Chapter Text
Petra clenches her teeth tightly around the blue lollipop. Frustration pulsing deeply at each word coming from Milos's mouth. Her throat hurts from not crying. She hangs up the phone and tries to breathe through the nausea. But, of course, she can't have a single minute to get herself together—Jane steps into her office.
“Did you ever get sick?” Petra asks. She might as well instigate the conversation. Jane is going to whether Petra wants her to or not.
And, of course, Jane never got sick. The world seems to be shaped just so to be cruel to Petra alone.
Jane reminds Petra of the day in the stairwell, and Petra somehow manages to hold her face together. The two of them had come to an unspoken agreement afterword never to mention that night again. But Jane presses on, asking if Petra is in danger, and it's just... so like Jane, to persist. To cut right to the truth of it all.
Petra swallows, remembering the night in the stairwell. Thinking about how it was the first time Jane had felt real to her since the day they met, and how she didn’t want it to end, and how that was so, so dangerous. To want like that. To be vulnerable, laying all her cards out on the table. She thinks about how of all the people she has met in her life, Jane is one of the few who has ever truly listened to her. She didn't give Petra that look and run away when Petra told her about some of the parts of herself that aren’t pretty. Maybe, in another life, it could be like this: genuine friendship. Sharing their secrets and their dreams like it means something, instead of just fight after fight after fight.
On instinct, Petra defends herself to Jane. Tells her about Milos giving her the violin. Feeling happy and wanted by someone for the first time in her life. But then, she falters. The gravity of her situation sets in. She was a child in nearly every respect when she dated Milos. Twenty-four or not, she had been incredibly sheltered and naive. Natalia had thought she was in love. That her happily ever after had come. If that girl could see her now... frightened by the man she thought she loved. Divorced. Four failed relationships later. Pregnant and alone. Natalia wouldn't recognize her at all.
She doesn't even play the violin anymore.
The world twists adults into shapes they never thought that they’d be. Petra sucks on the lollipop again. It's probably turning her lips blue. She must look ridiculous. Jane nods, but Petra can tell that she doesn't fully buy her story. It doesn't matter. Petra's said enough to get Jane to leave.
She bites into the lollipop—too hard—and cuts the inside of her cheek. Her throat burns, but she still doesn't allow herself to cry.
…
…
Milos gives her a violin. Not a knock off this time, and she knows instantly. He's listening in on her somehow. Bugging her. Her phone, her room, her office—she has no idea. But Milos is somehow listening in on everything that she says. So, when Jane invites herself into Petra's room the next morning—her wedding day—Petra clams up. She goes icy on survival instinct.
Until Jane tells Petra that she has gone and visited her mother. Petra snaps right to attention at that.
Jane (and Rafael) have concocted some sort of plan with a flash drive. It sounds simple enough in theory, but Petra has learned not to underestimate Milos. And if he's listening in somehow... it's doomed to fail. Jane just sounds so sure of herself. She smiles at Petra and fixes Mateo's blanket, and Petra just...
“Why are you doing this?” she asks. “You don't... I'll keep him away from Mateo.” She can't help but glance down at the sleeping baby in question. She's only gotten a few good looks at him. But... he's beautiful. Her hand goes to her stomach out of its own accord.
“Ninety-eight percent of it is because of Mateo,” Jane admits. Her voice drops, softening. “But... two percent is because... I kind of care about you, Petra.” Petra can't help the shock that slips onto her face. She feels nearly bowled over by it. It's surprising that her knees haven't buckled. Jane shrugs, holding the flash drive out, her words coming out in a mumble. “In that, I don't want you to marry a psycho kind of way.”
Petra feels frozen. She means to uncross her arms and take the flash drive. To nod and promise Jane that she will try, and then just get on with marrying Milos once she leaves. It's only a year of her life. She's going to start getting fat and undesirable soon enough, he won't want to try anything with her.
“I...” Petra swallows and reaches for the flash drive with shaky hands. Jane frowns. For a moment, Petra thinks Jane will just leave it. Walk out of the room with Mateo and Petra's fate will be sealed. Jane nearly turns to leave, but she shakes her head and turns back around.
“No, you know what? I'm sorry, I know in many ways this is none of my business, but Mateo's asleep and I don't have to be anywhere right now. Where's his computer? Let me... I can help.”
Petra meets Jane's eyes then, because, Jane of all people is under no obligation to help her with anything. She has already gone above and beyond what any decent person would do. Visiting Magda cannot have been easy for her. But, Petra can't find an ounce of insincerity in her face. Petra lowers down into her seat, motioning for Jane to do the same. Then she makes a noise that might have been a laugh, but it’s too raw in all the wrong places. Jane's hand reaches out across the table and winds into her own. Petra stares at it silently for a moment, then reaches over and grabs for Jane's phone. Jane looks utterly confused and momentarily angry, but Petra ignores her and quickly types out a note.
