your son?"

"Stop calling my daughter a boy, and give me those lips." I beg, opening my eyes, needing more of her. Bending towards her, dipping my knees even more, I lick at her lips, and suck them into my mouth, finally dragging her bottom lip slowly between my teeth.

"You know there are people everywhere, we can't do this out here." Panting at my amorous attention, Michonne squirms in my arms, lips slightly parted as she steals a few staggered breaths in between kisses.

"I need you so bad, pretty girl. You look so beautiful, and sexy in this dress. I need to fuck my wife." I declare into the crook of her neck, the light, crisp scent of her perfume urging me to suck and bite at the delicate dip at the hollow of her throat. Backing her up I open the door of the passenger side, back seat of my truck. With my hands below her ass cheeks, I lift her up and plop her down on the seat. Standing in between her legs I begin to slowly drag her tights down over her ass and thighs, stopping at the tops of her tall boots. "Take these off." Stepping back to give her some space to remove her boots, I unbuckle my belt and unbutton my khakis.

Leaving my pants open, I'm not yet ready to remove my dick. Watching her remove the boots, and toss the tights to the floor of the truck, I can feel the overly excited sensation of growing arousal rising inside of me, and I need to calm myself before I allow myself to be too rough with my wife. Despite her usual pleas that I be rougher, fuck her harder, my head won't let me forget that she is the most precious thing in my world, and that she is carrying the second most precious thing within her womb. Not wanting to tempt fate, or to hurt either of them in any way, I have to pull my urges to ravage and devour her back a bit. It's hard though. Especially when she's like she is right now. Reaching for me and unbuttoning my shirt, she's begging, and writhing against my chest and groin, her sexy body flush against my throbbing dick.

Cradling me in between the cushioned flesh of her thighs, kissing my lips, moaning into my mouth, Michonne has me trapped in a web of desire, where all I can see, hear, touch, or taste is her. She is everything, and my dick is twitching, eager to bury itself in her wet depths. Cloaked in privacy gifted to us by the shadow from the hulking house beside the truck, Michonne backs up into the back seat until she is fully inside. Thinking quickly that a little extra privacy never hurt, I snatch a blanket that I keep in the tool box mounted at the back of the bed of the truck. Hoisting myself up in to the back seat with my wife, I wrap us both up in the warmth of the blanket, and settle in between her legs.

Dipping to once again lick and taste her lips, Michonne's fingers play at the hairs of my beard, stroking across my cheeks, as she licks her tongue out and tickles and traces along the outside of my lips. Licking her palm and lowering her hand, she reaches into my pants and underwear and takes a firm hold of my dick. Fisting my length, Michonne starts a slow tug and pull, up and down, dissolving any coherent thought floating through my head. Her hand is small and can barely wrap around my thick girth, or cover my stiff length, but it's warm, and the feeling of her working me into a frenzy is nearly more pleasure than I can withstand.

"You're so hard, daddy." Smiling up at me with a mischievous grin on her full lips, she continues to lick and swipe at my own, and a creeping tingle eases from tightening balls, preparing to claim my resistance.

Biting at my chin, licking her wet tongue up and down my throat, Michonne is robbing me of coherence and I can barely utter one word. "Fuck…" I won't last long with all of the teasing, and I need to distract her. Wrapping my hand snugly around her wrist, I gently urge her to remove her hand from my dick. Replacing her hand with my own, I grasp the base and then run the blunt tip up and own her thick pussy lips. Coating my dick in her dripping arousal, I tap at her clit with the head, hearing the damp smack sting against the sensitive nub. Watching the pleasure and pain cross her face from the short little slaps of my dick, I decide to put us both out of our misery and plunge with one quick thrust into my wife.

Sinking and descending effortlessly through her moist, plump petals, the constricting squeeze of her canal lights every nerve ending in my dick on fire. Stilling at the shocking pleasure, there is a pulsing throb of her around me, and I need to steel myself against it, before I cum right now. Pulling her left leg up to rest on the headrest of the backseat, I grab her other leg, and allow it to drape across the crease of my bent elbow.

Looking down at her, at my beautiful, sexy wife, pinned so prettily beneath me, at my mercy, there is a nagging itch tingling at the base of my brain, demanding for me to dominate her. To sate us both by fucking her roughly, as she whines and begs for me to do so. Running my hand over the pearl of her mound, and up to the nearly unnoticeable roundness of her stomach, I am reminded once again of the prize that rests within, and I find myself fighting and at odds with my basest instincts.

