Contingent – Chapter 19 | Sing for me, baby

Chapter 19 | Sing for me, baby

song (n.)

Old English sang “voice, song, art of singing; metrical composition adapted for singing, psalm, poem,” from Proto-Germanic *songwho- (source also of Old Norse söngr, Norwegian song, Swedish sång, Old Saxon, Danish, Old Frisian, Old High German, German sang, Middle Dutch sanc, Dutch zang, Gothic saggws), from PIE *songwh-o- “singing, song,” from *sengwh- “to sing, make an incantation” (see sing (v.)).

Phrase for a song “for a trifle, for little or nothing” is from “All’s Well” III.ii.9 (the identical image, por du son, is in Old French. With a song in (one’s) heart “feeling joy” is first attested 1930 in Lorenz Hart’s lyric. Song and dance as a form of vaudeville act is attested from 1872; figurative sense of “rigmarole” is from 1895.

Saint John’s Health Center, Santa Monica – Five days later

Helplessly, Michael just kept sitting by Lisa’s side as tears streamed down her face. Feeling completely powerless, he reached out and took her hand on the bed. She kept her face turned away from him, her eyes staring at the cityscape, outside the window, but her fingers grasped his. Well, at least she wasn’t sending him away.

Doctor Mcfadden had been very clear. In the six weeks after giving birth, a woman’s body needed to heal. In Lisa’s case, they had to pay some extra attention given her blood clotting disorder. Albeit some bleeding was absolutely normal, and was actually expected after childbirth, her condition still caused some concern. Michael did not doubt that Lisa would eventually be fine, he felt it in his heart that her treatment would work and her body would recover. But he was very much worried about her emotional state.

After the giddy first hours following Paris’ birth, Lisa had progressively begun to fold all over herself. It all had started with nothing but a remote, quiet attitude, which was something uncharacteristic anyway. Then, within a couple of days, it had become a pretty depressed mood.

Michael had prodded and prodded until, finally, she had told him how she felt. She felt unwell. Weak. Unable to take care of herself, her baby, and him. Useless. Disgusting. He had seen the bright red blood she had lost during the first twenty-four hours after delivering the baby. He had freaked out, he was terrified, but not for a second he had thought of her as disgusting or – as Lisa had defined herself – “wrong.” The only thing that had been able to comfort her was that Paris hadn’t inherited her blood disorder. Thank goodness for small things…

“Lise…”

She didn’t move, but sniffled.

“I almost killed our baby with my body, Michael… Can you imagine?” Her voice sounded raspy, and he could tell that her desperation was even greater than she let on. And yet she needed to understand that this was not her fault at all. She could not know. In fact, even he had felt so bad, realizing that he had constantly blamed her “ill intentions” for not becoming pregnant during their marriage when, in fact, it had been entirely out of her volition. At least at the beginning, when she had told him that she did want to have his kids. Afterward, their apparent inability to procreate had turned into her flat-out intention to wait, which had become one of the millstones yanking them down, tearing them apart, and finally destroying them to the core. No matter the reason. Too much shit had piled up, and they had just drowned in it.

It had taken a one-night-stand and one too many glasses of wine to get to the finish line and have the baby they had dreamed so much about, when they were still clean, unadulterated, trustworthy. Now the tricky part was building that trust again, and not only because there was a baby involved. Well, two, actually.

“You didn’t kill our baby.”

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.” This time, his grip on her hand tightened and she finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were so sad. And she looked so pale.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. You don’t deserve this. I’m sorry I am not emotionally stable right now…”

“Baby, it’s fine. You’re exhausted. You aren’t feeling well. You have all the right in the world not to be at your best. But you will be. Mark my words. You’ll come home very soon, and we’ll be happy.”