Milos is bugging me somehow. He can hear all of this.
Jane's eyes go hilariously wide and she gasps, scrambling for her phone and typing furiously.
WHAT? For real?
Petra only nods. Jane's eyes scan the room, like she can see whatever Milos is using to listen in on them. Then she just leaps out of her chair, one hand on Mateo's stroller, the other clutching Petra's in a death grip. She yanks the three of them out of the room, Petra's hair still in curlers.
Jane freezes in the hallway, then quickly types again on her phone, holding it up in Petra's face.
Do you have your phone on you right now?
Petra shakes her head. Jane nods, bends down, types again and passes the phone to Petra. Before she can even start to read the message, she feels Jane's hands patting down her stomach. Petra yelps. Jane glares up at her and points to her phone before resuming her search.
There might be a bug on your body!!!
Petra huffs as Jane searches every inch of Petra's dress. She swats Jane's hands away when she considers checking inside her bra.
“Right, that'd probably be insane,” Jane agrees, her voice a whisper. “Though... he is insane...” Before she can even rationalize what she is doing, Petra simply unclips her bra, pulls it out from her sleeve, and hangs it on the doorknob. Jane nods once at it in satisfaction, then grabs Petra's hand again, pulling her into the stairwell. “Do you think... should we still type?” Jane whispers.
Petra sighs and drops down onto the stairs. Jane is beside her immediately, hand clasped in her own. “I'm sorry,” Petra says, as she feels her eyes begin to well up.
“It's okay,” Jane insists, hurriedly typing on her phone. “I just texted Michael.”
“Michael?”
“Yes. Michael. A cop.”
“I... you don't even know what I've... you know what. It'll be fine, Jane. It's only a year of my life.”
“What?” Jane hisses. “Petra what does he have over you that you feel like you can't trust anyone?”
Petra clenches her teeth and presses her palms together as tight as she can. Jane is just waiting, there's no pressure or judgment on her face. Petra knows that it's coming though, if she really explains it all. But, she's so tired. She's never felt this tired in her life. Trauma shared is trauma halved. Maybe.
Petra tells Jane everything. The faked medical papers for her mother's wheelchair. Covering for her mother pushing Alba Villanueva down the stairs. (The look on Jane's face at that one, even though it's not news to her, almost causes Petra to end her confession right there.) Petra doesn't look at Jane as she tells her about holding Ivan hostage. Jane's sharp intake of breath is enough.
“So you see... you can't... Michael can't...”
Jane's hand slips back into her own. “We'll figure it out,” she promises. Her phone rings and Jane jumps to answer it. “Michael!” she says, almost manically. “Did you get my texts?” Mateo starts to fuss and Jane's voice drops to a whisper as she digs a bottle out of her bag. It's pressed into Petra's hands and she nearly drops it in shock. “See if you can get him to sleep,” Jane whispers. “I'll be right out in the hall. He'll be a nightmare later if he doesn't sleep for at least another half hour.”
“What?” Petra asks in horror, but Jane is already out of the stairwell. Petra glances back down at the baby. His eyes are still closed, but his mouth is gearing up for a wail. Petra shoves the bottle in it before he can cry. Awkwardly, she makes shushing noises and rocks the stroller a little. It seems to be working, no matter how out of place Petra feels doing it. She can't remember ever being alone with a baby before this moment. And suddenly she feels so unprepared for motherhood she wants to scream. Petra clamps her mouth shut and watches Mateo instead. He's settling back down. The red in his face returning to its natural color as he relaxes. Petra chances brushing a single finger down his cheek. As light as she can manage. She's never felt anything so soft and fragile in all her life. Mateo leans into her touch, and Petra has to choke down a sob. Apparently, pregnancy hormones kick right in.
Jane slips back into the stairwell a moment later, her face as serious as Petra has ever seen it. “Is he going to arrest me?” Petra asks in a panic.
“No,” Jane assures her quickly. “No, I didn't even tell him about Ivan.”
Petra's shocked. “Really?” Jane shakes her head, her fingers curling onto Mateo's stroller. Petra watches Jane swallow and try to mentally prepare herself for whatever it is that she's going to say. “It's alright,” Petra tells her. “He can't help,” she assumes with a shrug, the answer clear on Jane's face.
“It's... he needs evidence. Time. He needs time to get evidence. Then he can help.”
“I don't have time,” Petra says, accepting the horror she knew was inevitable hours ago. “The wedding is in six hours.” Jane's entire body deflates. Petra forgets sometimes, that Jane is nearly seven years younger than her. That she is a romantic. In her eyes, this is the part where they come up with a plan to save the day and everything works out. Petra stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago. She stands up, rolling the empty bottle in between her hands. “I told you, it's only a year. I'll be fine, Jane. But...” she looks down at Mateo, unable to look Jane in the eye as she says this. “The fact that you care that two percent... it's more than I deserve. Thank you for trying.”
