Epilogue – Michonne

"Michonne! Michonne! What can you tell us about this new season of Zombie Slayer?"

"Well, it's the tenth season, and I didn't think it would actually make it this far, so that's the first thing, which is absolutely amazing. And we couldn't have done it without the fans of my original comic online back when I was an undergrad, then when the books were published. And now the show. It's been so much more than I ever could have hoped for. Even though I had one person who way back when I was eighteen believed in this crazy story, when I was unsure. He was sure, and that gave me the confidence to get it out there and make it something that millions have enjoyed. That's kind of an epic blessing I think. So..." blowing out a breath I feel like I've said so much as I dash my gaze briefly to the left seeking him out, knowing in my heart there is so much more I should say. Give thanks for. "But also, as with all good things, this will be the last season of the show. The comic ended a few years ago, and we're wrapping up the show as well."

Immediately my statement is met by a flurry of boos, and whats, the crowd gathered in Hall H seemingly unable to believe that their beloved show is finally coming to an end. My eyes scan the faces of the disappointed fans gathered, packed into this room, a show of determined dedication to something that has become more than just a show about zombies. In commiseration with their somber feelings regarding the end of this show, this experience that changed their lives as well as my own, I can sense a few tears gathering in my eyes. Pulling my lips between my teeth I try to quell my nerves and emotions as I swipe at the wetness on my cheek, and rub my hand down my belly, smoothing the light fabric over my swollen bump.

Gathering myself, I lean back into the microphone, and steady my voice. "I know, I feel like you do. It's kind of a sad thing. The end of this life changing experience that I've been sharing with all of you. It's time though, it is. I have other projects that I want to pursue. And other journeys that I want to share with you. This isn't the end of us."

After allowing a moment of applause, nodding and looking down at his notecards, the host scans them, then raises his head for the next question. "Can you elaborate a little more on those other projects. There is speculation about what that will be."

"Yeah, so the first one, a personal project my husband and I have been working on will be coming very soon. In the next few weeks actually, as I'm due with what will be my last pregnancy shortly." I answer sheepishly, usually keeping my personal life private, but obviously giving in to the questions that I've been fielding all day about my rather large stomach.

Injecting on the tail end, seated to my left, Sasha puts her arms around my shoulders and whispers into her mic. "She's having twins again, y'all! Most fertile woman I know!" The crowd whoops and laughs at her antics, and while it makes me blush and look off to the left of the stage again where Rick and the kids are seated, catching his proud grin, she's not far off.

After Rick and I got back together, and not long after the first season of Zombie Slayer premiered to record setting viewing numbers, our son Richard Joshua Grimes, or RJ as his brothers dubbed him, entered our lives. It was late January, and about four weeks earlier than expected, but his arrival was like the stamp of approval on our renewed family life.

My pregnancy with RJ had been uneventful, with him taking it easy on me, not causing too much nausea or fatigue. In fact, between an invigorated artistic muse that worked tirelessly to make sure the show was a good representation of my source material, to moving back into the farm, being pregnant was the least of my worries. It was the smoothest pregnancy I've had so far.

On the other hand, this last one, wholly unexpected, is the one that has thrown the both of us for a loop.

After RJ was born, Rick and I realized that we couldn't stay at the farm any longer. With the new baby it had become too cramped. And well, when Granddad returned from his trip to Alabama with a new wife of his own, there were simply too many people in the modest four-bedroom farmhouse. Alma's addition to the family was a welcome one, and the kind elderly woman seemed to really take to the madness of the growing household, chocked full of four generations of Grimes folks. Her and Granddad met at bingo, and according to her had been attached at the hip ever since. Granddad said she couldn't resist his charm, and laughed at his jokes, so he had to make her his wife. Alma said he had sexy blue eyes, and she took pity on him not being able to keep up with all of his cards at bingo, so she helped him out and ended up married to him within the week.

They deserve each other, and it's cute that he has found someone to spend his time with now that he's no longer helping out in the woodshop or on the farm. It's good to see love flourish, regardless of age, and even Rick's parents were still going strong.

While all of that was nice, our growing family and lack of privacy was a concern, one that Rick provided the perfect solution for. One that got him back into my parents' good graces. Confessing that he never sold his mother's home in Atlanta, he suggested that we move our family there. Right next door to my parents. It was a win-win actually, as it allowed my parents to be closer to the kids, and we were still not too far from King County. Though we still spent a few months in LA at my beach house, our home base was in Georgia, on the same street where our love story began. This afforded Rick the opportunity to still be involved in the family businesses to some degree, but to freely spread his wings some as well, unencumbered by the needs of his mother's health, or his family businesses. And only 45 minutes away, for me the commute to the set was still manageable. On top of that, the kids loved the tree house that still stood, firm and strong, as a testament to his father's expert craftsmanship. The romantic in Rick said it's more of a testament to the beginning of our love story, and well...I won't disagree.