She chuckled as tears still streamed down her face. He was so sweet. Trying so hard to make her feel better. But she had been so afraid, so afraid her body would fail her, and only after Paris was safe she had realized how terrified she was. She also felt she had let Michael down again somehow. He had one beautiful, healthy, full-term baby boy at home, waiting for him while he was stuck in a hospital, and a premature baby girl who was still in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit… thanks to her mother’s broken body. Lisa could barely stand up for more than ten minutes, let alone take care of Paris.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to focus on Michael. After what had happened with Deborah, he didn’t need all this drama and she had to get a grip on herself. It had never been so hard and she wondered why she could not calm herself down. Sure, the doctor had told her that her body had to adjust to the treatment, and that mood swings could occur after giving birth, but this was not just baby blues. This was not normal. This was an unstoppable wave of sorrow. This was the avalanche of fear and pain she had been swallowing since her marriage to Michael had started to disintegrate. And yet she could not allow herself to get swept away. Especially now.

Doctor Mcfadden’s words after the baby’s birth swirled in her mind.

“Paris still has some issues in maintaining her body temperature, but that’s quite common with preterm babies. Our number one priority now is feeding, to help her gain weight. She’s about 5,3 pounds now, which is good, but she needs to keep showing steady, regular weight gain over several days to a week. She’s gonna be OK.”

She inhaled a deep breath, thinking how sweet it was to see Michael feed their baby when she was too weak to do it.

Detach from yourself for a minute, Lisa. Focus on something else. On someone else. Get out of your fucking bubble.

Her hand came up and rested on Michael’s cheek. Immediately, his palm covered hers and he leaned into her touch. His eyes told her that he needed their connection now more than ever, and another pang of guilt assaulted her suddenly. It was a dog chasing its own tail.

“You’re stubbly…”

Michael smiled, ever so slightly, but stayed in the caress.

“I know. I haven’t shaven in a week or so…” He blinked. “Shoot, I don’t remember the last time I did it, honestly.”

“That’s because you haven’t been resting enough. Michael… you look so tired. You need to go home. You can’t keep taking showers here or at your mom’s… sleeping on that armchair over there. Your back…”

“It’s fine…”

“No, baby, it’s not. You keep going back and forth from Hayvenhurst to this hospital. It’s not healthy. You have to rest for real. Plus… your tour is gonna start again soon… You gotta take care of yourself, Mike.”

“Lisa, what are you saying? I don’t care about the tour right now.”

It was the truth, and yet he knew she had a point. He was drained. But every time he thought he could leave, at least for the night, the scary list of Lisa’s symptoms kept him tethered there. Shortness of breath. Trouble breathing. Chest pain. Rapid heart rate. Dizziness.

The idea of something happening to her. Of losing Lisa… Of being away from her if something ever happened. His mind couldn’t even go there without him feeling like he could not breathe any longer.

And Paris… She was all in all OK, but still not completely out of the woods yet. Doctor Mcfadden had been very clear: despite having been born about a month earlier than expected, she was a pretty healthy baby. But having a premature baby was still scary as fuck for any parent: it didn’t matter how many times the doctor had repeated, ad nauseam, that their baby girl was just being kept at the hospital for basic observation and some special care. She was still in the incubator and under a higher caloric intake, and still potentially susceptible to infections and viruses. The good thing was that she could now be fed regularly, but still… Michael needed – and Lisa did too – to hear the old man say that Paris was ready to go home and start living a normal life. Up until then, Doctor Mcfadden could not expect anyone to be fine and peachy.

“Look, I tell you what. Perhaps I’ll go home for a few hours, OK? I will shave, take a shower and get some sleep in our bed. But in a little while…” He tried to soothe Lisa the only way he could, without promising something he was not so sure he could really deliver.

He also wasn’t so prone to step outside, knowing well that the press now was very much aware of what was going on. The paparazzi were in a frenzy. News of Lisa in the hospital had been released by Lynsey, Michael’s new publicist, the moment someone from Debbie’s camp had given a teary-eyed interview about how Michael had ignored her during the birth of their child. Of course, the article made him look like the usual lunatic: showing up in New York only when the dust had settled, treating Deb as coldly as humanly possible, and leaving with the baby as soon as he could – in complete disregard of her emotional state.