“Marry me,” Jane says firmly.
Petra snaps her head up in shock. “What?”
Jane is deadly serious. “Michael said... well, he was joking, but, he said if you married someone else before Milos found out. Well, then, you'd get rights. Protection. Marital, I don't know. And he'd have time to get evidence on Milos. If you're already married to someone else, Milos can't force you to marry him. And he won't be able to stay in the country much longer if he's not married to you. And since Michael knows, he can help keep the stuff Milos has over you quiet. Not like, him breaking the law,” she says seriously. “Just like, Milos is a psycho criminal, and you were someone put in a really bad situation and... reacted to it. He'd have time to help.”
“Jane...” Petra can't comprehend what is happening right now.
“I'm serious, Petra,” Jane insists. “Marry me. We can go to City Hall right now. Then he can't hurt you.”
“That's... this is insane,” Petra whispers.
“A little bit, maybe,” Jane agrees. “But it's our best plan.”
“Jane...”
“You don't deserve this, Petra,” Jane insists, her voice fierce. Petra stares down at her, mouth agape. Jane is... well she's tiny, but she's not small. Her face is so full of determination and her body is practically thrumming, unable to contain the ferocity inside of her. Petra looks at her and hears the words coming out of her mouth and feels... protected almost. Like somehow, this tiny ferocious woman could actually hold back Milos through sheer force of will. “He doesn't get to do this to you. This isn't... penance or retribution. You do not deserve to be forcibly married to a man you're afraid of. You're...” Jane's eyes flicker down to Petra's stomach. “You're going to have a baby, Petra,” she says, with awe in her voice. “You're going to be someone's mom. Mateo's sibling's mom. Your child doesn't deserve this, and neither do you. I can help. Please don't marry him,” she pleads. “It may be a little crazy, but it can work. We can make it work. Please don't give up, Petra,” Jane's voice cracks just slightly at that. She swallows and recovers, locking eyes with Petra. “You can marry me instead.”
It's the fourth time Petra has been proposed to in her thirty-one years. Lachlan's proposal, looking back on it, wasn't as romantic as she used to remember it as. It had felt romantic at the time. The fact that someone wanted her enough to be with her forever. But... she had never felt the same way. She'd known it even then, with him standing across from her, holding out a ring. (He'd never embarrass himself enough to get down on one knee.) But, it had felt good being wanted. It had felt like enough. And her mother was insistent, so Petra said 'yes'.
Rafael's proposal was romantic. In a certain way. She had been in love at least. They'd been tangled together in bed, and he pulled a ring out of nowhere, grin on his face and laughter in his eyes. Petra had been shocked, had actually squealed with happiness. He slipped the ring on her finger and they went right back to making love. Her mother hadn't approved. She wanted Petra to marry Lachlan. Somehow, that made Petra even more sure in her decision. They had been happy, once. But clearly, it hadn't been destined to last.
Milos's proposal was a threat. Through and through. He'd call it a deal, but Petra knows better. Whether she forces him to agree to certain terms or not, it was a threat. Not to be taken lightly, not a hint of romance involved. Marry me, or else.
Jane's proposal... is practical. And emotional. And... feels like a way out. Jane is looking at her and promising protection. Friendship. It's crazy, and desperate, and feels like someone's offered her a lifeline. A reprieve.
A silence falls between them and solidifies somewhere around Petra’s diaphragm, then—
Jane reaches out and for maybe the fourth time today, slips her hand into Petra's and squeezes. Their hands fit well together. It's an odd thing to be thinking about right now, but it's what comes into Petra's head. She looks at Jane's face again, thinks about what her life with Milos will be like and feels nauseous. She can't tell if it's because of the baby, or because of Milos, or both. But Jane squeezes her hand again, her thumb rubbing lightly across the back of Petra's hand, and Petra feels her head jerk down, and back up again into a nod. “Okay,” she croaks. “I'll marry you.”
…
…
They go to City Hall immediately.
Jane pushes Mateo, half asleep in his stroller as she calls someone named Lina who Petra can vaguely picture if she tries hard enough. Jane doesn't stop talking for a second. Nerves, or awkwardness, Petra doesn't know. She simply nods and hums at what feel like pauses directed towards her and walks beside Jane, unable to really take in anything that she is saying. She's yanked her hair out of the curlers, but she still doesn't have a bra on.
Before she really knows what is happening, Petra is standing beside Jane while she fills out the paperwork for their marriage license. Jane harasses an officiant into allowing them to be married right now, instead of waiting the required twenty-four hours. When Jane is on the verge of screaming at him in frustration, Petra snaps her fingers in his face and levels him with a glare. He shrinks from her with a sigh and passes the rest of the paperwork over.
