Ahhh!!

Only five chapters to go! But don't you worry, I have a bunch of epilogues/bonus chapters planned.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter! It's juicy haha.

Comment your thoughts ❤️

Love,
~ShoamEmily

~

16th of July, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Angela: Joseph's hard eyes never left Michael.

Only when I pushed myself up from the couch, to stand in between them, was when my father-in-law looked at me.

I didn't know what this encounter would be like.

After Michael asked Joseph not to come to our wedding, or shut him out completely when he was going through rehab with Jake, and figuring out a lot of his mental health issues were because of his father.

I took a step closer to my husband, almost protecting him.

"Angela," Joseph finally spoke. "You've grown."

I didn't say anything.

"Katie's told me about your program, Michael," he then walked over, casually taking a seat on an armchair, although unwelcome. "She said you've been working on yourself. Did you kick that painkiller habit, too?"

I felt Michael tense beside me, his hand gripping mine for an instant, and his jaw clenched hard.

"I'm working through it," he replied, his tone cold. "But that's not something I want to discuss with you."

Joseph raised an eyebrow, an unsettling smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, so there are things you won't talk about. And here I thought you'd outgrown keeping secrets from your family."

I squeezed Michael's hand again, hoping to calm him.

"We've both worked hard to get here, Joseph," I said, not hiding the disrespect in my voice. "This isn't easy for him. But it's not really about you, is it?"

Joseph chuckled, low and humorless.

"You think I don't know that? I came to see my son, Angela. Maybe understand this man he's become, with all his work on 'himself'," he hissed, full of sarcasm. "But the past doesn't just disappear because you decide it's inconvenient, Michael."

"The past is where you belong, Joseph. I've spent years trying to live up to your expectations, and the last few months untangling what it did to me. And now, I've got a family of my own to think about. I won't let that cycle repeat." Michael spat.

Joseph's expression darkened, and I could see his knuckles whitening against the arms of the chair.

"That 'cycle' is the only reason you're standing here with anything to your name."

Michael pushed past me gently, still holding his father's gaze.

"That cycle almost ruined me. But I'm done with that now. So if you're here to bring up old wounds, you've wasted a trip."

"Maybe... Maybe you're right to be angry. But when those babies are born, Michael, you'll understand some things I couldn't explain back then."

"I already understand. Enough to know I'll never be a father like you. If that's what you can even call yourself."

I could see Joseph's eyes narrow, clearly hurt at my husband's words but not wanting to show it.

He then glanced at my bump, where his future grandchildren grew, and I couldn't read his expression at all.

Suddenly, a familiar cramping sensation started building up in my abdomen.

Oh, no... Come on, babies, you always have the worst timing...

Michael didn't notice my worried face since he stood in front of me, never breaking eye contact with his father.

But Joseph definitely saw it. The discomfort all over my body, and the energy I was wasting trying to play it off.

I fought to keep my face neutral, but the pain was growing stronger, pressing against my stomach and back.

It was worse than the ones this morning, more intense.

"Angela, you look pale." Joseph remarked, almost nervous.

I let out an accidental moan, and Michael's head snapped in my direction.

"Angie..." he sighed and helped me sit back down on the edge of the couch. "Breathe, just like you learned."

I took a shallow breath, trying to push through it.

"Just... Another one of those annoying practice contractions." I mumbled, attempting a reassuring smile.

But the cramping refused to ease up as quickly as I hoped.

It clawed at my hips now, making another moan come from deep in my throat.

Michael's brows furrowed, clearly worried.

"We did promise Dr. Grey you'd take it easy." he reminded me softly, and brought my hands to rest on his shoulders, just like at our birthing lesson earlier.

His hands gripped my waist, swaying me gently, exactly as he learned.

Joseph observed quietly, his demeanor still hard to read.

Though I could swear I saw a flicker of something.

Concern, maybe? But then his cold expression quickly returned.

"Maybe this isn't the best time, then." he muttered, almost to himself.

He stood, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than I expected, before shifting to Michael. "When you're ready to really talk, you know where to find me."

He moved towards the door. Before he left, he paused, voice gentler than usual.

"Take care of her, Michael."

Joseph disappeared into the foyer, leaving me and Michael alone, the front door closing behind him.