When Lynsey had called him to tell him that Deborah herself was probably the source, he hadn’t even been surprised. Not by the revelation in itself, and frankly not even by the lies that interview with “someone close to the former couple” was filled with.

Lynsey’s PR strategy, once again, had worked well: fight every single lie with a well-crafted, carefully selected tidbit of truth. If and whenever possible, do it even before the lie reaches someone’s ear.

Unsurprisingly enough, the interest in that first news about the surrogate mother had become fainter and fainter the moment the announcement had been made that Lisa and Michael were now proud parents of a baby girl, and also welcoming a baby boy coming from Michael’s surrogacy agreement. It all sounded so conventional and unconventional at the same time.

Then the inescapable hysteria had started, with all its pros and cons. The hospital had been swarmed with flowers, letters, phone calls. A crowd of fans had been standing before the building non-stop. Lisa’s and Michael’s families had been almost assaulted while trying to get into the hospital: from Katherine and Joseph to Michael’s siblings, to Priscilla, even to Riley and Ben. Nobody seemed to be immune. The moment was way too hectic for anyone who was connected to the golden couple to be ignored.

Handling the families had been tricky, as well. Katherine had seemed relieved, but Michael could tell that she was still not entirely OK with how things had gone down, and that she was probably wondering how official her son’s family would ever be. Joseph had been his usual self, although Michael had noticed some tenderness arising in him, too. To the point that it had occurred to him that the terrifying, hard father would turn into a soft, affable granddad. Plus, Michael knew how much Joe loved Lisa.

Riley and Ben, God bless their souls, were simply over the moon at the idea of one – or two – new babies in the house. Janet had already started referring to herself as “auntie.” The other brothers were just happy. Priscilla… well, she had mainly stayed in Lisa’s room, but on one occasion Michael had found her staring quietly at Paris through the glass of the nursery, as if she was trying to get used to the idea of this new human being that was now part of her life, too, somehow. Michael had walked over to her and they had just stayed there for a little while, side by side, not uttering a word. Eventually, Priscilla had turned to look at him.

“Congratulations, Michael… She is beautiful.”

“She looks like Lisa, don’t you think?”

“She does. And like you, too.”

He had just smiled because, honestly, what else could he do?

It was the truth. Paris was amazing. She was a perfect mixture of her parents. The resemblance stood out already.

And that had been pretty much it. And yet, although it was clear that Priscilla still felt nothing but condescension for him, Michael had noticed something in her eyes. A spark. A light he had never seen before. He had started thinking that whatever antipathy she had for him, it would not reflect on the baby. Her granddaughter. Children did hold so much power, after all…

“Michael?”

He blinked and looked up at Lisa, realizing he had spaced out for a moment.

“Are you OK?”

He gave her a strained smile.

“Yeah… Just a bit tired.”

“That’s right. See? Go home, baby. Go sleep in a real bed for a few hours…” She tugged at his hand. “Please. For me?”

Half-heartedly, he nodded his head and rose from the chair. His legs felt numb.

“Are you gonna be here when I come back?” His lopsided smirk made her smile. Good.

“Where else do you expect me to be? Holed up in some hotel room with my secret lover?”

His eyebrows sprung up, playfully. “Is he still around? Son of a bitch. I’ll have to kick his ass…”

She laughed, lowly, and he leaned over, framing her face, kissing her lips gently, again and again. God, he hated leaving her. The realization was startling, shocking even, but maybe not so much after all. He had always hated leaving her – even when in fact he did go. Only, being away from his woman had now become increasingly difficult. His perspectives were shifting again, inexorably, and he wondered how much a man could change without losing himself in the process.

Before he touched the door handle, Lisa spoke again. Her voice faint, but confident.

“Mike?”

“Yes, baby…” He spun on his heels and looked at her. She was back at staring at the cityscape outside the window.

“When I get better… I was thinking…” She scrunched her forehead.

“Yes?”

“I want to leave the church.”