After that things settled down for all of us, everyone kind of finding their place, getting their lives into a satisfied groove. Jeff and Beth moved into the farmhouse once we moved out, their newlywed antics fitting in perfectly, but also allowing them to be involved in farm and furniture business, with Jeff taking over for Rick, and Beth assisting her father on their farm. Glenn and Maggie got married shortly after, finding a small apartment in the same building I stayed in briefly, on the main street of King County. It fits them perfectly and accommodates their small family that consists of the most perfectly sweet little nugget, my nephew Herschel.

As I turn to my left again, I join in the laughter and teasing from my friend Sasha. My sister. Life gave her a fight there for a moment. Dredging up Bob's battle with alcohol addiction, causing a final decision on her part to divorce him, hopefully giving him the space to either confront his demons once and for all, or to wallow in them. Either way, he was going to have to do it alone. She had fought that fight with him, and regardless of the love she said she would always have for him, she chose her own survival and dare I say it has turned out well for her.

After season three of the show, which had become a bona fide hit, King County had become a bit of a touristy town, drawing in fans who wanted to see where the show was filmed, and tour the sites where familiar scenes had taken place. One of those tours included a tall, burly red head, with a handlebar mustache, and a precarious connection to Sasha's past. Spotting her quickly dashing out of the coffee shop across from one of the main shooting sites, Abe called out to her, and once he caught her attention he threw up the two fingered peace sign they use to casually share when bidding each other goodbye and that was all it took.

If my memory serves me correctly, the newly divorced Sasha instantly gravitated back to her old boyfriend, finding that time in the military had been both beneficial and unkind to him, and falling in love with him all over again had been effortless. Except this time, they weren't two kids playing at love. They'd both been divorced, Abe leaving behind two children with his first wife in Texas. And of course Sasha, fresh off the hurt of divorce, and a few brief industry flings that amounted to her simply trying to get her groove back. But with Abe, she seemed to fall easily into that groove, rediscovering a kindred spirit who had been to hell and back again, and was finally ready to let someone be close again. No longer afraid to go back to it. Or as Abe joked over dinner when they joined us for a barbecue as the kids swam and played in the yard, and he bounced their red headed little baby girl, Amelia, in his arms, 'finding Sasha again made him ready to tear the world a brand-new asshole'. His words, not mine.

I feel him though. The sentiment may be brash and bold in its wording, but the feeling behind it is not lost to me. It's a fire inside, one that can only be sparked by the right person. One that makes you feel so alive. So ready to...well...tear the world a brand-new asshole.

That same burning in my soul allows my eyes to swing further past Sasha, down the row of actors and actresses that are attending this final panel for Zombie Slayer, where I find at the very end and in the front row to the side of the stage, my family. Rick, donning a blue button up shirt that stretches across his wide chest, and dark wash blue jeans that showcase the firmness of his thighs, somehow senses that my eyes are on him and immediately raises his eyes to mine. Running his hand back through his moderately short curls. Curls that are now threaded through with a larger population of silky, silver strands, but remain as unruly as always, and do not allow themselves to be tamed away from his forehead. Those same streaks decorate his beard as well, slowly, year over year, interspersing and overtaking the once dark fibers. I don't mind.

All of it simply contributes to the overall sexiness of this man as he ages, growing finer with every passing year, much like a treasured wine, or a valuable painting. His handsomeness and worth increasing each day. Regardless of the grousing he often falls into about his knees getting a bit dodgy, a phrase he picked up from his new friendship with Anthony. Or as Glenn as dubbed it, their bromance. It's a term that neither finds nearly as comical as Glenn does, but anyone who has seen those two together has to admit that with the uncanny resemblance, and differing country of origin aside, they are strikingly similar. Anthony has even said that after his initial time meeting Rick, he began basing his portrayal of Randy more on Rick than the source material because it was painfully clear to him that Rick was the true source material anyway. I would neither confirm nor deny that.

My gaze rests on him and continues past him to where our children sit, taking up nearly half of the row, as there is some playful bantering and chattering going on around me, various riffs on the number of children that have been born to cast members or producers during the show's ten-year run. My how things have changed.

