“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 13
Well hi *I wave sheepishly from behind the computer screen*
Let me start by saying I am so so sorry that the conclusion of this story took so long - I have barely been writing for a really long time.
But this story and doing it justice has always been in the back of my mind, and I finally got myself to finish it for all of you who have been so loyal and patient.
Here is the final Chapter of You Used To Love Me.
All my love, I hope you enjoy x
Besides the obvious shock at seeing him at such a fucking inopportune time, his presence sends an immediate chill down my spine.
I have to physically close my eyes to try and rid my mind of the thoughts and flashbacks to the other night, when he kissed me. When we kissed each other.
The room collectively falls silent. No one tries to stutter over their words. No one tries to save the moment with some excuse. Just pure silence. All of us processing what has just unfolded. That is until Gina finally speaks.
“Well, I guess the gig is up” she says, almost laughing.
I don’t even look at her. My eyes are just glued to Michael. I watch his face contort into 100 different shades of confusion.
When no one else speaks, when nothing is elaborated, he looks back and forth between all of us, searching desperately for an answer.
“Izzy?” He says my name, his tone just begging me for an answer.
“This isn’t on her…” Gina begins, standing up slowly from the floor and straightening her dress “I’m pregnant, Michael”
And just like that, the bomb is dropped. But that’s not even the worst of it. My heart aches inside my chest, knowing that it’s about to get so much worse for Michael.
I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow the air in the room grows heavier.
My whole body tenses at I wait to see Michael’s reaction.
He doesn’t know it’s not his yet.
He runs his eyes over her, covering his mouth in shock when he finally notices the small baby bump just beginning to show through her dress.
“Oh my god” he runs a hand through his hair, his hands trembling.
He doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head in disbelief. No excitement. No joy at the thought of having his own child. And that says it all. He isn’t happy. This is not the life he wanted for himself.
Part of me want’s to tell him about Gina’s infidelity. To tell him that he is not having a child. That he is not going to be stuck raising a child with a woman he doesn’t love. But before I can even find the words, his head stops shaking and his brows furrow. Like a lightbulb switched on in his mind. Like something clicked. It’s like I can see him mind doing back flips as he realises that something doesn’t add up.
He looks back up at Gina, who is chewing at her bottom lip nervously. She is also waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Like she said, Michael is smart. It won’t be long before it dawns on him, and I know she does not want that moment to unfold before all of us, here in this room.
“I would like a moment alone with my husband” Gina says quickly, as she looks over at Polly and I. She knows Michael is starting to catch on to what he knows deep down inside. This is not his baby.
I take her queue to leave immediately, reaching for Polly’s hand. “Come on Pol, let’s go make some tea yeah?” I say, locking eyes with her and nodding towards the doorway.
Polly’s catches on, and she takes my hand as we both make our way out of the room. As we exit I quickly glance back over my shoulder to find Michael looking at me gravely, before Gina closes the door behind us.
Polly and I walk downstairs and into the kitchen in complete silence. I start making tea, but Polly touches my arm.
“This is not a time for tea… I’ll get the whisky”
I nod. I’m like a soldier with shell shock. I can barely speak. I can barely move as I lower my body stiffly into a chair at the dining table.
I’m straining with all my might to hear the conversation going on upstairs between Gina and Michael, but it’s eerily quiet.
I know what she is telling him now is being said in hushed voices.
Polly slides a hefty glass of Whiskey in my direction, and tasting the bitter drink is the only thing that brings me out of my frozen trance.
“Michael’s not going to be a father” she says out of the blue, with her face all knowing, as though she has read the room and understands the situation.
“No” I affirm her suspicions, although she already knows without me needing to “No he’s not”
“One day” Polly responds, holding eye contact with me.
I’ve always known Polly has senses. Everyone in the Shelby family knows. Hell, everyone in fucking town knows. She see’s things. Feels them. She know’s Michael will one day be a father. I’m not psychic and even I knew that. He has a way with children. He’s wonderful with them. And in this moment, I know exactly who she thinks he will be having children with. I know what she’s insinuating.
I almost jump straight out of my seat when I few minutes later, I hear footsteps coming down the staircase.
I quickly sink the rest of my whiskey, as Gina and Michael enter the dining room.
“I’m taking Gina to the hospital, I’ll be back later. Tell Tommy we have to reschedule our meeting to another day”
Michael is holding his cap in his hands, gripping it so tight that his knuckles have gone white. But they’re not as white as his face. I can’t tell if he looks like he’s seen a ghost, or if he is the ghost.