He just stared at her, stunned, not really knowing what to say. Yes, perspectives and mindsets did change. For everyone.

A few hours later, Michael finally dragged his feet inside Hidden Hills. The moment he opened the front door and stepped into the foyer, he was met by the quiet darkness of the empty house and realized how utterly exhausted he was. Not even the staff was there, and he was grateful to be alone.

After leaving Lisa, he had gone back to Hayvenhurst, wanting to personally take care of Prince – bathing him and feeding him, singing to him, cradling him to sleep, trying so hard to make him understand that his dad was there.

The nurse he had hired to help him and his family with the baby told him that Prince was perfectly fine: he was healthy, slept and ate regularly and looked utterly peaceful. That was a great consolation for Michael, who spent a few hours in his son’s room, whispering to him that soon he would meet his baby sister… and hopefully his new mama. Staring at the baby, whose still veiled eyes looked unfocused and pensive, he felt the bittersweet taste of tears scalding his throat.

When Prince had fallen asleep and he had gone downstairs again, ready to leave for Hidden Hills, he had found his mother at the bottom of the stairs, in the hall. Katherine had watched him with concern.

“Michael… Did you eat at all today? Don’t you want to stay for dinner, at least?”

He had just shrugged his shoulders, leaning in and kissing her cheek. He wasn’t even remotely hungry.

“No, mother, thank you. I think I’m going to head back to Hidden Hills. I promised Lisa Marie I would get some sleep.”

“You can stay here for the night if you want. You know that. This is still your house.”

Michael had smiled, tiredly.

“Yeah. But you know me. If I stay here with Prince, I won’t be able to rest.”

Katherine had replied with a sigh, and her worried eyes had kept following him as he put on his jacket and went to the living room to say his goodbyes. When he had walked back to the hall, his mother was still there, and he had put his hat on, smiling at her.

“What’s wrong, mother?”

“Nothing… It’s just… Son, you look so weary. And you look like you’ve lost weight.”

Michael had straightened his back, trying to appear bigger than he was. The first, automatic reaction to his mother’s words – which he knew to be very much true.

“No, I don’t think I have. But I do need some rest, you’re right. Anyway, as soon as Lisa and Paris get better and come home, everything will be back on track, you’ll see.”

“And then? What are you going to do next, Michael?” Katherine had her own, soft ways to ask the most difficult questions in the world. Especially when her son didn’t have an answer ready on the tip of his tongue.

“And then we’ll throw a huge party and celebrate. Goodnight mother, sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?” He had kissed his mother’s cheek once again, and then had left.

Now he climbed up another staircase, this time directed to the bedroom he and Lisa had shared during their marriage and more recently, as well, since their reconnection. Putting aside his quick stop-and-go right after Prince’s birth, this was the first time that Michael truly came back home since flying back from New York. How empty and lonesome the house felt without Lisa and the kids. And yet, he didn’t think he could find solace anywhere else right now – not even at Neverland. This was the place where his hope for the future had bloomed again, and it still felt like home, despite being, in fact, only Lisa’s house. He hadn’t put a penny in it, and she had kept living there even after their divorce. Now, he could easily imagine this same place filled with laughter and joy and love once again. And kids. Four. For starters.

The idea produced great glee and painted a small grin on his face. If things went the way he hoped, he was pretty sure that, eventually, he and Lisa would not have only one child on their own. But he was not going to say anything like that to her right now. There was so much to sort through, still…

Try not to forget that you guys are still walking on eggshells, man… Who knows what’s gonna happen tomorrow?

Once he reached the large corridor on the first floor, his attention was caught by the nursery he knew Lisa had set up for Paris. The door had been left ajar. Michael just stood there for a minute, then walked over to the room and pushed the door open gently, turning the lights on. He was curious to see how Lisa had decorated the space for their baby daughter.

Only, that was not what she had done. Michael froze on the threshold, unable to think for a minute, letting his senses absorb what he saw and his soul react as naturally as possible. He realized he had been holding his breath and let it go.

