For lala-kate.
Dear Laura, it is I, your valentine. Sorry for the delay in getting you your gift. You are a fantastic person and I feel very lucky to be able to give you a little something. Hope you like it!
When the same song plays on the radio for the third time since they've entered the grocery store, Regina thinks it may be time to speed up the process. They've got other errands on their agenda for today and she'd rather not have to come home past dinnertime.
She's been spending too little time at home these days. Henry has yet to complain; it means he spends more time playing video games with Ruby, but she feels like she's neglecting her son — neglecting her time with her son — and she's determined to have time to play board games, watch a movie or read with him tonight. Whatever he decides to do, she'll do with him, and if she gives in to the unhealthy cookies Henry has been trying to coax her into buying for the last five minutes, a smile gracing her lips as he proclaims victory, she tells herself it's all part of the plan to get home early and get in some much needed mother-son bonding time.
While he sprints off excitedly to aisle five, she reaches for her usual sugar-free granola and checks her grocery list one last time, scratching off the item she just dropped in her cart.
Satisfied with her today's haul, she walks to the front of the store, frowning at the long lineups behind each cash register. She studies each one of them carefully before opting to wait behind Granny Lucas and another man and his son.
The old lady never buys much at once, having to lug all of her purchases back on foot. She lost her driver's license years ago despite her claims that her vision was on par with that of a wolf. Her eye exam had proven otherwise. The man behind her has a full cart, but Granny is almost done and it's only one more person, a choice that a quick glance left and right confirms is her best option.
It's right in front of aisle five, from which Henry skips to her with a box of decadent chocolate cookies in hand, starting to talk up the merits of cocoa as though she hadn't already agreed to the treat — she'll probably indulge in one or two herself when they get home — when suddenly she catches sight of the profile of the (until now) nameless man in front of her and air leaves her lungs in one fell swoop.
Grey hair may adorn his temples and dot his stubble, but there is no mistaking who he is. She watches his biceps flex as he empties the contents of his cart on the conveyor belt, belly clenching with trepidation. Her gaze travels down his arm to his hands, large and comforting — dexterous, too, she remembers — as they chased her fears with reassuring touches and comforted her through anxiety attacks. His shoulders are just as square and strong as she remembers. He used to lift weights way heavier than her. (She wonders if he still does.)
For many years, he'd had her back, had convinced her she did not have to tackle the world alone, had even promised she wouldn't have to.
The heat of her gaze must burn where it makes contact with his skin — she can't look away, is mesmerized by this man she never thought she'd see again — because he looks up, and his eyes, the purest of blues, an ocean overflowing with life, meet hers over their carts.
She can see in them the same turmoil of emotions she's been experiencing. Snippets of the past fifteen years laid out around them, in their carts, on their clothes, in the greying hair and in the sons standing next to them.
They've missed out on so much.
Robin.
His eyes have not changed at all. Their blue is as hypnotizing now as it was when she'd said I do and for a second, a very brief second, she forgets they're standing in line at the cash register of a supermarket. For an instant, she's wearing white again. A tight bodice wraps around her ribcage and lace covers her arms. He's wearing black. His hands pull nervously at the cuffs of his tux. For a second, they're just a man and a woman, with two beautiful sons who were not a part of the picture last time they stood like this, looking at each other as though the world has unraveled at their feet and the person in front of them is the salvation they've been looking for.
Her hand in his, the weight of an extra ring on her finger, his gaze caressing every inch of her face, partially hidden by a veil. She would gratefully have lost herself in his eyes then. Their blue was calm; it was safety.
It was home. (He was home.)
And now, they're standing there, down aisle five, looking at each other for the first time in too many years, speechless, until a little mop of brown hair pops in-between them.
"She's pretty, Daddy."
Regina blushes and looks down at her cart, avoiding the intensity of Robin's gaze and the curious look of his son. She glances back at her own boy, who's observing the exchange between his mother and the stranger in front of them in silence, intrigued, studying the two adults with more interest than she'd like. She'll owe him an explanation later tonight.
If she survives this meeting.