Gina looks down at the floor, then up at the ceiling. Basically anywhere but at our faces.
Polly nods, knowing that now is not the time to have words with either of them. I’m actually impressed with how civil she is being towards Gina in this moment. In light of the severity of the situation.
Michael ushers Gina out the front door, and moments later the cars wheels turn on the gravel and make their way out of the street.
Polly and I sit in silence, drinking for a little bit longer, until everything catches up with me. The whiskey, the sleeplessness, the bomb that was just dropped.
Without saying much, Polly and I hug goodbye. She holds on a little longer than usual, and before we depart she gives me a knowing smile.
I know what she’s thinking. I know she can tell something happened between Michael and I.
But I can’t let my brain run off with the possibilities. I don’t know what is going to happen between us.
Even with Gina now possibly out of the picture, there’s a lot that has gone on between Michael and I. I still carry the pain, nursing it in my arms every day since he left for America, and came back with another woman. I don’t know what he could ever say to fix that.
And then there’s the possibility that he stays with her, despite the news. Which might just send me over the edge. Truly into a place of no return.
I wander the streets in the short walk back to my apartment, where I pour myself another drink when I arrive.
I don’t know why, but I sit by the window. Waiting, I guess. Hoping that he might show up. Maybe even part of me is hoping that he doesn’t. But still, I can’t pull myself away.
I have so many errands, so many jobs to do. But I can’t move on. I spend the rest of the day worrying about him. Picturing him at the hospital, sitting by Gina’s bedside. Supporting her on what might be the worst day of this life thus far. I picture his face when he found out she was pregnant. The horror and fear that he was trying to disguise.
He didn’t have the glow of someone who just found out their wife is having a baby.
By the time night falls, and dusk gives way, I have bitten my nails down to the quick without even noticing.
Feeling horrid and heavy with anxiety, I decide to drag my sleep deprived body into the shower. It’s a peaceful moment, and I start to feel like I could finally settle into bed when someone knocks at my door as I’m getting changed into my night gown.
I catch myself in the mirror for a moment, willing myself to be strong, because I already know who it is standing at my door without even having to open it.
As I make my way to my visitor, I run over 100 speeches that I have planned in my head. But once I grab that handle and pull it open, the chatter in my head falls silent.
Michael Grey.
He stands in the door way, a look of relief washing over his face as though he didn’t think I would actually answer him.
Of course I would.
He opens his mouth to speak, inhaling deeply, but the words never follow. With this much history between two people, it’s impossible to know where to begin.
He looks like he’s been to hell and back.
“Sorry” he stammers, snapping himself out of his trance “Your door was unlocked, but I didn’t want to just walk in-”
“It’s always been unlocked” I breathe, knowing that I’ve kept a lot of parts of me unlocked, incase there was a moment where Michael Grey decided to wander back in. Just like he has right now.
He nods, understanding what I meant immediately.
“Can I come in?” He begins “I can go if you want, I just…”
He looks so small in this moment. He’s the most timid and sheepish I have ever seen him.
“Of course” I nod, stepping aside to let him in.
We move about my apartment in silence, as we both take a seat at my dining table. When he does, he places his elbows on the table and rests his head in his hands.
Without even needing to ask, I pour us both a drink.
“I figured if I need one of these you probably do too”
I looks up at me gratefully as I place the glass in front of him and he takes a swig.
“How is she?” I ask, nervous to actually address the situation at hand. But I know there’s no way around it. We’re not going to talk about the fucking weather.
“They’re uh, they’re going to keep her overnight until she’s got her hydration back”
There’s silence for a moment before he continues, and he looks as if he’s not able to believe what he’s about to say.
“Then she’s going home”
My heart jumps and skips over a few beats, making me feel unsteady as I realise what he just said.
Gina is leaving.
“We’re done” he says, and I suddenly take note of the fact that he’s not wearing his wedding ring.
“Michael I’m sorry-” I begin, but falter when it comes to finishing my sentence.
I am sorry. But the truth is that I’m fucking relieved. Relieved for Michael. Relieved for myself. Relieved that I don’t have to watch him raise a child with someone else right in front of my eyes when it was supposed to be me.
“It’s okay” he nods “Her and I we weren’t… I didn’t love her Izzy”
I knew this whole time. I want to scream it from the rooftops. I want to scream it at him. I want to ask what possessed him to act that way for so long.
I want to ask him who he loves. I want to ask him if it’s still me.
“It still hurts though” I say instead, trying to keep my wits about me. And that is the truth. He is still in pain.
“Yeah well I had that coming didn’t I” he almost laughs to himself, shaking his head.
