She sat still in her chair in the waiting room. Her hands were clasped together in her lap as she smiled at the nurses and orderlies who walked past her.
A lock of gray hair fell into her face and she pushed it back, not wanting it to obstruct her view of her surroundings.
"Mrs. Jones?" A voice called to her and she looked up to see a young orderly smiling at her warmly. "You can see him now."
She smiled back at him and gathered her things, a purse and a tin of cookies. "Please, what do I tell you every day? Call me Emma," she replied as she got up from her seat and shuffled toward the door that he was holding open for her.
"Sure thing, Emma," he said with a smile, following her into the plain white hallway behind the door. "Sorry about the wait today."
Emma hummed to herself as she followed behind the young man. She was used to the waiting. And the feeling of dread that came along with it. But this was her life now.
Ever since Killian was moved out of their house and into this home, she'd visited him every day. She promised him that not a day would go by that she'd not think of him, and this was how she kept her promise.
When they finally made it to Killian's room, the man held the door open for her and she nodded her thanks to him as she shuffled into the small room.
The windows were open today, and Killian was seated at the table, looking out of his window at his view of the harbour.
Emma cleared her throat to make her presence known, and Killian turned his head toward the sound and knitted his brow slightly at the sight of her. After a moment, his confusion gave way to flirtation and he flashed her that same debonair smile that hadn't changed since they met all those years ago.
His hair was now as light as hers, and his beard was just as full as always, only now it was as white as snow. His blue eyes had grown brighter over the years, and they were still as inviting as ever as they peered at her over the rim of his glasses. "Afternoon, lass. Are you here to see me?"
Emma nodded as she set her things down on the table, taking the seat across from his. "Yes, actually. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind some company today. I was in the neighbourhood and figured I ought to stop by."
Killian's smile grew wider as he looked her over, and Emma's heart clenched painfully at the memories that overwhelmed her.
"I suppose I wouldn't mind." He tipped his head in the direction of her things and quirked an eyebrow upward, "What have you got in that tin?"
Emma smiled and opened it before sliding it closer to him. "Just some cookies I made. You can have one, if you'd like."
He reached for the tin and took out one of the cookies, looking it over quickly before biting into it with gusto. "So, tell me, lass, what is your name?"
She smiled and pushed the tin off to the side, however making sure to leave it within his reach. "My name is Emma. And I know that yours is Killian."
He nodded, and she wondered if he could even understand what she was telling him.
"Emma," he repeated her name as he looked into her eyes as if he were studying her, "what a beautiful name. That would make sense, though: a beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
She didn't know how he does it, but even when he's not trying, even after all these years he can still manage to set off butterflies in her stomach.
"Do you want to tell me anything about yourself, Killian?" She asked, wanting to know what he would tell her today.
"No, I don't think so," he sighed, the corners of his mouth turning downward as if he were deep in thought. "I like the sea," he whispered after a few moments, as if he weren't really sure.
"I like the sea." He repeated himself with confidence and turned his gaze back to the window. "I must like it, or I don't know why they'd have me looking at it every day." He laughed at his own joke, and Emma had to fight to keep a smile on her face as she looked at her pirate and tried to remember him as he was.
"Do you want to know anything about me?" She asked, eager to change the subject to something she could handle.
"I want to know everything that you're willing to tell me, love." He answered her with a wink.
She smiled and nodded politely before pulling out her wallet. She pulled out some photos and laid them flat on the table.
There were many smiling faces looking up at them from the pictures, and Emma pointed to one and waited for Killian's gaze to follow her finger, letting him know where she would be starting.
Killian eyed the photo. In it, there was a man about middle age, with a woman and two teenagers at his sides. The man looked like he was happy and his children's smiling faces made Killian smile to himself.
"This is my son, Henry," Emma started, pulling Killian out of his reverie and drawing his eyes back to her. "And in the photo with him are his wife, Grace, and their two children—well, I suppose they aren't children anymore, Bonnie and Jake."
"I like those names," Killian smiled as he looked at the picture again, his eyes searching it as if he hoped to learn something from its image.
"Okay, on to the next one," Emma pointed to a new photo and Killian's eyes followed her finger immediately as it landed on a photo of another man. This man looked younger than the first, and he had blue eyes that seemed to remind Killian of someone he knew. This man also had a wife and two children, who didn't look as though either of them were older than thirteen.
"This is my other son, Liam. He—"
"Liam?" Killian asked as he looked at Emma, his eyebrows knitted together in thought.
Her heart leapt as she looked at his face, hoping that maybe the mention of their son had caused a memory to free itself within his mind. "Yes," she answered him breathlessly, "his name is Liam."
Killian smiled and looked at the photo again. "I always thought that was a strong name. I think I had a friend with that name once."
Emma smiled tightly and moved her gaze back to the picture. "Well, this is his family. His wife's name is Jessica, and he has two sons, Killian and David."
"Oh," Killian smiled wide at this new information, "his son has the same name as I do. I never really liked my name, though."
She blinked away the tears that threatened to fall and moved on to the last photo. It was an old one, one that she never left the house without. Not anymore, at least.
As she slid it across the table to him, he looked at it before picking it up and holding it in front of his face. He knitted his brow and adjusted his glasses as he stared at the picture in his hand.
"I rather like this one. I think it's my favourite," he finally said, looking to Emma with a bright gleam in his eye. "This woman is quite beautiful. And her husband looks like a strapping young gent."
He handed the photo back to Emma and she was almost tempted to tell him that that was a snapshot of them, captured on their wedding day all those years ago. But she didn't want to upset him, so she took it back and nodded as she gathered the photos up and slid them back into her wallet.
"I was going to ask you if you wanted to get some coffee, but I noticed you're wearing a wedding ring," he said to her, and she looked down at the tattered ring on her finger with a faint smile.
"I am," She affirmed, her eyes moving to look at the band on his right ring finger. "It matches yours. Does that tell you anything?"
Killian looked at the ring on his finger as if he were noticing it for the first time. He stared at it for another brief moment before he shrugged, looking at her with a smile that was surprisingly boyish, considering his age. "It tells me that our spouses have great taste."
Emma smiled at him and nodded. She squeezed his hand before getting up from the table and gathering her things.
"Are you leaving already?" He asked her, a faint frown marring his forehead as she stood from her chair.
"Yes, dear," she nearly whispered as she walked around the table and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "But I'll be back to see you very soon."
Killian's smile returned, although it wasn't as big as before, and he nodded in understanding. "Until next time, then."
She backed away from him and had nearly crossed the threshold when he called to her.
"What did you say that your name was, darling?"
She looked at him and saw the hope reflecting in his blue eyes as she felt her lower lip begin to tremble. "Emma," she answered him with as much confidence as she could muster. "My name is Emma."
Emma turned away from him and shuffled out of his room as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away with a wrinkled hand and walked back out into the waiting room.
She was greeted by the secretaries at the front desk who all smiled at her as she passed them. "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Jones." One of the ladies called out to her as she passed.
"Yes, dear," Emma smiled at her before walking toward the exit, "see you tomorrow."