Another wave washed over me, making me hold Michael's shoulders tighter. "Oh, God..."

He moved his hands to press on my lower back, and some pressure relieved.

"Hey, breathe, baby..." he guided me. "You're doing so well. It's almost over."

I followed his breathing, thankful he was here. Finally, the pain eased a little.

"Was that one stronger?" he asked.

"I think so..." I sighed shakily. "Always bad timing, huh?"

"I actually think it was great timing. Way to save daddy's behind, babies."

Michael brought his lips to place a long kiss on my bump, where the babies resumed their movements now that the contraction was over.

"It's probably just the stress," I said and leaned back on the couch. "Jeez, Joseph really knows how to push all the wrong buttons."

"You have no idea..."

Edith walked in, realizing what was happening. "I'll get you some water, Mrs. Jackson."

"How does a bath sound, Angie?" Michael brushed some hairs away from my sweaty forehead. "I'll put in those salts you love."

"Actually, that's tempting..."

"Great. You just sit back and let me pamper you like I promised. This house is officially a stress-free zone."

With that, he stood, heading towards the bedroom.

I groaned to myself, my hands pressing where my babies kicked.

"Our lives just got so much more interesting, babies."

~

2nd of August, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Angela: With my hands on my lower back, I examined the basket filled with new and washed baby clothes on the floor.

The nursery shone in the hot noon sun, not helping my current, overly-heated state.

"Okay, just do it." I encouraged myself.

I crouched down, gripping the basket from its handles, and attempted to get back up.

But the weight of both the clothes and my babies pulled me down, not allowing me to stand.

I huffed, stubborn, and tried again.

Just then, Rosa stepped back into the nursery, holding the two lemonade glasses she said she'd get us.

"Woah, woah, woah!" she gasped. "I told you to wait for me! What the hell, Ange, you know you shouldn't be lifting heavy things!"

I let go of the handles, putting my hands out for her to help me. "I just wanted to get this done."

She rolled her eyes and placed the glasses on the coffee table before pulling me up.

A sharp pain shot up my lower back, reminding me of the weight I actually carried.

I gained almost 40 pounds during this pregnancy, and that's without the food I was eating. Purely my babies being so big.

My sister sat me down on the couch, put my feet up, then handed me the chilled glass.

Even with the AC on, I felt like the heat never stopped.

It made me want to get this pregnancy so over with, and everyone around me was feeling it, too.

Rosa plopped down beside me, fanning herself dramatically as she took a long sip from her glass.

"It's like I'm sweating just being around you," she teased, nudging my foot. "Are you sure there aren't three babies in there?"

I glared at her over my lemonade. "At this point, I'd believe it. These two are doing their best to break me."

Rosa laughed, but her eyes softened as she looked at my belly.

"Hey, in a few weeks, maybe less, you're gonna get to hold them, and then you can say goodbye to all this heat, discomfort, and... the mood swings. I really don't know how Michael puts up with you." she smirked.

I groaned, resting my head back on the cushion.

"If I don't melt first. I swear, these days I can barely get up without feeling like I've run a marathon. It's just... Exhausting."

"Then stop trying to move heavy laundry baskets, genius," she snickered, patting my leg. "Let me do the heavy lifting. And if Michael knew, he'd probably rope off the entire nursery until you promised to sit down and relax."

I snorted. "Please, he already treats me like I'm made of glass. Poor guy practically holds his breath every time I stand up. But I can't sit still all day, Rosa. I want to be ready."

My sister placed a gentle hand on my arm.

"You are ready, Ange. You've got the nursery, the clothes, every little thing in its place. I know you want to make sure everything's perfect, but you've done enough. Let us spoil you now. Soon, you'll be running on no sleep, juggling two babies instead of two lemonade glasses."

A sudden kick from one of the twins pressed against my ribs, and I winced. "Ow! Okay, okay, I get it. Everyone wants me to relax."

Rosa laughed, giving my belly a soft pat. "See? Even they're telling you to chill out. Now, lay back and drink that lemonade. I'll put these clothes away, and you can supervise."

I let out a tired sigh, letting myself sink deeper into the cushions. "Fine. But only if you promise not to color-code everything. I'll never hear the end of it from Michael if you do."

