Part of her felt guilty. Using her own son as a ploy to get dates left her with plenty of room for guilt. But he loved it. In fact, it was his idea.
Emma Swan sat at her small, two seater dinner table, mindlessly shuffling some paperwork while her son sat in his room hunched over some homework. She got up, following suit with every evening in the Swan household, and walked into the boy's bedroom.
"Hey kid, how's the homework coming?"
"Almost done, Ma." He muttered through the pen cap stuck between his lips.
She sat on the edge the twin bed that occupied most of the boy's small bedroom and fiddled with the comic books strewn across the dark blue sheets.
"Ma?" Henry said as the pen cap fell from his lips to the floor.
"Yeah buddy?"
"You need to go out."
"What makes you say that?" Emma asked, surprised at the boy's blunt suggestion.
"Ruby and Lacey always come over here, but you never go anywhere. I'm old enough to stay home by myself." He said with hope in his eyes.
Emma stared at her son, amazed at how grown up he looked. Despite what he thought, Emma knew she would never leave the boy home alone. They didn't live in the best neighborhood, but Henry didn't know just how bad it really was. There was no need to scare the kid. She knew she could take care of him.
"I'll make you a deal. I'll go out tomorrow night, as long as you come with me." She knew Henry couldn't resist the possibility of a peanut butter chocolate milkshake, which he received on almost every outing he took with his mother.
"Ok, but on one condition." He said through a sheepish grin.
"You name it." She replied.
"I get to find you a date."
What had started as a game had turned into a full scale operation on Henry's part. And he insisted on giving this operation a codename, as he did with almost everything the two did together. This particular operation had been deemed "Operation Strike".
It had been 10 days since the boy's last attempt at setting his mother up. The first two didn't make it past a phone call, while the third failed miserably after a disastrous dinner date. Emma had never been very good at relationships and she found it near impossible for anyone other than Henry to hold her attention for more than a few minutes. Her relationship with her son was the only one that really mattered.
Since the last "date", if she could even call it that, Emma had asked Henry to cool it with Operation Strike. If she was being completely honest, all she was interested in was time with her son. However he insisted on continuing with the matchmaking adventures.
4 days later she sauntered through Central Park with her arm draped across Henry's bony shoulders. They had spent the afternoon going to his favorite spots around the city, the most recent being the soccer field to break in the new ball she bought him. Once Emma's legs felt like jelly and her jacket was thoroughly soaked with sweat, she told Henry it was time to head home. He bounded across the field, seemingly unfazed by the past 2 hours of nonstop play, and asked if they could walk home instead of taking a cab. Of course, Emma said yes. She could never resist those green puppy dog eyes that so closely resembled her own.
When they reached the edge of the park, Henry frantically tugged on his mother's red leather jacket in what seemed like a panic.
"Momma! Momma!" Henry shrieked, pulling furiously at her arm. She was sure he would rip the sleeve off if he pulled any harder. He was surprisingly strong for his small, bony physique.
"Whoa, slow down kid. What is it?" She asked coolly, attempting to pry the tiny fingers from around her arm.
"HER." He said with wonder.
Emma followed the boy's gaze, trying to find the "her" to which he was referring.
Her jaw dropped when her eyes locked onto the tight grey dress hugging the drop dead gorgeous stranger's toned curves. She looked like someone straight out of a movie. Her eyes raked up the woman's body, stopping at the plump red lips, which were easily spotted despite the darkness falling over the street. It wasn't until she felt tiny hands loosen from around her arm that she closed her gaping mouth and pulled her eyes away.
Before she could stop him, Emma saw the soccer ball leave the boy's hands and sail straight towards the unwitting brunette. .
"Henry!" Emma yelled. But it was too late. His scheming little brain had already put his plan into motion. He waited a few seconds and then took off running towards the stranger and his ball. Her stomach dropped as she watched the ball hit the woman square in the chest.
She took off after her son, unable to hear his first words exchanged with the stranger once he retrieved his ball. Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him to her side.
"I am so sorry about that.." Emma stammered, unable to meet the woman's eyes. For some reason she felt uneasy standing in the woman's presence and no matter how hard she tried, her hands couldn't seem to stop shaking.
"It's quite alright." The woman laughed. Her voice immediately made Emma's stomach turn to mush. She felt like a little kid in the presence of her first crush.
"My son doesn't seem to know his own strength." Emma said as she shot a glare down to the boy, who simply beamed right back up at her.
"It's alright, dear, children will be children. I'm tougher than I look." The woman said with confidence that seemed to seep from her very pores; Emma was sure she could get out of any situation with just a look. One could get lost in those deep brown eyes of hers. And those lips...
"My name is Henry!" The boy almost shouted, snatching Emma from her thoughts. "And this is my mom, Emma."
"Hello," The woman said with a soft smile. "my name is Regina. Regina Mills."