“That's a useful skill,” Jane says with a smile. Petra shrugs and glances down at the paper she's supposed to sign. Jane's handwriting is neat and artistic. The officiant comes back and hovers, waiting for Petra to sign and pass it back to him. Petra grips the pen tightly as Lina arrives—yelling at Jane about how ridiculous this all is and waking up Mateo. Jane hushes her and rocks him while the officiant waits impatiently. Petra sucks in a breath and scrawls her name beside Jane's, it's unimpressive and messy beside Jane's intricate and practiced signature.
“Are you seriously getting married to her?” Lina asks.
“Lina!” Jane snaps, “are you gonna be my witness or not?”
“Obviously,” Lina rolls her eyes, and struts up to the desk, batting her lashes at the officiant as she scribbles her own name to the paperwork. “It's just my duty as your best friend to tell you when you're being batshit crazy.” She turns around and glances at Petra. “This is definitely at the top of the list of crazy shit you've done.”
“Noted,” Jane says. “Hold Mateo for me.”
The officiant motions for Jane and Petra to stand beside each other. Someone hands them both a tiny bouquet of flowers and Petra stares at hers. Daisies. Jane's are lilacs. Not what Petra would have picked, but she finds herself smiling at them all the same. The officiant reads off whatever formal nonsense is required, and then Jane is nudging Petra with her elbow.
“Sorry,” she says.
The officiant shrugs, and repeats himself. “Do you, Petra Solano, take Jane Gloriana Villanueva as your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Yes,” Petra nods. Her tongue feels too thick for her mouth. “I do.”
“And do you, Jane Gloriana Villanueva, take Petra Solano as your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks Jane.
Petra watches her hesitate. Realization at what they are truly doing settling in. Jane looks over at Lina and Mateo and fidgets with the lilacs in her hands.
“You don't have to, Jane,” Petra whispers. “It's okay. I'll—”
“Yes,” Jane says resolutely, “I do.”
Lina pulls rings out of a plastic shopping bag and yanks the tags off them. “Here.”
“These are mood rings,” Jane says as she takes the band offered to her.
“You just said get matching rings quick and get down here. It's not like they sell wedding bands at CVS.”
Jane rolls her eyes and glares at the band momentarily. “It'll do,” she decides, and gently takes Petra's hand, slipping the ring onto her finger. It turns an orange-yellow color. Petra takes the other ring from Lina and slips it onto Jane's finger. Hers turns a sort of yellow-green. Petra doesn't know what moods they're supposed to represent. She hasn't had a mood ring since she was ten years old. It broke after two days.
“Congratulations,” the officiant says with a bright smile. “By the power invested in me, by the state of Florida, I now pronounce you, Mrs. and Mrs. Villanueva. You may kiss the bride.”
“Villanueva?” Jane asks, surprised. Petra is as well, she hadn't even paid attention to what she scribbled down.
“Oh, sorry... I didn't...”
“It's fine,” Jane assures her. “I just didn't... we're really married,” she says in shock.
“You've gotta kiss first,” Lina reminds them smugly.
The officiant watches them expectantly and Petra swallows. Turning to face Jane head on, she twists the new ring on her finger. It turns bright orange. Jane's ring mimicking the color on her own finger. Jane gives Petra a shaky smile and a shrug, leaning up on her toes. Petra takes half a second to acknowledge the motion as adorable, then meets Jane halfway, connecting their lips together. She hears Lina wolf whistle from behind them, causing Jane to smile just a bit into the kiss. It barely lasts seconds before they both pull apart, but Petra's lips come away tingling all the same. The urge to reach up and touch them is overwhelming, but she balls her hands into fists. Jane stares at her for a moment without blinking. The officiant hands Lina the paperwork and walks away, leaving them staring at each other. It's quiet and awkward and Petra doesn't know what to do with her hands. The bouquet of daisies is crushed in her palms.
Lina passes Mateo back to Jane, snapping her back to attention. Lina loops her arm through Jane's free one and asks if they can go get some food now, because she skipped lunch to come over here, and she's starving. Petra follows them out of the courthouse on autopilot.
When they arrive back at the Marbella, Lina heads off immediately in search of food. Petra and Jane head towards her suite to pack her things and hide from Milos; wedding preparations are still going on in the ballroom. Petra sees Rafael walk down the hall and make his way towards Jane with determination. He gives Petra a single, exasperated glance before turning his attention solely on Jane and Mateo. Nothing new there. Petra fights the urge to roll her eyes.
“What's going on?” he asks. “I've been talking to Milos for hours. I get a text from you saying, 'keep him stalled, new plan, different getting married'. What the hell does that mean?” he snaps at Petra. “What did you do?”
