I'm sorry I went all of Sunday without updating! I had a chapter written, then I decided to rework things because I've been wanting to write something from Regina's perspective. This seemed like the perfect place. I took some, *ahem,* liberties with characters (AKA: Zelena is now Zeleno). You'll see why as you read. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. There's a ton of plot and character development, so stay tuned for more!
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Chapter 10:
Regina parked her 560SL next to the five-car garage at Mills Manor. Her black Benz took up a fraction of the driveway, which was large enough for her parents' yacht to winter on and their RV to slumber beside it.
"Henry," she called as her son scrambled out of the backseat, "don't forget your—"
"Jacket," she finished when the door slammed on her last word.
She watched him scamper up to the mansion's front door, more comfortable in her childhood home than she would ever be. Sighing, Regina lifted the salad and spring rolls she'd brought for the evening. She could still hear her mother's raspy voice on the phone, berating her for missing family dinners since the semester started.
I won't take no for an answer, Cora insisted.
Regina knew better than to argue when her mother took that tone. She cancelled her plans with Emma with a heavy heart and showed up at the place she'd been avoiding.
The manor had already swallowed her son when she pressed the doorbell.
Cora Mills answered the buzzer, her salt and pepper hair—more pepper than salt—swept up in a neat bun, her lipstick immaculate, and her pearls shimmering in the light of the foyer.
"Really, Regina?" her mother said by way of greeting. "You're wearing jeans? It's not even the weekend, dear."
She glanced down past the trays she held at the dark denim that clad her legs, its surface soft from countless washes.
"I apologize, Mother. It's hard to cook in a dress and six-inch heels."
"And yet I manage it everyday," Cora muttered as she opened the door wider to admit her daughter. "Well, come in before the food grows cold."
They passed through the grand foyer and turned into the formal dining area where the Mills family could seat a small army at their ancient cherry oak table. Cora had set four places at one end of the table, the good silver sparking under the chandelier that lit the room.
"Take your dishes to the kitchen, dear. We'll plate everything in there for the gentlemen."
Regina half-hated, half-adored the way her mother's voice softened when she spoke of Henry Sr. and her son. Why, she wondered, hadn't even an ounce of that affection ever made its way into her lonely childhood?
She helped Cora dish out pork cutlets marinated in marmalade, vegetables seared in pig fat, and red-skinned baby potatoes, their flesh soaked in garlic and butter.
"None for me," she said, holding her hand over her plate when Cora attempted to lay down a cutlet.
"You're still on your anti-meat fad? Regina, you're too thin. You need some hardy fare in your diet."
"It's not a fad. I've been vegan for more than 10 years now."
She examined her mother from the corner of her eye as Cora added a homemade dressing to the salad she brought. She was too fat. She was too thin. If a perfect number for her weight existed, it would probably look like a wingding.
When the food was ready, Regina took her helping of spring rolls, salad, and fruit medley into the dining room, holding her son's heaping plate in her other hand. It weighed twice as much as hers did, she noted with a grimace.
Maybe I would eat more, Mother, if you cared enough to prepare anything that fit my dietary restrictions.
"Henry," she called into the echoing foyer, "Daddy, time to eat."
Her father and son appeared moments later, grinning their way to their seats. Her heart swelled with love as she handed Henry Jr. his food. Unable to stop herself, she dropped a kiss on his bedhead.
"Mom," he complained, gently pushing her away, but he smiled wider none-the-less. Seeing him here reminded her that he had been worth all the pain she'd endured to bring him to life. He would always be her angel, her saving grace, her only reason to stay connected to her mother.
She kissed her father on his wrinkled cheek as well, breathing in the heady oak and peppermint scent of his tobacco. She found safety in that smell. She could remember him holding her when she was small, smoking in front of the fire, so many times after Mother made her cry.
What would I do without him?
When Cora arrived, Henry Sr. said a prayer, and the family began to eat, the sound of silver clacking on china. Her father and mother entertained Henry Jr. with questions about his classes and tennis practice, while Regina drifted off into her own world as they conversed.