Rosa saluted me, heading over to the box with a playful eye roll.

"Relax, boss. I got it covered."

The babies kicked again, this time on the other side of my ribs, their feet digging into my lungs.

I heard the main landline ring, then Edith showed up a few moments later.

"The party planner for Mr. Jackson's birthday is on the line..." she smiled sympathetically, seeing my scrunched face.

I rubbed the spot, hoping to move the babies' feet. "Can you tell her to call tomorrow? I can't do this today."

"Of course. Do you need anything, Mrs. Jackson? More lemonade, maybe?"

"Is Michael done with his meeting?" I asked.

"They were still talking when I passed by the study a couple minutes ago..." she answered.

I exhaled loudly, frustrated, but knew Michael was wrapping up his rehab today. At least, until after the babies come.

Jake said he'd still be around, would come once a week to check on him. But other than that, he was finished, and I couldn't be prouder.

"Well, if he's done, tell him to come up. Oh, and can you please get me a jug of this, please?" I held up my almost empty glass.

Rosa eyed me as I still rubbed the spot where my babies moved, even more than before.

"Are they not calming down?" she bit her lip.

"No." I scoffed, feeling another mood swing bubble up.

She folded another onesie, neatly putting it in my baby girl's changing table. "Here, put your feet up higher."

Taking a pillow, she propped my throbbing feet up, but it didn't do much except relieve some of the pressure on them.

My babies kicked and kicked, not showing any signs of stopping.

"Ugh!" I groaned. "I'm gonna walk around..."

"Ange, you need to stay off your feet..."

"Whatever. Maybe if I do this they'll come and put me out of my misery."

I shifted uncomfortably so I could stand, when I heard footsteps come up the stairs.

Michael appeared at the top, holding a large pitcher of Edith's homemade lemonade.

"Thought I heard someone complain in here," he mocked. "Edith sent this up."

He placed it on the coffee table before coming over to kiss me, then my belly.

"Are you two causing trouble again?" he spoke to our babies.

They calmed down at the sound of his voice, even if only a little.

"I can't believe they're already listening to you," I murmured. "I'm gonna be outnumbered."

Michael chuckled, lifting up my shirt, revealing my brand new stretch marks that always seemed to appear overnight.

"I'll, uh, be right back... I think you need some family time." Rosa said quickly, and left before I could protest.

I watched as my husband placed small kisses on each mark, slowly making his way up just under my chest, where the babies kicked the most.

"Speaking of family matters..." he said into my skin. "Mother called earlier. She invited us to Hayvenhurst for the weekend."

Oh, that's just great.

"Michael, I'm three weeks before my due date."

"I know, I told her that. She insisted, and the entire family is coming on Sunday for lunch. You know how stubborn my mother can get..."

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, I know.

If she had it her way, Michael and I would've been married the day I found out I was pregnant.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? It's not exactly a short drive, and I feel like I'm a fucking ticking time bomb. And Joseph's gonna be there." I said.

"Hey, no cursing next to the kids," he had a playful smile on. "I'll deal with Joseph. All you gotta do is show up and let my mother pamper you."

"You think she wants to help with the Joseph situation?"

"Even if she does, I don't care. I know where I stand."

I sighed, "Okay. We'll go. But if anything happens, or I have even one contraction, we're heading home."

"No need to tell me twice."

"Good," I lay back, allowing him to interact with our babies some more. "How was the session?"

"Just wrapped things up. Oh, and I got this."

Michael pulled out a small, blue chip from his pocket. It read '90 days'.

"Aw, Mike... I'm so proud of you." I rubbed his arm, admiring the small chip.

He squeezed my hand, his eyes warm as he locked them with mine.

"Couldn't have done it without you." he replied, his voice as sweet as ever.

I leaned forward with a bit of a struggle, pulling him into a tight hug.

"You're stronger than you think, Michael. You're ready for anything, even the sleepless nights." I joked in his ear.

"Oh, don't remind me." he chuckled, his hand finding its way back to my belly.

The babies responded with a few more nudges, as if cheering him on, too.

"See? They're already proud of you." I kissed his shoulder, suddenly feeling so loved.