All of Petra's defensive instincts kick in before she can stop herself. “I married Jane instead,” she snaps back. Relishing a little in the wave of shock and hurt that falls over his face. Jane gives her a warning glare and Petra sighs. “It's a long, mostly ridiculous story. Jane very selflessly offered this solution,” she softens her voice. “I'm extremely grateful,” she directs mostly towards Jane. “I'll go pack. Let the two of you talk.”
Jane nods and Petra slips into her suite, hearing Rafael and Jane arguing in hushed voices through the door. She can't help but check to make sure that Milos isn't in the room as she hurriedly shoves her things into her bags. Not bothering to fold anything. It'll all be full of wrinkles. Petra can't bring herself to care. At least she's got a bra on now.
After a few moments, the voices in the hallway rise, and Petra thinks she can pick out Michael's voice among them. She hears Jane chastise the both of them angrily while Mateo begins to cry. Then, the baby screams. A terrible, pained wail that causes her stomach to drop. Petra sprints out of the room, her bags mostly packed. Jane is panicking and holding Mateo, blood welling up on his arm. Michael and Rafael are tangled together in a fight on the floor. Both men jump up at the sight of Mateo, worry and guilt on both their faces. Jane shrinks back from both of them, her panic increasing.
Petra's not sure exactly what happened, but the shards of glass on the floor are explanation enough for the moment. She steps forward and places her hand gently on the small of Jane's back. “Let's get him to a doctor,” she says softly. Jane whimpers in response, nodding and starting down the hall.
Michael and Rafael both start apologizing at once. Mateo's cries become louder, and Jane snaps at them both before walking down the hall, Petra following behind. Her bags hang heavy and awkward in her hands.
…
…
Petra sits in a waiting chair, biting her nails. A habit she hasn't done in years. She snaps at Michael. “You're making me dizzy, sit down,” she says forcefully.
“Mateo's hurt,” he says, yanking his hands through his hair roughly. “I—”
“You making me want to vomit all over my shoes isn't going to change that.”
Michael freezes and stares down at Petra. “Why are you even here?” he asks, not unkindly.
Petra bristles all the same. It has been a whirlwind of a day, to say the least. “I'm Jane's wife,” she snaps. “Mateo's stepmother too, I guess.” The shock on Michael's face is nothing compared to Rafael's, and Petra allows herself a moment to feel terrible for him. If things had just worked out as planned, Michael and Jane would be the ones married right now. She would have never even divorced Rafael. She wouldn't have to be here at all, pregnant and married to a woman she barely likes, let alone knows. Running scared from her past again. The hurt on Michael's face only cements the complete absurdity of the entire situation.
“What?” he gasps.
“Apparently, it was your bright idea,” she says with a shrug. “Don't get angry at me for saying yes.”
“My idea? I said... it was a joke.” He starts pacing again. Petra really might vomit on him if he doesn't stop. “I'm getting fired because of Rafael, and you married Jane,” he mutters. Petra looks up in shock at that. The whole point of this sham of a marriage was to give Michael time to find evidence on Milos. She needs him to be a cop for that.
“You're fired?” she asks.
“About to be,” he answers, sounding more dejected than Petra has ever heard him.
“Perfect,” Petra snaps. Michael looks like he is about to start screaming at her, but Jane and Rafael emerge with Mateo. Both Petra and Michael jump to attention.
“Is he—”
“He's alright,” Jane says, sounding much more like she's trying to convince herself. There's a large bandage on his tiny little arm, and he's sleeping soundly in Jane's arms. “He'll be alright,” Jane corrects herself.
“Jane, if we could please—” Rafael begins, clearly trying to finish whatever they'd been saying in the doctor's office. Jane cuts him off with a single look.
“Jane—” Michael steps forward. Rafael looks like he is about to punch him again. “I am, so sorry,” Michael says sincerely. Rafael scoffs and Jane looks ready to murder the both of them on the spot.
“I can't talk to either of you right now,” she says, leaving no room for argument. She rocks Mateo again and looks up, seemingly noticing Petra for the first time in the last two hours. Her face twists as she remembers: they're married now. Petra swallows thickly, expecting Jane to call it off somehow. Send her back to The Marbella and Milos and leave her to her own devices. She straightens her shoulders, ready for it. “Come on, Petra,” she says instead, “let's go home.”
Shock radiates off Petra, Michael, and Rafael. Jane ignores all three of them and walks out of the waiting room. Leaving Petra scrambling to gather her bags and chase after her. Michael and Rafael stand beside each other, matching expressions of guilt and anger on their faces as they watch Petra waddle down the hall in her heels.
…
…
Jane is silent on the bus. Petra sits beside her and tries to keep her bags as close to her as possible. Her phone has been blowing up with texts from Milos for the last half an hour. He calls for the sixty-eighth time in a row and Petra ignores it.