She wondered what Emma would think if she saw her in these jeans. Would she like the way this old denim pair hugged her behind? Warmth flared between her legs at the thought of Emma's hand squeezing her ass in the grocery store.
God, what she wouldn't give to be with the blonde right now, touching, exploring, tasting Emma again.
She must have made a noise because all eyes at the table focused on her.
"Are you all right, dear?" Cora asked. "Your cheeks are flushed."
"Fine," she managed, doing her best to tamp down the desirous beast that roared within her.
"Perhaps a hot toddy?" her father said. "That'll kill a cold if you have one brewing."
"Please," she replied. "I'll help you."
She followed Henry Sr. to the kitchen where he boiled water to add to their whiskey.
"I was feeling a bit peaky, too," he told her with a wink. "It's your mother's pork. I've told her a hundred times I can't stomach such fatty meat anymore, but she pays me no mind."
"You and me both," she murmured as she pressed cloves into lemon slices.
"Tell me what's going on, princess," he said. "I haven't seen you so distracted for a good bit now."
"I had plans tonight," she admitted.
"With a man?"
Her blush deepened. "Well…yes."
She bit down on the truth because she knew as much as her father loved her, there were some things their family simply did not acknowledge, not even now that she was in her thirties.
"You must really be fond of him," her father said.
"You can tell?"
He nodded.
She stared down at the hot drink in her hand. She was so fond of Emma it was embarrassing. The blonde infiltrated her every thought ever since she'd fallen into Regina's office. And that first kiss…
She shivered, despite the warm liquid she clutched. She'd not expected Emma to receive her so readily, to respond so well, or to be so skilled with her fingers and tongue. She could only imagine the extent of the blonde's skills, and imagine she did in her baths, her king-sized bed, and behind her closed office door.
"Princess?" her father said.
She jerked back into reality, wishing the burning between her thighs would leave her alone.
"Perhaps we can keep Henry one day this weekend, and you can spend time with your male friend," her father suggested. "Will that make it up to you?"
She thought of her phone in her pocket and how silent it had been since she'd cancelled on the blonde. She could only hope Emma would give her a chance to explain.
"Yes, that might work," she said. "I will be sure to keep you updated."
The liquor ate through her sharp edges as they returned to the table and finished eating. She made it through her mother's comments on the lines forming around her mouth and the one-sided discussion about the Board's decision to cut at will teachers it determined unfit. When Cora dragged Henry Jr. into the kitchen to wash the dishes, she couldn't have been more relieved.
"Will you have a cigar with me?" her father asked.
She chuckled, nodded, and followed him out of the dining room, down the hall, and into his den. Henry Sr. settled her on one of the brown leather couches. He turned on the gas fireplace and tennis on the TV above, and scuffled about in his humidor.
She languished in the heat, unbuttoning the top two clasps on her blouse, leaning her long neck back as she downed the rest of her toddy.
"Cuban?" her father asked as he snipped the tips. "Tonight feels like a celebration."
She accepted the fat roll of tobacco, smelling its heady scent, before she lit it between her lips. She breathed the smoke into her mouth, holding the flavor in deep before releasing it. Her father puffed beside her, his gaze glued to the tennis match. She tenderly studied the map of wrinkles pressed into his profile.
As the liquor and smoke took over her body, her eyes shifted to the family picture that hung on the wall behind him. The smiling faces of her mother, her father, her much younger self, and her brother belied what had happened to them.
Zeleno.
The cracked vase of her heart fractured further as she stared at the boy who could have been her son, if Zeleno's hair and eyes were not quite so dark.
The memory engulfed her without waiting to see if she was ready.
She remembered tiptoeing out of the room she shared with her brother where his twin bed lay empty. As she nudged open the door to her parents' bedroom, she saw her mother seated on the bench at the end of the bed, her shoulders shaking. A much younger Henry Sr. held his wife.
"It's all right," he mumbled against her messy hair. "It'll be all right, Cora."
Her mother's voice held venom as she spoke. "It won't, Henry. How can you say that?"