The other day we made love, fucked in this new rougher, more tempestuous manner that her appetite has been soliciting. And after a sweaty thirty-minute session, with her head tossing face down, back and forth in the pillows, with her ass in the air, she later experienced some light pinkish spotting that launched me into another panicked search of WebMD. And once again, my fears were assuaged, though the tiniest voice in the back of my Michonne obsessed mind admonished me for being so loutish with her, even if she asked for it.

Wrapping my hand softly behind her neck, I struggle to only lightly graze and grasp, inserting my thumb between the kiss swollen lips of her pouty mouth. But, Michonne, the naughty mistress of my dreams, knows she has power over me, that she can lead and bend me to her will on nothing but a whim. She begins to slowly lift and wind her ass beneath me, breaking away my crumbling resistance to her inclination for a faster, gruffer fuck. In offering, she is somehow internally choking and easing her glove tight pussy against my sensitive flesh. That nagging tingle causes me to lose the strength that is holding me up, and I unwittingly begin to drop more of my weight on her. Seemingly with a life of their own, my hips begin to roll and pump, pushing and drilling into her with an abrupt, sharp edge to punctuate each thrust.

"Unh, Rick! Yessssssss… that's it!"

"I don't want to…hurt you…the baby…" I mutter into the fragrant skin of her neck, wincing at the tight, stinging grasp of her fingers tugging and taking hold of my hair.

"I'm your wife, Rick, I belong to you. You can't hurt me." She promises on a sultry whisper into my ear, recalling our sacred vows gifted to each other in earnest. "I'm your dirty, nasty, girl, Rick. Fuck me like it, daddy! I need it…" She whines. Somehow sensing my internal struggle for dominance over my enslaving dependence and deference to her needs, she uses all the words that she knows will send me over the edge, and continues to grind and pop her hips up against me.

To ease the lurking heckle of my overbearing addiction to her, my hips crudely crash, in a bruising manner against hers, eliciting the most glorious whimper and wail to escape her. Wildly, she's grasping and reaching for me, her nails scratching across the expanse of my back. The sting only heightens the pleasure, and I can't stop my hips from navigating my dick's rapid exploration into the deepest part of her.

A series of erotic, high pitched moans flow from her, saturating the air with the evidence of her pleasure. "Ah, ah, ah, ah… Uhhh, uh…"

"You want everyone to hear me fucking you?"

Biting down on her lip, she tries to stem the vibrant sounds of her panting and wailing, crying for more. "Oh god! Oh god! Right there…shit… that's it, Rick! Right there…"

"Is that how you like to be fucked, pretty girl?"

"Yes, Rick, yes! Mmmmm…it's so good, daddy!" She answers through her orgasm, her head carelessly tossed back, crooked against the armrest of the door. Cradling her head, to keep her from hurting herself, I ease my hasty thrusts to a more stable and smooth rhythm. Digging deep, I can feel my cum ready to burst from my dick, as my balls tighten and slap against the sensitive flesh at the crease of her ass.

Growling out a long breath, my body grows increasingly tense at the blast of pleasure surfing in waves throughout my limbs. "Fuck!" Tightening, my features freeze, eyes tightly shut, then release and grow slack with the rumbling of an elevated and satisfying thrill.

Adoringly, my gaze roams her beautiful face. Shadowed and hidden from the world by the darkness of the night, I'm witnessing the ecstasy that animates her features, and causes crude pleas to cross her lips. I'm instantly awash with the heated glow of love for my wife, the mother of my child, as I can literally see her orgasm continue to grip her, and feel her tightening on my dick. The repeated throbbing pulse, chokes and milks my cum from the head, weakening me as it sputters and leaves her insides dripping with a mix of our shared enjoyment. Pulling my hips back, and withdrawing from her, there is a slow slip of sticky white cum that leaks and settles onto the juicy lips of her mound. Rubbing it across her skin with my fingers, a tiny bit remains. Knowing that she enjoys the salty and tangy taste of my cum, I lift my fingers to her mouth in offering, and she licks and sucks away the evidence of our coupling.

Easing back to a seated position, I lift Michonne's limp body to my lap. Straddling me, with her forehead resting against mine, we are both breathless, panting and fogging the windows.

"That was good."

"Mmhm." She lethargically nods, agreeing with my assessment. "I'm definitely sleepy now."

"Baby ok?"

"Which one? Me or your son?"

"You and my daughter." I laugh, cupping the back of her head in my palm. Drooping into a slouch until my knees hit the front seat, I bring Michonne's body down on top of mine, bearing the slight weight of her tiny body.

On a deep sigh, followed by a satisfied groan, Michonne rests her head on my shoulder, and wrangles her arms low around my waist. Bringing the blanket up around our bodies again, we hear someone barging from the house, and a loud bang of the screen door clanging against the frame.

"Stop fucking following me, Shane!"