The nursery, the lemonade, the endless baby kicks; it was overwhelming sometimes, but moments like these made it all feel worth it.

Michael pulled away, examining my tired, sweaty face. "Let's take a cold shower, then I can help you with that stretch mark cream..."

I sighed in relief, grateful. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you more, Angie. Now, come on. Don't want you to overheat."

"Too late for that." I rolled my eyes again as he helped me up.

In the shower, he showed exactly just how much he loved me.

He carefully pinned me to the wall, my back turned to him, holding me as close as possible as he thrust in and out of me.

With every movement, my belly made gentle contact with the wall, the cold tiles sending a pleasant shiver through me.

One of his large hands squeezed my breasts, while the other guided me, holding me up as my legs shook.

No matter how big I was getting, he still loved every inch of me.

Even after we climaxed, he kept himself inside me, and made sure I took in every little drop of his love.

He then kissed me endlessly, first my shoulders, my breasts, our babies, until he reached my inner thighs.

The water got too cold for me to bear while his tongue swirled around my entrance, but I was too wrapped up in ecstasy to notice.

His large hands steadied me when I came again, my knees nearly bucking towards him.

Later, in my closet room, Michael dressed me in a silky red dress Rosa got for our honeymoon, now fitting less loose.

He guided me to bed, where we spent the rest of the day, and him gently massaging my bump with my cream, like he promised.

~

5th of August, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Michael: I helped Angela out of the car, carefully holding her waist as she steadied herself on the ground.

"You good, baby?" I chuckled, noticing the small beads of sweat already forming on her forehead.

"Just get me out of this heat." she huffed.

Bill grabbed our bags while I guided Angela to the door.

We've decided to stay at my parent's for the entire weekend, until Monday morning, when Dr. Grey would meet us for the last ultrasound before the babies come.

"Michael!" mother hugged me tightly, before reaching out to Angela, who made a face at my mother even touching her.

I was the only one allowed to touch her lately, and even I was over-doing it at times.

"Hi, Katherine..." she sighed.

"Oh, you've grown so much... Let me feel my grandchildren..."

My wife closed her eyes, very much irritated, yet she said nothing as mother moved her hands around her stomach.

Angela finally had enough, putting two hands on her lower back, to show my mother her discomfort without hurting her feelings.

"Lord, where are my manners? Come in, let's sit you down." mother ushered us inside.

She took us to the living room, and I expected Joseph to be there, but he wasn't.

"Where's Joseph?" Angela asked, taking a seat on an armchair and putting her feet up on the leg rest.

I smiled at her, a small gesture to show how much I appreciated her asking for me.

"He'll be back soon," mother told her, then offered some refreshments and a snack. "So, what's new?"

"Not much. Your son is losing his patience with me, though." Angela laughed as she rubbed her stomach.

"Hey," I scoffed. "Never."

"Don't lie... I'm a handful right now. I'm always uncomfortable, my back hurts, and I feel like a whale."

"And you have the complete right to feel all those things, dear," mother told Angela. "You know, when I was pregnant with Marlon and his twin, I was so cranky... Joseph never heard the end of it."

Angela's eyes lit up, "Really? That sounds... Familiar."

Katherine laughed. "Oh, yes. The house had never heard so much fussing! Poor Joseph practically walked on eggshells around me. And believe me, with twins, everything just feels twice as heavy."

Angela relaxed slightly, leaning back into the chair, her eyes drifting towards the framed photos on the wall.

She seemed to be studying each face, maybe thinking about how our own children would soon join this legacy.

But as if on cue, the front door opened, and a familiar, heavy footstep echoed through the foyer.

Joseph made his way into the living room, eyes landing on me first. "Michael."

"Joseph." I mumbled.

He didn't greet Angela, making my blood boil. How can he disrespect her like that?

"I'll go make sure dinner is ready." mother said, standing and leaving the three of us on our own.

It was awkwardly quiet for a few, long minutes, before Angela let out a groan from her armchair.

Her hands pressed the top part of her ribs, eyeing me desperately. "They're doing it again, Mike."

Joseph's eyes looked over at Angela for the first time, his expression oddly calm.

He watched as she shifted uncomfortably in the chair, her hands moving to massage where the babies kicked.