At fifteen years old, Andre and Carl sit next to each other like a set of bookends, seemingly unfazed by the fact that their mother is on the stage and is the executive producer and creator of the most popular show in the world. It doesn't even seem to register with them, as they boredly chat with each other, marveling more over whatever is going on with their iPhones than what's happening in Hall H. I suppose that is fair. They grew up in this world. They don't know any different, and there hasn't been a time when they didn't spend time on a set. Hell, they experienced their very first Comic Con in my belly. While they have sprouted up to match the height of their father, both even growing in facial hair that is destined to send me to tears whenever I see the evidence of time's speedy travels through our lives, they are still here, just as they have been every year. Supporting me and keeping their eyes on their little sister Judith, and baby brother RJ who at ten years old has decided to continue his tradition of cosplaying Comic Con which he has done since birth. Donning his own Miles Morales Spiderman costume, he has garnered a promise from Rick and I that if he behaved himself during the panel, I would introduce him to some of the cast from Marvel's most recent superhero flick. I suppose its working as he's sitting dutifully, paying as much attention as one can expect from a rambunctious ten year old.

Judith, our only sweet baby girl in a family of rowdy boys, has hit puberty, and discovered the deadly B word. Boys. She may be seated in the crowd physically, but her mind is definitely on the stage where sixteen year old Cameron Biggs, the young actor who has played Randy's son since the show began, sits next to Anthony, smiling brightly her way. I hope Rick doesn't notice. Cameron and Judith have been friends for a long time. That boy has spent more time with our family than his own, so much so that Rick taught him to drive. That aside, I do not think his fondness for Cameron will prevent him from killing him should he ever realize what Rick's mother pointed out to me on a hushed, knowing whisper, one summer as we all reconvened on the farm for a family dinner, that this is exactly how Rick and I began. I hate to admit she's right, especially when I notice her giving him that sardonic smile of hers, the one that Rick says she got from me when I want to flirt with him, but be ornery and play hard to get at the same time.

Rick hasn't noticed yet, and he only has eyes for me, as a grin widens across his face.
As though it's my very first time seeing him, as though I haven't spent my whole life loving this man, I can feel butterflies taking flight in my chest, sending my heart racing.

Every morning that I wake up to his face, every night that I fall asleep in his arms, I am thankful that the universe gave me him. That it allowed us to move past our pain to be together again. To create a path for our happiness to travel.

Winking those sexy blue eyes at me, then sticking his tongue out to lighten the moment, I almost roll my eyes at how giddy and loved this fool makes me feel. How silly he is. Loving. Caring. How much he loves me, and how much that goes beyond just the words. The performative announcement of it in a way that should seal my heart to his in false fealty. No, this man has shown me in every way. In the sacrifices he has made. The choices, though I may not have understood them, that have helped to lead us here. Together.

For a moment I can only stare at him, my heart and mind tied to his in this speck of time. Until the host calls my name again, leading me back into the conversation, prodding me for more info on what comes next.

"Uh yeah, so um I've decided to partner with Marvel on my next project. Mr. Kleinman paved the way for me to get to a place where I can own my work, and the directions I want to take. For that I'm extremely grateful. He has taught me a lot. With that said, I created my own comic production company, and now I can decide which projects I want to align with different creative partners. That freedom led me to collaborate with Marvel Studios on what will be kind of a new generation for that comic universe. I can't say too much, but we're talking a series of movies, tied together, in multiple phases, to give the world a galaxy of different superheroes and villains that heavily focus on non-traditional themes."

"Wow! That's a mouthful! I know you can't say a lot more about what that means, but can you give us just a little hint?"

"Sure, yeah, so I've started outlining the first movie. It's based on a real-life event that heavily affected my life, and will incorporate the beloved character from X-Men, Storm. It's kind of a riff on how a regular person, a young Asian kid and his adopted sister were affected by a thunderstorm that she caused in battle."

"That sounds really amazing! And you've mentioned before that your real life as always inspired your work, right?"

"Yes, yeah absolutely."

"So will you finally admit then that Randy is based on your husband Rick?" Sasha adds, angling her lips towards the microphone to once again add her two cents.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that." I playfully answer, still holding that card close to the vest.

XXXXX

"How you feeling, babe? You tired?"