He looks up at me, bearing himself. He knows what he did was wrong. And he knows as far as karma goes, he was now getting his.
“I’ve done so many things wrong… Everything got so out of control Iz” I notice his knee is bouncing rapidly beneath the table.
I hold my breath, so much so that I begin to feel light headed and my chest begins to burn.
“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to” he says once he notices my speechlessness, “I just owe you an explanation. I owe you that much”
I nod, giving him the go ahead. The green light of redemption.
We’re on the edge of the moment. The moment I’ve been waiting for for months.
“You know I don’t even know why you let me in, you’re always so kind, so good. Too fucking good. After everything”
His chest rises and falls beneath his shirt and vest, growing faster with every second as he gets himself more and more worked up over the train wreck of his life.
“You know I can’t get the look on your face out of my head, from the day that you saw me and Gina. The day I came back and told you to leave me alone. It fucking haunts me Izzy. Because I didn’t want it. But when you’re in too deep…” He shakes his head, as his words just keep pouring out frantically “I thought it was the only way… the only way to deal with what I had done. I couldn’t even look at Gina. I couldn’t even touch her. So I thought if I forgot about you, that I could move on”
“Did you?” Are the only words I can utter, as the lump in my throat swells, almost cutting off my voice completely.
“Never. Fucking never”
I had built this moment up in my head for so long.
What I would say to him.
How I would teach him a lesson.
How I would show him what he had done to me.
That he can’t get away with doing that to a person.
I had rehearsed how I would make him get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness.
Make him explain himself until he was blue in the face.
Until I was satisfied.
I wait for that feeling to come, the rage, but it never does.
Instead, I stay silent as he takes a deep breath to steady himself. His eyes are welling up, threatening to spill over as he continues to explain.
“I lost my way over there. I was losing my fucking mind without you. I got drunk, Gina was forceful. One thing led to another and I woke up next to her one morning. Then I couldn’t get rid of her. I was doing business with her family, and it’s like she saw something she wanted and would stop at nothing to get it. That’s when I stopped contact with you… I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you. To face what I had done”
The first tear falls onto his freckled cheeks, but he wipes it quickly.
“I was going to cut her off before I came back home, but she threatened that she would cut off the deal between Shelby Limited and her Uncles if I left her. She threatened fucking horrible things to the people I loved Izzy, you have no idea” His voice is panicked as he recalls every last detail, and I can see the flashbacks taking their toll on him.
“Her family and her people, they’re something we’ve never dealt with before…She begged me to let her come with me. I was in way over my fucking head. And so I had to pretend. I didn’t want her to sink her claws into you too. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I didn’t want you involved. So I had to pretend like I fucking hated you when all I wanted was to come crawling home to you”
By now, one tear had led to another, and he was no longer wiping them away. His eyes red, his cheeks drowning.
Unable to keep swallowing the lump in my own throat, I abandon all control over my own emotions, and my own eyes spill over with tears.
“You could have told me” my voice scrapes out of my throat “You could have told me what was happening”
He shakes his head “I wanted to protect you, and I had to break you in order to do that. And I’m so fucking sorry”
The feeling comes again, where I’m certain I should be screaming at him right now. Cursing him for everything he put me through.
But I can’t. After all this time, after everything. I just can’t.
I still love him.
My small, shaking hand glides across the top of the dining table, and lays gently over the top of his.
Of course it did. We’re like magnets, him and I. We’ve never been able to keep away from each other.
My touch has an immediate effect on him, as his breathing begins to calm.
But in an unexpected turn, he holds my hand and brings it up to his lips. His eyes close as he places a kiss on the back of my hand, and then another one on the soft, sensitive skin of my inner wrist.
This is something we used to do all the time, and right now, it’s like he doesn’t realise what he’s doing. Muscle memory takes over.
“You’re fucking stupid Michael Grey” I sniffle “I should hate you. I should fucking hate you”
“Do you?” He asks, still holding onto my hand like it’s his only lifeline.
I stare back at him for a moment, before I feel my head start to shake in response.
“Never”
I feel a pull on my arm, as I realise he’s pulling my closer to him.
And I don’t resist.
Our bodies creep closer, slowly then all at once as we collide. His arms wrap around me fiercely, engulfing me. My arms wrap around his torso, and I make no mistakes about holding him tight.
It’s almost crushing, suffocating, the way we are clinging onto one another.
I can’t breathe, or cry, or laugh. I can’t move. And I don’t want to.
His hand holds the back of my head, and I bury it into the crook of his neck.