"We still have Regina," her father responded. Despite his wife's anger, he was gentle, soft, as in love with her as the day they met.
"If God had to take one of them," Cora cried, "why couldn't it have been the girl? Why would He take my little boy from me?"
"We can always try again."
Cora pushed her husband away. "You know what the doctor said. We can't. She's all that's left. The Mills legacy is dead. I've failed you as a wife."
Regina recalled backing out of the light. In the cold hallway, she finally understood what they meant when they told her angels had taken Zeleno. He would not be back. The bed beside her would always be empty. And her mother would always wish that Regina were dead instead of him.
"Henry has a match coming up, doesn't he?" her father said, interrupting her rumination.
"He does."
"Has he been working on his backswing?"
She thought about the practices her son had missed since Emma took over the literary magazine. "It's coming along."
Her father stubbed out his cigar. "I know he's still young, but no scout will pick him up if his backswing stays where it is. What do you think about hiring a coach to work with him on the weekends?"
A terrible idea, Regina thought. He'll only grow to hate it more.
But she smiled. "Perhaps."
"You just give me the go, and I'll write the check."
The brunette made a noncommittal noise before scooting to the edge of the couch. "Thank you for the company, Daddy. I should be getting home."
He followed her out of the din and up the spiral staircase to the room Henry stayed in when he spent the night. Cora sat with Henry on his bed, wearing glasses low on her nose and reading, while he wrote in a notebook.
"Doing homework?" she asked him as she rounded the mattress to stand beside him.
"Working on my story," he told her.
Her heart quivered in her chest. She saw the passion for words in his eyes. He loved writing enough to jeopardize the pieces of the Mills legacy that still remained—the legacy that he had a duty to save.
My poor, sweet son. You don't yet understand your terrible burden.
She held her arms out, and he fell into her hug.
"I love you, Henry," she whispered.
"Love you, too, Mom," he mumbled against her shirt. "See you at school tomorrow."
She let him go, missing his warmth, then crossed back to where her father watched the scene from the door.
"Don't forget your dishes, dear," her mother called after her.
She nodded, embraced her father, then left the three of them in the dimly lit bedroom that hummed with Henry's youth. She doubted she would sleep well without him near. She never did.
The ride back into town took twenty minutes. Inside her empty house, she slipped out of her jacket and shoes and climbed the steps to her bedroom. She pulled her phone from her pocket before she undressed, checking for a text from Emma.
Her heart soared when she saw a message waiting from the blonde.
No worries. Hope everything is okay.
She couldn't type back fast enough.
Thank you for being so understanding, Emma. Let me take you out on a proper date this weekend to make up for my cancellation. I do hope you're still interested.
She stared at the phone for several seconds, hoping for a quick reply, but it sat silent in her palm. At last, she gave up and plugged it in near her bed.
She stripped to nothing, enjoying the one luxury that having Henry away afforded her. The Egyptian cotton sheets soothed her bare skin but did nothing to chase out the loneliness that crept into the dark room.
Emma.
Her mind was insatiable. She could feel the blonde's body pressed into hers, could almost count the rapid beats of the substitute teacher's heart as their lips found one another.
She groaned, tossing under her covers, refusing the slake the ache between her legs. She checked her phone for a new message. Nothing.
Does she hate me? I don't even know how to show her the way that I feel.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd been out on a real date. Spending a few sweaty hours in a luxury hotel with a girl whose name she would forget with a hangover didn't count. Did she even remember how to date anymore? Could she imagine herself as Emma's…girlfriend?
What about my family? And the school? No one would understand.
Sleep failed her, so she rose again and padded to Henry's bedroom. She felt through the darkness to retrieve one of the stuffed animals forgotten in the back of his closet. She carried a large bear back to her room, curled around it, and drifted off, wishing the bear was Emma and that Henry still slept with stuffed animals in the room beside them.
XX
I hope that the image of Regina with her shirt unbuttoned and a cigar in her perfect mouth didn't offend anyone. Characters do what they want to do. I just write their adventures down. Anyway, I thought it was beyond hot. New chapter up soon, so don't go anywhere!