"Yeah. That feels nice though, thank you." I weakly respond as I sink back into my lounger. Skimming my fingers through the sand, searching for the bottle of water I had next to me, I close my eyes in ecstasy as Rick presses his thumbs into the arch of my foot. A foot that I haven't really seen in months since my stomach has gotten so big, but Rick has assured me that it's still a beautiful foot. Sasha would not confirm that, noting that Rick thinks everything about me is perfect and beautiful, so he can't be objective. She told me all of that as she ended her little statement with a reference to cankles that made me want to kick her, but to her benefit that would have taken more effort than these cankles have in them.

"Only a few weeks left, sweetheart. We're almost there."

"I know. Today just wore me out a bit. Ready to take it easy now."

"Understood." Rick agrees, as he places a few soft kisses to the bottom of my foot, then makes his way up my ankle. His hand tickling its way up my leg, and in between my thighs. Biting at his bottom lip, his lids lower, partially shielding those pretty blues from me as he takes in my body starting from the bottom, and landing on my overly large breasts. Sasha talked me into this maternity red and white polka dot bikini, noting that even if I'm carrying around the biggest stomach she's ever seen, I'm still hella cute, and my body is still tight. I hate her and love her at the same time. Ultimately, I agreed enough to not only buy it, but decided to wear it while we had a little get together on the beach behind our home here. "You look very sexy in this bikini. It looks good on you." He declares as he inches up and hovers his body over mine.

"What's that look about, Mr. Grimes?"

"What look?"

"That look. You trying to get laid on the beach?"

"I'm always trying to get laid by you." He confirms, his lips toying with mine, his tongue easing out to lick along the seam.

"This is true. You know my parents are in the house. If you listen, you can still hear my mother blasting Donny Hathaway and trying her absolute worst to accompany him. It's the beginning of my parents' mating dance. My dad will be joining her by the next song." I grouse, catching her raised voice streaming through the screen on the patio doors. Though my mother loves his music, her off key version of one of her favorite songs is doing ol' Donny no justice.

"Love love love why'd you take so long to come to me aww baby
Love love yo love tell me where you hiding from me
All the time
Each time I try to find someone to take your place
It was all in vain, no their lips were never quite the same aww baby
When I was kissing someone new deep inside I was missing you..."

Rick lifts his gaze behind me for a second, maybe thinking over how close to home those lyrics hit as he frowns for a second, then swinging his head side to side seems to be checking to see if he can locate either of my parents from where we are situated on the beach. "They're not coming back out here. It's too late at night. And no one else is going to see us. This is a private beach."

"You said that when we had sex on the beach in Brazil at that little house we rented. Almost got us arrested."

Licking his tongue out to taste the tops of my breasts and diving it between my cleavage, he grunts out from where his lips are smothered against my flesh, "Eh, it was fun though."

On a long satisfying moan, I give myself permission to relax even more, and melt into my husband. The music adds a romantic soundtrack to the evening, with only the moon's glow to provide the smallest semblance of light. Under the breeze wafting in from the sea, riding in to meet us on the ebb and flow of salty waves, my husband's hand moves to caress my body. Dragging his calloused fingers up and down my arms, the rough pads of the tips awakens my nerves, makes my flesh alive with need for him as I lift his face to mine for a kiss. A tiny sample of the sweetness of his wet kisses. A soft brush of his beard and plush pink lips on my own.

With my fingers tugging at the curly locks of his hair, urgency for him motivates me to pull just a bit harder on his hair. A sting that I know will tease at the turgid arousal I can already feel veiny and thick against my thigh. Seeking to feel more of him, my fingers drive up and down the warm skin across his back, tickle against the hair spread over his chest, pushing my own passion until Rick's lustful exploration causes him to pull down the cups of my bikini top, where he proceeds to bite just a little too hard at my very sensitive nipples. "Ow, Rick!"

Peeking up at me, with long spiky eyelashes, a soft sandy brown dusting at the crest of his cheeks, he smiles widely. It's that same mischievous grin that always ends with me on his cock. The same smile that's given us years together, and ready to deliver our fifth and sixth children very soon. This sexy man and his pretty face have been trouble since the day I punched him in his nose and fell in love with him. "I'm sorry, babe. Don't you want to have some fun?"

I do. And just as I'm about to give in and try to figure out how to maneuver my overly swollen body to figure out the logistics of sex with my husband on two lounge chairs, I am reminded by Donny Hathway and my mother that we aren't exactly alone.

"Love love love you can't imagine what you did to me aww baby
And love love your love everytime you smile it goes
Through me all the time..."