“I’m so sorry” he apologises, his voice muffled as his face presses into my skin “I’m so fucking sorry”
I could have stayed like that forever, but he pulls back holding my face in his hands as he looks down at me.
“I love you” he begins, his breath tickling my face “I don’t know if that’s okay with you, but I still love you. Izzy. I never stopped”
I look up at him, our breaths slowing and steadying, until we’re breathing in synchronicity.
“I still love you the same as the day I met you” I shake my head, but I can feel the smallest of smiles begin to creep onto my lips “I love you Michael”
“Yeah?” He asks one more time, as if he doesn’t believe it yet.
“Yes, you fucking idiot” I exhale a laugh, unable to stop the smile now “I love you”
He beams back down at me, his head lowering until his lips meet mine.
He’s slow, this time. Unsure. Gentle. As if this moment might fall away and escape him if he makes one wrong move.
But I can’t hold back any longer.
I kiss him back, pressing my body even harder against his, which I hadn’t thought was possible.
I expect a ravenous kiss to follow, for clothes to start falling off our bodies and to gravitate our way towards my bedroom.
But after he returns a tender kiss, he pulls away.
“Wait” he breathes
“You okay?” I pant, biting down on my lip.
“Can we wait…” he whispers nervously “I don’t want you to think this is all I want. I just want to talk to you. Stay up all night talking like we used to. God I missed you so much”
My chest warms up, as I realise he really means it. That he doesn’t want me to get the wrong impression. That he missed my body, but more than that, he missed me.
“Of course” I coo “I would like that”
He presses his lips to mine one last time, then plants a few soft kisses across my nose and cheeks. Just like he used to.
We lead each other to the bedroom, and flop down next to each other, taking in the days events. And how the hell we ended up here.
It doesn’t take long for the conversation to start, as we turn to face each other.
He caresses my face the whole time, stroking my cheek with his thumb gently.
It’s all so familiar, and right now in our little bubble, it’s like no time has passed between us at all. Like no hearts were ever broken.
We talk for hours, neither of us ever feeling tired for a moment. We laugh, getting carried away and wrapped up in each others. Sometimes we cry. He apologises more times than I can keep count. We hold each other. Sometimes I want to ask him to pinch me, to make sure I’m not still concussed from earlier in the week and imagining all of this. That I’m not going to wake up and realise it wasn’t real. That he won’t be taken away from me again.
We talk about how things used to be.
We talk about the future.
Eventually at some point in the early hours of the morning, once our voices are tired and we can’t keep our eyes open any longer, we fall asleep.
When I wake, I’m alone, but next to me I can see the indent of where Michael had been next to me the night before.
My heart starts to race as I become more aware.
He’s left. He’s gone again.
I’m almost carried away into a full panic attack, when something snaps me out of it. The sound of the radio coming from somewhere in the house.
Wondering if someone is here, or if I just left it on, I wrap myself in a robe and make my way into the heart of my apartment.
And there he is.
Fixing up breakfast, still in his clothes from the night before. Humming along to the radio.
He doesn’t even realise I’m there for a few moments, and I’m glad I have some time to process this all to myself.
I had thought I’d never see this scene again. Maybe in my memories, but never in real life.
Michael, in my kitchen, making us breakfast on a cold morning.
My chest floods with warmth.
I didn’t realise how I felt like I had been holding my breath up until this moment, and how now I can finally exhale.
“Morning” he greets me when I he catches me standing there out of the corner of his eye “Sorry, I just thought I’d make you some breakfast, or at least coffee”
“Thank you” I smile, as I force myself to hurry up and adjust to the moment.
“You still like your eggs the same?”
“Absolutely” I smile, endeared by him asking.
He holds out a hand, and I take it, as he reels me in towards his body.
“If this is too much just tell me” he says softly, checking in with where I’m at right now “Is this okay?”
I can tell he’s still unsure. Unsure of whether I’m going to tell him to leave. To get out. That the mistakes are unforgivable and that we can never get it back.
But the truth, that I can feel in my core, is that what we had never really left.
I run a hand through his hair, and he closes his eyes briefly, taking in the sensation.
“I think so” I nod, and he perks up, his eyes look hopeful and bright again “I thought you had left” I admit, revealing why I looked so startled just now.
“No chance” he shakes his head “I’m here. I’m yours”
And I believe him.
It’s a pivotal moment.
Standing on the edge and letting yourself jump.
I know it will take time. And I know he will work every day to prove it to me.
But I choose to trust him.
In whatever way that means right now.
I am his.
I always have been. And I always will.
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