The nursery had been set up not for one, but for two newborns. Two cribs and two bassinets were there. Baby clothes, too. The ones he and Lisa had chosen together in Memphis, but others he had never seen before, as well. Baby boy clothing. For Prince. Almost reverently, finally Michael brought himself to step into the room and observed the two cribs, all nice and ready for the arrival of their children. The whole space was animal-themed, painted and furnished in warm colors. A funny-looking, wooden giraffe had been placed in a corner. Plush toys had been piled up on the rocking chair and the small sofa against the wall. A fuzzy, ocean-blue carpet covered the floor. Basically, the whole space had been prepared to welcome a set of twins.

Since Paris’ birth, Michael and Lisa had not spoken at all about their arrangements involving Prince. Michael had decided just to avoid the subject, especially because Lisa was still so sick. She didn’t need any additional stress. And yet, what he found in that baby room told him that her intentions were very clear. When she had told him to come back home with his kid, over the phone, she had been serious. It had not been a spur of the moment thing. There had been moments when he had thought she was just trying to console him, but now… Now it was hard to be skeptical, mistrustful, cautious. So rooted in those old mechanisms.

It was right then and there that he finally allowed himself to break down. The chaos and pressure of the last week were finally taking a toll on him. It happened without any violence. It was not an outburst. Michael simply sat down on the carpet, wrapped his arms around his knees and all of a sudden realized that he was crying. Very quietly, very softly, but definitely crying. With joy, relief, sorrow, regret, remorse and hope. And, above anything else, love. An immense love for his woman and his children. It was incredible how even the biggest potential happiness could be permeated by intense sadness. But that was life, right?

“That’s life…” He mumbled to himself, sniffling and drying his eyes with the back of his hand. “That’s how it goes…”

Somehow, he got up and directed his tired steps toward the bedroom. On complete autopilot, the fatigue finally catching up with him, he took off his clothes and allowed himself to relax in the shower for a very long time, letting the hot water jet massage his sore muscles. Eyes closed, he inhaled the scent that reminded him of Lisa. Of home. Then he went to the walk-in closet, finding a t-shirt and some pajama pants. His mind was elsewhere, and he was unable to focus. Maybe tonight… maybe sleep would come. He just needed some rest.

Letting himself crumble on the bed, he turned off the light on the nightstand and closed his eyes. Before he could count to three, he was asleep.

When he opened his eyes again, it was well past nine in the morning.

“What the fuck…” He checked his watch again, squinting his eyes. “…Shit!”

His voice still raspy, Michael jumped out of bed, his muscles and joints sore as hell. He felt as if he had been run over by a tank – and it wasn’t even because he had spent hours making love to Lisa! Yeah… he did miss her that way, too. And he knew she would need some time before being able to… resume a particular type of activities. Well… Michael was confident they would find other ways to connect. Anything not to lose that special intimacy they shared.

Although utterly stiff, he felt replenished and quite rested. Also, hungry. Scratching his face, realizing that he was still stubbly and had completely forgotten to shave the night before, he suddenly remembered that Lisa kept some crackers in her nightstand. She would always joke about how starved she was when he subjected her to one of his sex marathons, and how she needed some extra calories to keep going. She would also point out that she was exhausted, too, to the point that her legs were way too wobbly to take her to the kitchen. Hence the snacks stashed in the drawer.

Mentally planning his day, which pretty much consisted in stopping by at Hayvenhurst to check on Prince again, making some business calls and then rushing over to his woman and his daughter, Michael started to hum to himself and opened Lisa’s nightstand. Optimization and multitasking were the keys: perhaps he could munch on some crackers while he shaved and got dressed.

The crackers were there, just as expected. But they were in good company, and he lost interest in them the moment he saw something else. It was a cassette tape.

Carefully, Michael extracted the small plastic box from Lisa’s drawer, recognizing her handwriting right away. At first, he thought it was some songs mix or something; only it was not. The wording didn’t say much, but it occurred to him that he might have found an unexpected treasure… something he was probably not even supposed to see. Something Lisa had never spoken about. Not to him, anyway.

