Motion (Sequel to "Collide")

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

We safely arrived at the hotel that was right in the heart of London around five in the afternoon. As we figured, being back to the city where Michael and I got engaged was bittersweet, because it was also the day where we were separated for seven months.

Naturally, Michael chose a different hotel from the last one where it all happened. We weren't superstitious, but we wouldn't take our chances as well. Instead, we stayed at The Dorchester hotel that bordered Hyde Park. It was slightly more secluded, as it was surrounded by vegetation, which was perfect for us.

Faraji was thrilled to finally see the river Thames, which amused us a lot. Michael took the time to explain to him that this river is where my nickname Brit originated from, that the river wasn't actually named after me, but that we happened to have the same name, and he then proceeded in explaining why I changed my last name to Jackson. He was patient with our son's questions, and ever so considerate. Listening to them on our way from the airport to the hotel was the best entertainment I could have asked for.

The first thing we did when we stepped in our room was to put Faraji to bed, as he fell asleep just a few minutes before we arrived at the hotel. As we still had time before Prince's show, Michael and I used that time to take a shower and relax for a bit before we headed to Wembley Stadium.

I took a final look at myself in the floor length mirror before I stepped out of our bedroom and joined Michael in the large living room. He was patiently waiting for me on one of the couches, reading the daily Times newspaper attentively.

"All set," I announced, as Michael hummed with a nod, briefly looking at me before he returned to his newspaper. However, he looked right back at me almost instantly, blinking a few times. "What is it?" I asked, suddenly feeling observed. "Michael, what is it?" I pressed, as he stayed mute, just looking at me. "Oh God, am I underdressed? Plus, I knew I was too old to pull off that look!"

"What?" he asked with a shake of his head, slowly leaving the trance he seemed to be in. "Under—Too old? No, n—no, jeez. It's just... Wow," he said, almost whispering the last part.

I was wearing a black fitted jean mini skirt in which I tucked my old Purple Rain t-shirt, with a pair of Doc Martens leather boots. I added a thick silver chain necklace around my neck to finish my look, as well as one of Michael's oversized black leather bomber jackets on my shoulders, just in case I felt a little chilly after the concert. My hair was down and wavy, and my eyes were covered with a hint of purple eye shadow and eyeliner. Nothing too fancy, but it clearly drew my husband's attention.

"Baby seriously. Should I go change?"

Michael didn't answer as he set the newspaper aside and stood up from the couch to walk up to me. His eyes never left me, and I felt oddly shy under his stare. When he reached me, he put his arms around me, and his hands rested on the small of my back. He pulled me closer to him, his eyes scrutinizing my features with unrelenting intensity.

"Have I ever told you just how gorgeous you are?" he asked in a soft voice, running the tip of his index finger on my lips.

"You mentioned that a few times," I answered with a giggle, resting my hands on his hips. "I take that I don't have to change, huh?"

"Certainly not," he clarified, as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "You look amazing. I'd say you look perfect, but you know... You're wearing a t-shirt with the face of my biggest rival on it."

"Oh my God, I have to start wearing this t-shirt in public to mess with the tabloids. Can you picture the headlines?" I asked Michael, in-between laughs. "BETRAYAL: Jackson And Doctor Wife Heading For Divorce or Menage-A-Trois?"