"This is Regina," Robin says to his boy, and although his voice is not as deep as she remembers as he speaks to his son, it still stirs up the same tingling feeling in her stomach.
She loved his voice — every whisper, every promise, every declaration of love. He had a way with words, only saying the important ones, otherwise staying silent, making every interaction count.
She's no other choice but to look up at the mention of her name, mustering the necessary courage to extend a hand towards the little boy looking at her with big brown eyes. "Your daddy is right. I'm Regina. What's your name, young man?" She says all of this without inhaling once, leaving her to taking in a lungful of air as the little boy shakes her hand.
"I'm Roland!" He beams at her as he says his name, full of pride and excitement.
The boy doesn't look much like his dad, but his dimples, his attitude, his fearlessness in the face of a stranger — which she is to him; the boy has no idea of the history that hangs between his father and herself — that's all Robin. Fifteen years have dulled the pain, and her thoughts, once clouded by anger and regret, have cleared now. She knows Robin was — is — a good man.
"Nice to meet you, Roland," Regina says, offering the young man a smile. She looks up to Robin next, intent on greeting him too, but words stick in her throat as she tries to come up with the right thing to say.
What do you say to your ex of fifteen years?
"This is Henry." She nudges her son forward without much of a warning, but he politely shakes both Robin and Roland's hands without fussing, even going as far as asking Roland how old he is and starting the small talk she'd failed to.
The whole scene seems surreal. It belongs to another time, over right as it started, or an alternate universe, if such things exists.
A marriage gone up in flames, telltale of their explosive personalities.
The cashier behind Robin sighs impatiently, bringing them all back to the present and the fact that they're just standing at the cash register of a grocery store, staring at her each other and their sons like two idiots and blocking the line for everyone else who just wants to be done with their groceries and get on with their evening.
Apologies leave Robin lips as he turns to pay and pick up his bags. Henry and Roland are still wrapped up in their conversation, which has moved on to video games, and Robin takes the opportunity to linger, packing the bags Regina hands him as the lady — her name is Elsa, according to her name tag — scans her articles.
It gives them a few more minutes to digest this meeting. Too few minutes to think about fifteen years and all the things that have changed since they last saw each other.
They've got children now, the two of them.
They had children without each other, a thought that was once inconceivable and yet, that seems to make Regina all the more aware of the things they've missed.
She does not regret raising Henry alone — she never will — but having that extra pair of hands, like one that can pack up grocery bags while she pays, would have been nice.
Having a shoulder to cry on would have been nice, too.
Perhaps the years have softened her, or perhaps her heart is more full now with Henry in her life, but she swears Robin smiles when their eyes cross paths again as he sets the last of her bags in her cart. They've yet to address each other directly and yet she feels more in sync with him now than she did during the one year they were married.
They're leaving the store when she finally finds her voice again.
"Robin."
The name feels equal pats foreign and familiar as it rolls off her tongue.
He stops walking and turns around, his eyes travelling up and down her body, observing her in much the same way she'd studied him.
She's stayed in shape over the years, has been dying her greys although she probably has just as many as he does. She looks far from twenty, but from the way he licks his lips before bringing his gaze back to hers, it's not something she should be worried about.
"Regina," he returns her greeting, and adds, "You look well."
"So do you," she answers, and it's easier than she thought. She's breathing again, doesn't feel like the earth is about to give out under her feet.
There's so much she wants to say, so much she wants to ask. Where does one even begin? But Roland is starting to show signs of fatigue, and the conversations they need to have are better held away from the prying ears of children, so she settles for, "I'm sorry."
Robin takes a step forward, as though he means to say more, but holds himself back. "I'm sorry, too."
She offers him a knowing smile and a small nod, accepting his apology. He returns it with one of his own.
They were different people then. They are different people now. She doesn't know what this all means, meeting him again, walking down the aisle at the supermarket to find him waiting for her at the end. Is this some silly twist of fate or a second chance to find something she thought was lost?
Only time will tell.
Many thanks to Lisa for all her patience with me and for getting me through this.