“Is that him?” Jane asks hoarsely. Petra nods, chewing at her bottom lip. If she doesn't stop, it's going to start to bleed. “Can he track your phone?”
Petra's eyes widen. She'd forgotten. Stupidly. Milos calls again and this time, Petra answers. “Stop calling me, Milos,” she says before he can get a word in. “I'm not marrying you. I've married someone else, and I'm not living at The Marbella anymore. You can have your shares back, I don't care what you do. But you must leave me alone.” Petra slams the phone down on the dirty bus floor and cracks her heel into it. The crunch is satisfying, and she grinds it in deeper for effect, not worrying about the damage to her shoe. A teenage boy across from them watches her in horror. The grip on his own phone tightens.
Jane doesn't say a word for two stops, then, “Michael might get fired,” she admits quietly. “Someone—he thinks Rafael—turned him in about covering for his old partner. Or... I don't know. He might... he might not be able to help us.”
Petra swallows down a wave of nausea. “I know,” she sighs. “We... we can go back and get an annulment. You don't have to do this Jane. I'll figure something out.”
Jane's hand moves into her own, squeezing lightly before twining their fingers together. It might be the most anyone has ever held Petra's hand in a single day. “No,” she insists, “I said that I'd help and I meant it. There are other detectives. He's a criminal. If Michael can't...” Jane swallows her tears. “There are other people who can help. We stick with the plan.”
“Okay,” Petra whispers.
The bus stops and Jane yanks Petra upwards. “This is us,” she says, moving to grab one of Petra's bags. Petra scrambles for the rest and kicks the remains of her phone underneath the seat. She'll have to get a new one now. If Milos takes her shares of The Marbella back, she might not even be able to afford one. Or any of her doctor's appointments. Or the actual baby that is currently growing inside of her. Before her panic can truly increase, Jane turns to her and smiles. Too much teeth; more of a wince. “They might... not be so thrilled about the whole, me marrying you thing. So, I'm going to apologize right now. My mother can be incredibly dramatic, and my abuela doesn't always handle surprises well. They... don't have the greatest picture of you.”
Petra scoffs. “Wonderful.”
“I'm sorry,” Jane winces. “Just, please try to be nice.”
“I'm not nice,” Petra says.
Jane rolls her eyes. “Dig deep.”
Petra waits, her bags heavy and uncomfortable in her arms as Jane opens the front door, successfully juggling Mateo and one of Petra's bags. Her stomach flips nervously. If Jane's family doesn't let her stay... she has nowhere else to go. She can't go back to The Marbella, not with Milos there. Petra tries to make herself look soft and inviting, she highly doubts that it works.
“Ma! Abuela!” Jane calls out, setting Petra's bag down. “We're home. I've got... some news.”
“Jane, what took you so long?” Xiomara begins as she enters from the kitchen. “I've been calling you — what happened to Mateo?” she asks in alarm. “Why is she here?” she waves at Petra.
“It's... a very long story,” Jane starts, “but Mateo's okay.” She hands the baby to her mother. “Where's Abuela?”
"Estoy aquí," Alba Villanueva walks into the room and gives Petra an agonizing glare."¿Qué está haciendo aquí?" she asks, barely holding in her anger. Petra's Spanish is... a handful of words and phrases at best. She swallows and defers to Jane.
“Ma, Abuela,” Jane begins calmly, “Petra needs to stay here for a little while.”
“What!” Xiomara shouts.
“No, no lo permitiré.”
Jane takes a deep breath. “She has nowhere else to go. Abuela, it's—”
“Janie, this woman helped her mother after she—”
“I know,” Jane snaps. Petra clenches her fists, fighting her instincts to defend herself. She doesn't look at Alba. “She apologized to me. I'm sure that she will apologize to you both as well,” Jane says, rather pointedly. Petra does not roll her eyes but instead nods. Thinking of the baby growing in her stomach, and Milos' threats. “She was trying to help her mother. Who is now in jail for what she did I might add. Paying for her crimes.”
“I am sorry,” Petra says sincerely, facing Alba's glare. She doesn't offer anything in response. Petra doesn't expect her to.
“Jane,” Xiomara whispers, “she's crazy. She inseminated herself with Rafael's sperm. She's... this is some ploy to get Rafael back and you're helping her.”
“It's not,” Petra says. “Rafael has made it very clear to me that we're not getting back together. We are raising this baby. That's all. We're on the same page. Or... we were before today. I'm not sure what he...” Petra sighs. “This isn't about Rafael.”
“It's not,” Jane agrees. “But Petra and I are... friends now,” she stumbles over the word. “And our children are going to be siblings. We're family.”
Everyone in the room looks dubious. Petra included.