Needing to redirect where this is going, I rub through his beard, and hold his face in my hands, the puppy dog pout growing on his lips almost changing my mind. "Sex on the beach was fun, until we almost got arrested for indecent exposure." I laugh, remembering the look of confusion on the policewoman's face as she shined the light on Rick and I, as he had me bent over, hands pushed up against a tree lining the edge of the beach and the grass. "Could you imagine the scandal that could have been?"

Sighing in defeat, Rick falls back to rest on his knees. "At least you were able to use your connections to keep us out of trouble. That's the benefit of being with a famous Hollywood big-wig."

"No, if you remember it was you flirting with those baby blues that actually got her not to arrest us."

"You sure about that? I thought it was the famous Michonne Grimes and her wildly popular zombie show?" Scratching at his chin, he shakes his head, disputing my account of that night two years ago while he and I were on a solo vacation.

"No. It was you."

"Eh, we remember it differently." Leaning to the side where his lounge chair is pushed up close next to mine, he drapes his arm across my breasts, then rests his head on his other hand. Allowing his eyes to scan my body again, this time resting on my face, his tone is less flirtatious, "Either way, we have come a long way because of you, sweetheart. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything you have done. For everything you're doing. For giving us another chance. For you."

"The thanks belongs to both of us, Rick. We did this. None of this happens without you. Don't ever forget that." I answer, making sure that I remind him of his integral place in our lives. Palming the side of his face, my fingers find themselves brushing through the soft strands of his beard again, as he leans into my touch.

"Nah. I do my little things here and there."

"No. You do your big things, Rick. Do you not have one of the most popular furniture boutiques in Los Angeles? Did one of the biggest stars in Hollywood not commission a full house of furniture from you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing. This is the life that Rick and Michonne built. We did this, baby. Me and you." I point from myself to him, allowing my index finger to linger on the warmth of his chest. "None of this would have been possible if two friends didn't see what was right in front of them. If two silly young adults didn't fall in love. If you didn't make a tough choice for us and give me the freedom to fly. And if we didn't forgive each other. None of this happens without both of us." Seeking his lips, I try to roll closer to him, but my large stomach only lodges itself into his, keeping us inches apart. Giggling at my foiled attempt at closeness, I admit, "We did this too. These boys in my stomach, that awesome band of curly haired kids, with your good looks and my smarts? We did that too."

"Wait a minute. Why do you get the smarts?"

"Is being cute not enough for you? Greedy much?"

"I'm just saying..." Rick gestures, his hand upturned as though he doesn't quite agree with my assessment.

"One of us had to take statistics twice in college and it wasn't me."

"Damn! That's low. I thought you loved me?"

Grasping his hand, I turn the palm to me and place my lips in the center. "Adore you. Can't live without you. Love you more than life." I declare, the firm truth hanging in the air between us, and causing a scarlet blush to highlight his handsome face. I don't know why he always does that when I tell him how much I love him. As though he's bashful or caught off guard by the intensity of something that is simply a fact. "I have always loved you, Rick. Always have. Always will."

"Me too...well that was before you called me pretty but dumb."

"I did not."

"What is it Anthony says? I'm punching above my weight with you?" Quirking his eyebrow at me, he momentarily diverts his eyes away from me, rubbing at the freckles dotting along the bridge of his nose. He may have chuckled a little when he says it, but there is no true joy in those words.

He's right though, Anthony always reminds Rick that he thinks I'm too good for him. They're good friends now, so we all know it's a running joke between them, but when Anthony also put Rick on notice that should he ever not be in the picture he would gladly step into the role of Rick Grimes, I think Rick took it a little harsher than the witty Brit meant it to come off as. I suppose given our history I can't blame him. It hits very close to home.

There's no longer a Lori or an Ezekiel wedged between us, but there will always be the memory of that point in time. What that derivation from our shared path meant to who were. Who we have become.

Even though we had decided to be together after the whole Zeke thing, and I choregraphed this whole very dramatic moment of me burning the divorce papers in the fireplace, I could still sometimes sense an uneasiness that would color Rick's mood whenever I had to travel without him for prolonged periods of time. His words never betrayed him. His smile always remained. It was just something that would reveal itself to me in his behavior. How he wouldn't call me while I was gone until after I had called him first. When I asked him about it, he puttered around my question, at first not giving me a direct answer, then finally admitting that he didn't want to smother me.