"Then stop trying to avoid me, woman!"

"I'm not trying to avoid you, I just don't have anything to say to you. Now fuck off!"

Wiping at the fogged up window, Michonne raises to peer out to see Sasha stomping away from the back of the house and out towards Hershel's office. With Shane hot on her heels, hollering and arguing with her every step of the way, Sasha continues to reprimand him for his pursuit. Michonne quirks an eyebrow at me, questioning if we should do something to intervene. Shaking my head, I hug her back tightly to my body, snuggling her into my hold.

"Let them work it out." I offer into the silence of the car, kissing her along her temple to settle her.

Outside of the car though, towards the side of Hershel's office, where we can still easily pickup their conversation, Shane finally has Sasha cornered.

"What the hell you bring that guy here for, huh? Talking about you're married. What the hell is that?"

"He's my husband, Shane. Like I said inside, we got married in Vegas last week."

"Your lips are moving, and you keep saying something, but I don't understand what the hell you're talking about. You can't just go get married to some random fucking guy. What about me?"

"What about you? You shut me out, talking about you weren't trying to be serious. That's cool. So I moved on, and now you are out here harassing me for…" Sasha pauses, looks around as though she is searching for something then snaps her fingers. "No damn reason. What, your ego hurt or something?"

"Listen here, woman, you know I liked you. You just, you're intense. We needed to slow the hell down, and figure some shit out. But, you know how I feel about you."

"Wrong. I don't. And I don't care. Let me help you with something. When I used to get shuffled to my granny's house, while my parents were too busy cheating on each other and getting divorced to raise their little girl, she used to tell me something that I have remembered all my life. She told me to find a man that loves me more than I love him, that way I could avoid a broken heart. You know what, playboy? She was right. I confided in you and told you that I was feeling you, and what did you do? You wouldn't even return a phone call, a text, nothing. So, now that I found someone who loves me, and I don't have to risk or do anything but let him do that, you want to come at me sideways. And for that, all I have left to say to you, Shane, is a big…fat…fuck you!"

Silence settles between them, and only the sounds of the night, and the hum of the party still raging from inside the house remain. Walking away from Sasha, then returning, then taking off into a quick pace back and forth, Michonne and I can see that Shane isn't done yet. Running his hands roughly over his newly shaved head, I can tell he's struggling with how to proceed. Finally stopping, he rests his anxiety ridden hands at his waist, then leans into her, angling his body towards hers. "I'm calling bullshit on this this whole damn thing, girl. I told you that I could fall in love with a woman like you. But for a fucked up guy like me…that's complicated. We were doing just great, having a good time, until you needed me to be somebody I can't be just yet. I can't give you what I ain't got, but I would try. I could try. Now, it's too late cause you decided to jump from one dick to the next and marry the first rich sap you could find." He tosses his hands in the air in frustration, and the next thing we can make out is the sound of a slap ripping through the air, and the toss of Shane's head swiftly to the side.

"Don't you ever fix your hillbilly lips to talk me to ever again. Do you hear me? I wasn't going to wait around for some desperate hillbilly to get his shit together long enough to drag me down. I'm not going to lay up with you on some farm, popping out kids, in the middle of nowhere while you play the Dukes of Fucking Hazard! I accepted the proposal for a real life, from the first man who offered me the world. I will never have to worry about him hurting me, because while I don't love him, he definitely loves me!" Trying to step around him, Shane won't allow it, blocking each of her maneuvers.

"That idiot in there might love you, but who do you love? Hm? Me! That's who. We had the best sex of both of our lives, and we could have had an amazing life together. Instead you wanna trade that to be some bored, rich, soul less housewife who's going to miss a desperate hillbilly like me. I am desperate. Desperately in love with you, but you can't fucking see that!" Shane yells at her, grabbing her hand and placing it over his heart. "What do you want me to do?" He groans, sounding very much like a man in pain.

"Nothing. There is nothing left to do. It's too late, I'm sorry." Sasha weakly apologizes and tries to dismiss him and walk away again. Holding on to her hand, he won't release her, even as she is clearly making a feeble, half-hearted attempt to be free of him. "Let me go, Shane, please. I have to get back inside."

"No."

"Please? Let's not do this."

"No. Let's do this." Gruffly snatching her back towards him, he pulls her to him, and kisses her. Kissing him back, no longer fighting the chemistry and emotion boiling between them, she raises her arms to circle his neck. Picking her up, Shane lowers her back on the side of Hershel's office, and from there the only sounds that can be heard are the clearly satisfied moans, kisses, and grinding thud of their bodies smacking against each other.

Raising her eyes to mine in disbelief, Michonne asks me in a low cautious whisper, "Are they having sex?"

"Yep."