“That... doesn't explain why she needs to stay here and not at, I don't know, her hotel,” Xiomara says.
“Right,” Jane swallows, then speaks more quickly than Petra has ever heard. “Well, her most likely genuinely insane and violent ex-boyfriend who she ran from the Czech Republic to escape from is trying to force her into a green card marriage against her will. He actually owns her shares of the hotel, so she can't stay there. And since I mentioned earlier, she's pregnant with Mateo's brother or sister, and is a person in need of our help, we came up with a plan to give Michael time to get enough evidence against Milos to arrest him.” Jane takes a much-needed breath. Xiomara and Alba stare at her, matching confused looks on their faces.
“So... she's on the run from a Czech... mobster? And she's hiding out with us?” Xiomara asks.
“Essentially yes,” Jane nods, “also we're married,” she adds under her breath. “Let's get Mateo ready for bed!”
“¿Qué?” Alba asks. “No te oí.”
“The plan was that I marry her instead,” Jane says, her words a mumble. “So!” she nearly yells, “Mateo needs his diaper changed, and I'm sure that everyone is hungry since it's so late. Something smells great!” Jane isn't looking at her mother or her grandmother. “Everyone is going to be civil and friendly, because we're all family now, and I have homework.” With that, Jane flees into her bedroom, Mateo in tow. Petra hates her with every inch of her soul for leaving her alone after dropping that bomb.
Xiomara and Alba both turn and gape at Petra. She stands awkwardly in the middle of their living room, her bags at her sides. “It's been a very strange day,” she says quietly.
“¿Casada?” Alba gasps.
“Lo siento,” Petra whispers, with a truly terrible accent. Alba and Xiomara both straighten and snap their attention to her. “I... I am truly sorry for what my mother did to you. And for helping to cover it up. And for any pain that I've caused you or Jane.”
“You're married!?” Xiomara yells.
“Civil!” Jane calls out from her bedroom.
“I am...” Xiomara stalks down the hall, “being perfectly fucking civil!” she snaps back loudly.
“Xiomara!” Alba chastises, at the same time that Jane yells, “Ma!”
“Oh, I'm sorry if I'm just a little shocked when my daughter comes home and announces that she got married on a whim to the ex-wife of her son's father, when last night she told me that she finally decided that she wanted to be with her ex-fiancee!”
Alba slumps down onto the couch. Petra desperately wants to leave.
“Ma, it's obviously a complicated situation—” Jane starts.
“Complicated was finding out that you were artificially inseminated on accident, this, is a whole other level.”
“Ma,” Jane emerges from her bedroom, Mateo in her arms. “It was the best plan we had at the time.” Jane walks back into the living room, addressing her grandmother as well. “Despite Michael's actions, it's still the best plan we have. There are a lot of detectives in Miami, one of them is going to bring Milos to justice. Until then, Petra is staying here. I've had a really long day, and I've got a lot of homework, so I'm not going to talk about it anymore,” she says firmly. Xiomara and Alba both look ready to protest this, but Petra watches as they both sigh and nod instead. “Okay, great,” Jane says. “Let's eat. Petra? You hungry?”
…
…
It doesn't become apparent to Petra that there are only three bedrooms in the house until she is brushing her teeth for the night while Jane finishes her homework. Mateo has been asleep for two hours, and Alba and Xiomara both retired for bed half an hour ago. The only place for her is either the couch or sharing Jane's bed. Petra knows, that there is no way that Jane will ever consider allowing a pregnant guest in her home to sleep on the couch. She can hear Jane humming softly to Mateo through the door. Petra dares a glance down at her stomach. She isn't showing yet. But for all the nausea, she certainly feels the presence of her child—its demands to be known. Petra hasn't allowed herself much time to think about it. All she feels is fear. She made a stupid, rash, and desperate decision, and now she is paying for it.
She's being saved for it. There is no way that Jane would be doing all of this for her if she weren't pregnant. She is a good person, but even she has her limits. Petra doesn't blame her in the slightest. She hasn't given Jane or her family a reason to see her as anything other than what she is, toxic. Just like her mother.
Petra considers, for a concerning length of time, barricading herself in here for the remainder of the night, but Jane would think she was sick and break the door down or something else dramatically ridiculous.
Petra looks at herself in the mirror and straightens her shoulders. Her mother hasn't given her many life skills, but she did teach her how to survive. If Jane is willing to go through all this trouble for an unborn sibling of Mateo's, Petra will let her. She doesn't have anything maternal to offer this baby herself. Keeping her child away from Milos, near Jane, it's better than nothing. She shuts off the bathroom light and closes the door gently before making her way back to Jane's bedroom.
“Hey,” Jane looks up from her book. She's rocking Mateo, waiting for him to burp and go back to sleep. “I'm almost done. I'll turn the light off in a sec, promise.”