"What do you mean, they're doing it again?" he asked finally.

Angela took a deep breath, trying to keep her patience.

"They're pressing up against my ribs- feels like one of them is trying to climb inside." she laughed lightly, though I could see the pain in her eyes.

"Need me to help?" I asked.

"Please."

I bit my lip, crouching down in front of her.

She exposed her big bump, giving me more access to our children.

Her fingers found my hair, and they ran through it gently as I cooed at my babies, rubbing the spots where their feet were.

I could sense Joseph's quiet gaze on us, but it felt almost softer this time.

"They're really active today... I thought Dr. Grey said they'd calm down." she exhaled.

I glanced up at her, meeting her eyes. "Guess they're just excited to meet you. They're already getting ready for their big debut."

"Big debut, huh? They're Jacksons for sure, then..."

Joseph hadn't said a word yet, but his stare never left us.

I expected a comment or critique, but instead, there was silence.

He opened his mouth, like he he wanted to say something.

But instead, he gave us a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Well," he said quietly. "I hope they settle down for you, Angela. So you can at least enjoy this weekend."

It wasn't exactly warm, but it was the closest I'd ever seen him come to offering her kindness.

I felt Angela's fingers stop in my hair, and when I looked up, she gave my father a small smile. "Thank you, Joseph. I hope so, too."

Just then, mother came back, announcing dinner was ready.

Joseph joined her in the kitchen, while Angela and I stayed put for a moment.

"Did you see that?" she said and pulled down her shirt. "That was so weird..."

"It's almost like he cared." I rolled my eyes.

She sighed, "Maybe he does. I mean, there's a reason he came over a few weeks ago..."

"Yeah, to tell me his opinion about my rehab. Come on, Angie, don't fall for it." I begged.

Angela cupped my face. "I know it's hard to believe, but maybe... Just maybe, he's trying to make things right, in his own way. Don't forget it wasn't actually him in your nightmares, Mike."

I shook my head, feeling a familiar frustration rise up. "But it was him my whole life, Ange. I've spent years trying to make him happy. Trust me, he doesn't just change overnight."

She leaned down to place a tender, understanding kiss on my lips.

"Michael, I get it. I really do. And I know he's hurt you more than anyone should have the right to. But maybe he wants to be part of our kids' lives, even if he doesn't know how to show it yet."

I knew she was right, that I couldn't control what Joseph did or didn't do.

Yet seeing her holding on to hope, even for him, stirred something inside me.

She had a tendency to see the good in others, and while I'd never admit it, a small part of me wanted her to be right.

"Fine. I'll put up with him for the weekend..." I murmured, almost like a little child. "But the moment he steps out of line, I'm getting us out of here."

"I know. You're just protecting us, Mike. And for that, I love you."

We kissed again, deeper this time.

"I love you, too, Angie." I whispered against her lips.

Just then, mother called for us again, reminding us of dinner, and we both took a deep breath before making our way to the dining room.

~

6th of August, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Angela: I tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position.

My back was killing me, even with the extra three pillows Katherine gave me, and I so desperately wanted to get up and walk around for a bit.

But Michael's voice echoed in my head, reminding me to take it easy.

And if it couldn't get worse, the babies pressed their weight on my left side, making it impossible to lay on it.

I looked up, then around Michael's old bedroom, now turned guest room.

Even with the open window and a fan running straight at me, I felt like I was suffocating.

I need to get up.

"Damn it." I mumbled, sitting.

Michael slept deeply next to me, not noticing my struggles.

Although a bit annoyed with the fact, I loved seeing his this way.

So relaxed, being the best version of himself he could be.

I placed a small kiss on his cheek, before carefully getting out of bed.

I moved quietly out the door and down the stairs, avoiding any noise that might disturb him.

I was careful with each step, afraid my balance would betray me.

"Okay, babies, let's get some water and go back to sleep..." I whispered, cradling them.

But when I reached the kitchen, I was surprised to see the light on.

I walked in, only to find Joseph sitting at the kitchen island, a book in front of him, reading glasses perched on his nose.

His tired eyes met my own. "Angela?"

"That's me." I sighed, waddling to the fridge.