Incredulous at his response, I instantly let him know how ridiculous of a premise that was. But honestly? I understood. I got it. We had done so much emotional damage to each other; how could he not be worried that I might yearn for a life devoid of the ups and downs we had experienced. How could I not feel self-conscious every time some pretty woman made eyes at him, even with me standing there? With my rounded nose, and wide hips. My kinky locs and melanin rich skin. Or that his mother or father, or aged grandfather might need him? Skittish and fragile as newborn birds, it would take a lifetime of dedication and love to remove the scourge of time from our memories. But is that what we needed?

Memories are a funny thing. They can make you or break you. Break you by recalling in vivid detail the feeling of heartbreak. The gripping pain in your chest, so vicious that it would make you wish for an actual heart attack. Just to alleviate the anguish of what losing the one you love has done. It can make you relive the beauty of that love. Of a visceral connection to that one person who makes you whole. Who fills that decaying hole in your heart that loss would sacrifice you to. The hurt in those remembrances of life's moments gift us with thankfulness too. Thankfulness that we made it through. That none of that pain and sacrifice wasn't bartered away for something more glorious than anything we've ever had before.

For us, it's the memories of that time that often causes me to feel self-conscious but also gives Rick the opportunity to reinvigorate that smoldering fire I carry for him. Memories give me permission to tell my husband, my best friend, the only man I have ever truly loved, that without him my life simply does not work.

We are fortunate, our memories don't break us. They bind us. They seal our hearts and souls together in a love that some don't understand. That some would deem foolish or crazy. As Sasha reminded me so many years ago, it is not an ordinary love.

How could it be? There is nothing plain, or simple. Typical, about what we have. What we have been through, since the day that pretty country boy moved next door is a love story so extraordinary that every time I look at him, at the faces of the children we have had together, all I see is love. A devotion to the story that is Rick and Michonne.

Using those memories to pull my husband back in I dig into my brain's memorabilia of us, and pull out one of my favorites. "Hey, Rick, do you remember that night? The tree house? Your bedroom?"

Glancing up towards the sky, the vast expanse of darkness speckled through with luminous bits of heaven, cascading farther and wider than even our years of memories can reach, Rick lets out a deep sigh, his chest rising and falling. Grabbing my hand, placing it over his heart, he turns his face back to mine. "Of course. That's the night I stole you away from the idiot Mike." He answers, pronouncing Mike with a bite of disgust. "I hated that guy."

"I remember that. I also remember how excited I was that night. Nervous seeing you fully nude for the first time. Frightened to death when I saw what you were working with. God that shit hurt!"

"Does it still hurt?" he asks, giving me that look again. That familiar look that lets me know exactly where this is going.

"Sometimes a little. But In a good way. How you think I ended up pregnant. Again!"

"I like you pregnant."

"I know. But I'm ready for these two to exit."

"Come here. Let me help you with that." Standing, Rick reaches down to assist me in rising from my own lounge chair. Pulling me into his arms, he holds me as close as my stomach will allow, and rests his face in the crook of my neck. With my ass in his palms, we're swaying, a tiny back and forth of our bodies, the tiniest inch of space between us. A low growl rumbles in his chest, followed by what I can barely make out as the sound of his husky voice against my throat. "You always smell good enough to eat, sweetheart. So fucking sweet. My Michonne." Skimming his lips up to mine, slowly abandoning their licking and tasting of my neck and cheek, Rick frames my face between his palms.

Salty and thick, the breeze delivers the next song on my mother's playlist to where we stand on the beach, feet sinking in the sand, introducing the solemn vocals of Donny's song, 'I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know'.

"If I ever leave you, baby
You can say I told you so
And if I ever hurt you
You know, I hurt myself as well..."

Tilting his head, a gesture that seems to be acknowledging how the lyrics have not only affected me, but Rick as well, he simply whispers over my lips. "Yeah. What he said." Then proceeds to kiss me with everything in him. His fingers tilting my head back to meet the passion in his kiss. A kiss that is brimming with so much more than simple lust. This is a kiss dense with memory, and forgiveness, sadness and joy. Desire and need so thick it muffles my cries of pleasure. And this song, and the tortured crooner calling out to the woman he loves? It hits us so hard. Speaks to us so plainly because well...this is the story of us.

"Is that any way for a man to carry on
Do you think I want my loved one gone
Said I love you
More than you'll ever know
More than you'll ever know..."

And just as I'm ready to grab his hand to pull him back down to the lounge chairs to make love to my husband, I sense a trickle of wetness that is so much more than the thick dampness of arousal.

Withdrawing from him, my eyebrows furrow as Rick's angle in concern at the tiny squeal that peels from my lips. "Chonne, babe, what's-"

"Rick...my water just broke!"