“That's fine,” Petra presses the palms of her hands together and glances at the bed. The mood ring on her left finger feels foreign and clunky. Jane watches her staring at the bed and seems to just now come to the same realization as Petra. Her eyes widen.
“Oh, sorry, I didn't...” she lets out a bitter laugh. “We didn't really think this through did we?”
“Look, Jane,” Petra snaps, “I said you didn't have to do this. Many times. If you want me to leave I'll just—”
“No,” Jane interrupts. “That's not what I...” she rises, gently settling Mateo in his crib. “I meant what I said to my mom. To everyone. This is the best plan we have, and I'm not letting you go back to that creep. It'll work.” She arranges her books on her desk, and clicks the overhead light off, leaving them in the dim lamplight. “As long as you're not a kicker,” she jokes.
“I'm not,” Petra snaps, on instinct. She climbs into the bed and rolls away from Jane.
“I'm not either,” Jane offers, climbing in beside Petra. The lamp clicks off, and then they're cloaked in darkness. Petra shifts, letting her eyes adjust. Thankfully, Jane's bed is big enough that they're not touching, but only because they're both actively trying not to. Petra misses her huge, soft bed back at The Marbella.
“This is kind of crazy-funny though right?” Jane whispers a moment later. Petra hums in agreement. She can feel Jane tapping her fingers together anxiously. Petra says nothing. Jane's fidgeting increases. Petra closes her eyes and tries to will her body to sleep.
“How come you don't play the violin anymore?” Jane whispers a few minutes later.
“I don't know,” Petra answers. A lie.
“I always wanted to learn how to play an instrument really well. I tried the flute for a bit in fourth grade, but I was terrible. My mom made me quit after I started crying while I practiced. I hated it. But it didn't want to be bad at it.”
Petra hums again. Jane is silent for a full forty seconds before she starts whispering again. “It was actually kind of funny looking back on it. I mean, I was so bad and Abuela would sit there and try to smile and listen and encourage me. And this one neighbor—who was like, just always angry about something—came over and yelled at me to stop. And my mom flipped out on him for it. She actually started throwing almonds at him and chased him halfway down the street for making me cry,” Jane chuckles to herself. “He never came around complaining about anything again. Then he moved away like a year later.”
Petra says nothing in response. She doesn't know what to say. She has no concept of a mother charging after a crotchety old neighbor in her defense. She was terrible at the violin for a full year and a half. Her fingers were constantly sore. Once or twice they bled. She had cried while she practiced too. Many times. But instead of giving her permission to quit something that she hated, her mother had smacked her and told her to get on with it. They needed the money. Natalia needed a skill for them to commodify—something besides being pretty.
Jane fidgets again and Petra sighs. “So... I mean, are you thinking of going back to The Marbella to work tomorrow?” Jane asks. “Because, Milos... I mean, I don't think that you should. Not unless Rafael's there with you. Or me. Or — Michael.” Jane chokes a little on the name. “It just, we don't know what his reaction will be when he sees you. I don't want him to hurt you,” she shifts again, rolling on her side to face Petra's back. “What are you thinking?”
“That I'm very tired,” Petra says as softly as she can manage. Based on Jane's sigh and the way the bed shifts again, it doesn't come out as soft as she tries for.
Jane isn’t an antisocial creature by nature in the way that Petra is; her instinct is to share, to chat. To find common ground. To hash out a plan together. And she’s floundering under Petra's imposed silence. Petra knows that she has to try and meet Jane halfway. She did a huge thing for her. Something that she absolutely did not have to do. And Petra is grateful. Grateful in a way that she cannot express or fully understand. She's grateful, but her guard is still up. They have a plan now. Petra is safe for now. But, Jane's family isn't going to remain silent in their anger and distrust forever. Jane isn't going to forget that she loves and wants to be with Michael. No matter how angry she is with him right now. Rafael definitely isn't going to just stand by and let Petra be married to Jane without a fuss. Milos is never going to stop. Never going to let her go. Not without taking something in return.
“Oh, that's — sorry,” Jane whispers. “That's fine. We can figure it out in the morning.” A hand comes up and (very softly) rests on Petra's back. No one has touched her this gently in years. Maybe ever. “It's going to be okay, Petra. I mean, it's definitely going to be weird,” she laughs. “But we'll figure it out.” The hand disappears. Petra hates herself for aching for it. “Goodnight, Petra.”
“Goodnight,” she manages to whisper back. Jane shifts again, rolling away from Petra and settling in for sleep. Petra gripes the blanket tightly near her chin and closes her eyes. The mood ring presses against her cheek. She can't make out the color in the dark.
Jane is on her side for now. But Petra knows better than to make any place a home, any person; there is no home to go to, only running and running until you fall down.