Michael and Me

My One and Only

"SHE DID WHAT??" Michael screams on the other end of the phone.

I'm sobbing. "She—your mother told me I wasn't good enough—for you. She—she—said—that—I wouldn't be a—good wife and—and—and I'm conceited and materialistic..."

I breathe in heavily. I'm shaking uncontrollably, not even trying to stem my gushing tears.

"Nicole, I'm coming home and talking to you. God, I should've known—"

"Why did she do this to me? I thought you told me Katherine's a good person."

"It's not her, it's Rebbie. I'm coming home, baby, right now. You stay put and wait for me, you hear? Don't go to my house or answer the phone if they try to call you. Only talk to Jermaine, he's the only one I trust at this point."

I hang up the phone and throw my wet tissue in the trash. My eyes are poufy and swollen.

Michael arrives at LAX the next day, Tuesday, and drives straight to my house. I bound down the staircase and greet him at my front door. I lead Mike up to my room and we sit on the bed.

"Where are your stuff?" I ask, closing the door.

"I sent it home. How are you?" He takes off his sunglasses.

"I'm good." I hug him, breathing in that fresh cologne.

"I'm sorry," Mike whispers.

I don't respond. I've managed to push all my bad thoughts out for the last 24 hours.

"I'm just glad you're home. I missed you. Alessandra's hosting a party tonight and thought you might wanna come." I brush my hair aside and smile.

"Stop playing with me. I know you're upset." 

"Michael, I don't wanna talk about it!' 

"Shut up, Nicole. Don't sit here and try to fool me." He seizes my hand. I look him in the face.

"What the hell did you say about me?" I hiss. Mike frowns.

"What bad thing would I have to say about you?" He shakes his head.

"Your sisters are out to get me," I interrupt.

"You mean sister. As in just Rebbie, yes, I'll admit that."

"What about LaToya? I saw her peeping out the window yesterday. I think she's said something as well."

I look down at my hands, ashamed. Michael's staring at me, making me feel bad for badmouthing his sisters.

"Look, I don't want to jump to conclusions yet," he says softly. He still has stubble on his chin.

I scratch it. Michael suddenly gives me a deep kiss.

"I'm really sorry," he apologizes again. I shake my head and resume the kiss.

"Aren't you hungry? I'll make you something." I get up and take Michael down to the kitchen. The whole house is empty except for the two of us. Alessandra's at her house preparing and everyone else is at Vegas. I had to stay because I wanted to spend more time with Michael when he returned.

I slam the microwave door on the pizza and set two glasses of wine out.

"Cheers," Michael toasts. I clink my glass with his and sip, aware of Mike's never-ending stare.

I trace the outline of his nose. When my finger gets to his lip, he bites it.

"Ouch!" I laugh.

I take the pizza out. Michael tells me about his grandmother and how good she's doing after her stroke. I nod and ask lots of questions of his life before fame and about his extended family.

The phone interrupts our conversation. I answer to Alessandra snapping at me.

"I need more champagne and more hors d'oeuvres!" she huffs.

I giggle. "Michael is here. I'm taking him with me."

"Oh, really? How's lover boy?"

"He's good." I roll my eyes. "We're just eating pizza."

"Don't eat too much, I have enough food here to last a lifetime. Should I invite his sisters, since you guys are whatever—"

"No, no," I hiss. "Just stick to the plan you had before."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'll talk to you later, bye!" I hang up quickly before any more questions could be asked.

"I've got to get ready," I tell Michael, taking the dishes to the sink. We make the plan for him to go home and change, then come back and pick me up for the party. I kiss him on his way out then run upstairs to get ready.