I opened it to find bottles of chilled mineral water and grabbed one.

"Why are you awake?" he asked.

"Your grandchildren are bothering me," I answered, taking a long sip. "Why are you awake?"

"Couldn't sleep. A lot on my mind."

I blinked, taken aback by how much he sounded like Michael before his rehab, when he would sometimes have nights when the insomnia took over.

Maybe they are more alike than Michael thinks.

I took another sip of water, letting the coolness ease my dry throat.

Joseph's gaze remained fixed on his book, his face illuminated by the soft kitchen light.

His brow furrowed as if lost in thought.

"Anything in particular on your mind?" I questioned, cautiously, though I was genuinely curious.

It was rare to see him this unguarded.

Joseph exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple as he looked back down at his book.

"Just... Life. Seems like things are changing fast these days." he murmured, almost to himself.

I nodded, placing a hand on my belly as one of the babies gave another strong kick.

"Tell me about it," I chuckled. "Seems like every day brings something new. Can't exactly keep up, especially with these two reminding me they're on their way."

He glanced over, his eyes briefly settling on my stomach.

For a second, his brows softened. But it vanished just as quickly as it came.

"You must be excited." he said, though it came out more like a statement than a question.

"Excited, yeah... But also a little terrified," I admitted. "I mean, I got Michael by my side, but these two will be here in three weeks, and everything will change."

He nodded slowly, then looked down, taking off his reading glasses and folding them carefully.

"Change isn't easy. Especially with family. But sometimes, it just happens- whether we're ready or not." he sounded almost... Sad.

I took in a small breath, sensing bit of vulnerability and deciding to try my luck.

"Michael doesn't always understand you," I said gently, watching him for a reaction. "But I think he wants to. He's just... Been hurt, and he's afraid... Of maybe becoming like you."

Joseph's shoulders tensed, his fingers running along the spine of the book on the counter.

"He was always a sensitive one," he mumbled. "Never took well to... Criticism. Hard to know how to help a child like that."

"Sometimes he just needed to know he was good enough. I think he spent a lot of time trying to prove something, to you, to himself. And he's still trying to make sense of it all." I explained.

Joseph looked up, meeting my gaze.

In that moment, I saw a hint of remorse in his eyes, but it disappeared in an instant.

"I didn't always handle things right," he confessed quietly. "But a father can't change what he's done. Only what he'll do. Or a grandfather at that..."

I studied him, surprised to hear him speak so openly.

There was definitely more beneath his stern exterior than Michael gave him credit for.

"You know, when Rebbie got pregnant, I didn't want anything to do with her... I thought she was wasting her time. 'Career first, kids second' is what I said. But when I held that baby in my arms..."

Joseph's voice softened, and he stared at the kitchen counter, almost as if he was looking at something that wasn't there.

"I remember feeling... Small. Like everything I'd pushed for, every word I'd said to drive my children harder, didn't mean as much when that little baby looked up at me," he shook his head, a faint, bitter smile playing on his lips. "And I still didn't know how to say it. Didn't know how to show them... That I was proud."

I blinked, taking in his words. "Maybe you didn't need to be perfect back then, Joseph. Maybe just showing up, even when it felt too late, was enough."

He looked up at me, and in his green eyes, there was something I'd never seen before.

"That's what I hope," he said lowly. "That it can still mean something. Especially now."

His eyes dropped to my stomach again. "Michael doesn't know this, but... With these two, I... don't want to make the same mistakes. Not again."

His words lingered between us, as the kitchen fell silent.

I reached out, covering his hand with mine.

My father-in-law raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.

"Michael may not say or show it," I told him. "But I believe he wants you to be there for our babies, too... He still cares what you think, you know. Whether good or bad. He carries so much of you with him, even when he doesn't want to."

Joseph swallowed, his hand tensing slightly under mine.

"I see him," he whispered, and I barely caught it. "And maybe... I'll find a way to make it right. With him. And with these two. Although he definitely sees me as the big bad most times."

"Well, try to show him otherwise. I think he'd appreciate that."

We sat in silence, the low hum of the fridge and the ticking of the clock the only sounds between us, sharing a rare moment of peace in a world that seemed to be changing faster than either of us could keep up with.