“LMP
When You Go – V1
March ‘96”

Nothing else.

Michael frowned, turning the tape around in his hand. The right thing to do would be to put the thing back into the drawer, close it shut, and go on with his day as planned. And perhaps ask Lisa what the tape was about.

Or… he could just listen to it. His eyes narrowed.

Come on, man… You know how private she is. If she wants to talk about it, she will. But she hasn’t, so far. Put that thing back, it’s not your business!

Well, yeah. His internal voice was right, in a way. But still… Lisa was his business. And what bad a quick listening would do? Plus, it was not that he had broken a strongbox open or anything.

Put it back…

Biting his lips, Michael eyed the stereo in the corner of the room. So tempting…

Oh, fuck it!

He walked over, put the cassette in the slot, closed it and pressed play.

Static. Background noises. People were talking, but their voices were blurry and undefined and he could not discern the words. He did hear Lisa speaking, though. Then what sounded like a demo version of a song started. A song he had never heard before in his life. As Lisa’s voice began to sing, Michael just stood there, caught entirely off guard. He had heard her sing before, a few times, but this was different. This sounded recent. It was nothing he had ever heard, and it blew his mind. Lisa’s voice had changed so much, becoming stronger, way more confident. But it wasn’t only that.

“March 1996.”

According to the note, the tape had been recorded during their divorce proceedings. Lisa had written that song while they were separated, and he had been icing her out of his life. Refusing to take her calls. Not answering her messages, putting her letters aside. Giving her the silent treatment. Ignoring her. Acting as if she had never existed, all the while bleeding inside. He had been livid, hurt, disappointed, while she… Well, after a few months of groveling before the man who had shunned her, Lisa had entered that remote, cold twilight zone he had found her in, when they finally had reconnected. And apparently, it had happened after this recording, when she had gotten in touch with him about their prenuptial agreement.

And the moment his mind indeed tuned in to the lyrics, he realized how all her pain, all her suffering and fears had been channeled there. In what sounded like a beautiful, haunting, heartbreaking song. She had locked her heartbreak and her fallen hopes in those notes, and somehow she had learned to stop loving him. At least for a while.

Michael listened intently.

“So much to offer, so much to throw away
The ever-present darker side is making you color blind
But luckily my blinded one I know you and not what you’ve done
Not what you’ve done…

You beautiful soul
When you go, a feeling that chokes
When you go, a feeling that soaks
When you go, you go away
Into the unknown
When you go, you break my heart
Don’t you go, ‘cause it chokes
It chokes…”

His eyes fluttered closed as Lisa’s bluesy voice kept swirling around him, its tendrils wrapping themselves around his heart, strangling him.

“Given all you are inside
A shaft of light that you can’t hide
But an idle mind will dominate and feed all the demons steak
When you walk around that old street where you lived and who you were then
You can have it again
Everything’s not broke

When you go, a feeling that chokes
When you go, a feeling that soaks
When you go, you go away
Into the unknown
When you go, you break my heart
Don’t you go, ‘cause it chokes
It chokes…”

The chorus played one more time and then, slowly, the music faded to static again. The recording stopped and the room turned quiet.

The glimpse into Lisa’s most naked, most secret feelings still flickering behind his closed eyelids, Michael felt as if someone had punched him straight in the guts.

Lisa heard the door open and turned her head and, the moment she saw Michael, she smiled. Like she hadn’t done in days.

She had missed him so much. Yes, she had been the one asking him to please go home and sleep in a real bed, for a change, and she didn’t regret it. But the night without him had felt endless. She had never told him how comforting it was, for her, to wake up several times during the night and see that he was there, curled up in that armchair, covered with a blanket. He had no idea how beautiful he looked while he slept. Or at least as he tried to.

The previous night, she had decided to just soldier on and had gotten up for real.

Surprisingly enough, despite still feeling quite weak and dizzy, she had been able to walk to the nursery and finally observe her baby girl in complete peace, without any pressure or hurry. After a few minutes, one of the nurses had noticed her and, smiling, had asked her if she wanted to spend some quality time with her daughter.

Of course. Of course Lisa did. She didn’t even know why, but that apparently normal question had almost made her emotional. She was a mess.

And yet, when Paris had finally been brought to her room and she had been able to hold her for a very long time, and to feed her, Lisa had suddenly felt at peace. And so much better. It was true: a healing spirit helped the body recover as well. The only missing person there, at that very moment, was Michael. And at that point, Lisa simply could not wait for him to come back, just to show him the progress she had made. In the short span of about eighteen hours, she had managed to drag her heavy soul outside the bottomless pit she had fallen into.

She guessed it was because of Michael’s absence. Albeit temporary, it had given her a taste of what could have been if they had not reconnected and she would have to face life alone. It had felt like an electric shock. Lisa hadn’t even realized how much, for days, she had risked slipping into a complete pity party. Well… she was better now. Not well, but intentioned to get there for sure.

And the next morning, when Doctor Mcfadden had visited her, he too had acknowledged that she looked and seemed stronger than he had seen her for a while.

Michael smiled back at her.

“Hey… Uhm. I’m sorry I’m late. I overslept…”

Lisa opened her arms.

“Good. I’m glad you did, you needed it. Come here, baby…”

A little puzzled, he stepped closer, noticing that she was not lying in bed, but sitting on it. Kneeling down in front of her, he allowed her to take him into her warm, soft embrace, her hand in his hair, stroking and caressing. His face rested on her chest, and he inhaled deeply. She smelled so good… Another layer of desperation and fear got chipped away, just like that.

Maneuvering his head within her reach, Lisa leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. Gentle pecks. Then she backed off slightly, staring at him for a moment, her blue eyes deep and mysterious. Once again, she kissed him, and this time the tip of her tongue ran along his lips. A shiver ran down Michael’s spine and he opened up to her kiss, his own tongue now gently sliding into her mouth, caressing her in slow, tender strokes which she immediately reciprocated. Well, this was… great!

“Michael…”

“Yes…”

She broke the kiss and framed his face with both hands, caressing his now clean-shaven cheeks.

“I love you so damn much.”

“Gosh, Lise… I love you too.”

“So… how many photographers are there outside?”

“A bunch. Why?”

“Because if everything keeps going so well, baby, Paris and I will be able to go back home tomorrow…” She tried very hard not to burst out laughing with joy. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell that he, too, was doing his best to restrain himself.

“Are you serious?”

“Totally serious. You can ask Doctor Mcfadden. Yesterday evening, after you left, I started feeling much better…”

“Damn! Did I have to leave, for you to start recovering for real?”

“No, Michael… Quite the opposite, in fact.” Her smile turned from playful to slightly melancholic. Her thumb traced his chin, then his bottom lip. “You got no idea what it does to me, to see you leave.”

Oh, but I do, baby girl. Now I do.

“And I think it’s because of that, that my body started gearing up to beat this… baby blues, or whatever that is…” She tilted her head, studying him. “…Because I hope that you’ll never have to leave again.”

Replicating her gesture, he too took her face in his hands and kissed her again. Then his lips rested on her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“I’m gonna go see Paris, now… Wanna come with me?”

He felt her smile.

“Yes. How’s Prince?”

He pulled back and studied her face. She looked calm, composed.

“He’s good.” He was not sure he should say much more than that. This moment was so special, and yet so fragile. He was so scared to fuck it up with one single misstep.

“Are you going to bring him to Hidden Hills?”

“Do you want me to?” He tried to keep his voice even, despite his heart threatening to rip through his shirt.

Lisa smiled.

“Do you want to?”

Michael’s eyes lowered for a moment, then looked up again.

“I’ve seen the nursery.”

She just blinked, very slowly.

“Yeah? What do you think of it?”

“I love the giraffe.”

Lisa smiled.

“So? Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”