Hello, and once again I have to express my gratitude for all of your feedback for this story. I'm lucky to have found such a great group of readers!
Here is the next update, which I'd hoped to have up a few days ago. Unfortunately, I struggled with this chapter a bit because it's a turning point for our lovely couple. I got them into a mess, and it was time to get them out of it. But at the same time there is still a little more to come, so it's kind of transitioning them to a new point in their relationship. It was hard to know where this chapter started & ended, because it will flow right into the next one. Anyways, I won't give away too much more.
This overall story will probably wrap up in around 2-3 more chapters.
I hope you enjoy.
"You're not happy, mom," Henry said one morning on their walk to school. Henry's summer program would be ending soon. It was nearly July, and the air had turned hot, and heavy. It was time, Regina knew, for him to have a break from the coursework, the homework, the endless French lessons on conjugation, vocabulary, sentence structure. He needed to be a kid again.
"What makes you say that?" Regina asked, raising her eyebrows as she took a sip from her grande iced Americano (it felt too hot outside for her usual hot cafe au lait. The atmosphere was muggy, sticky, the city air thick with an early summer heaviness).
Her son shrugged, the early morning sun catching the golden highlights in his hair. "You don't talk to me as much while we're walking to school."
"I'm not unhappy. Just a little stressed about some work things."
"Maybe you should see Robin. He could take us somewhere and see something new."
"Henry… I don't know. It was nice getting to know Robin, but I am not sure he is right for our lives right now."
"What if I think he is?"
"Well, then I'd say I'm the adult, and I make the decisions," Regina replied cooly.
"You weren't like that a few weeks ago," Henry grumbled. "You used to be nicer when you were still friends with him."
"Henry, have a good day at school," Regina said sharply, relieved that they'd nearly arrived at the school.
Henry at least let go of the topic quickly, then gave her an unenthusiastic half-hug goodbye (he didn't want to be spotted by any of his classmates getting walked to school by his mom) before trotting the rest of the way to the entrance to the school. She waved even though he didn't glance back at her, then she lingered as he walked through the small gate that led into a small, green garden, with shrubs and purple and pink flowers in full, fragrant bloom. The morning light filtering between the buildings into the garden caught the tiny flecks of pollen floating in the air, and she stared a moment before blinking and turning to walk back home.
She was relieved that she didn't have to dwell on the topic of Robin with Henry (she assumed he would move on quickly. Quicker than she would, at least). Regina hadn't spoken to Robin since lunch that day, and although she half-hoped he might text her sometime, he never did, clearly respecting her wish to be alone. It gave her a strange sort of feeling. She wondered if she'd made a mistake? She rolled the events of their lunch, the conversation, her meetings with Marion, over and over in her mind.
But she didn't do anything about it.
..•..
If her romantic life had crashed and burned, the exact opposite had happened to her professional life. Her "Saturday Mornings in Paris" online series of blog articles was flourishing. Each post had more views and more shares on social media than the last.
That afternoon, while squinting at her computer screen and editing a piece by one of her writers, her phone buzzed. It was her editor, Viola, back in New York.
After a few brief pleasantries, Viola cut straight to the point, delivering some news with her crisp, clipped tone.
"Regina, I've discussed about the success of 'Saturday Mornings in Paris' with the editorial team here, and we have decided to start publishing expanded versions of those posts as articles in the magazine."
"It's going into the print edition?" Regina asked, jaw dropping slightly at the news.
"They're happy. Feel-good. Inspiring. What can I say, it seems to be what people want to read, so, yes, as I already said, we're putting them in print."
Regina thanked Viola and hung up the phone, humming with excitement. Minutes later, of course, it hit her that she was not actually falling in love in Paris. Not anymore, at least. She bitterly acknowledged the irony. Her love life fails, her column - which she supposed would have to be somewhat fictional from now on - succeeds. She doubted her rapidly-growing readership would appreciate a sudden change in topic to reflect her current relationship status.
Buzzing with excitement and a hint of nerves and frustration, Regina slipped on a pair of comfy shoes and decided to go for a walk. On her way out, she ran into Emma, who was bounding up the stairs, hauling not one but two leather laptop bags with her.
"Well well, it's our resident reclusive author - haven't seen you around!" Emma said.
"I was just thinking the same about you," Regina said primly, giving her an obligatory cheek-kiss in greeting.
"What's with you?" Emma said, pulling back, studying her face through narrow, scrutinizing eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"You seem down. Come, have a coffee with me."
"I have work."
"Please. You can spare a minute," Emma said, urging her into her apartment. Regina surrendered and followed her in to the sleek space, which was slightly tidier (only slightly) than the last time she'd been there, when Emma had been in the midst of exams.
"Your writing's pretty good," Emma said, moving towards the kitchen and firing up the cappuccino maker.
"You've read my work?"
"Might have. Had to finally look up what you spend all your time working on up there."
"I hope it was worth your time," Regina laughed lightly.
"Bien sûr. I even found it inspirational."
"What do you mean?"
Emma stepped out of the kitchen, holding two small cappuccinos, grabbing a jar of fig and almond biscotti from a local shop, and bringing everything over to the small sitting area. Regina was already perched on the cozy, well-worn tobacco-brown leather armchair that Emma had said she'd thrifted. (She still owed Regina a trip to the flea market where she said she found it).
"I've been seeing someone."
"Really?" Regina raised her eyebrows and took a delicate bite of the biscotti.
"Yup," Emma nodded, taking a hearty sip of her cappuccino. "Met him in one of my classes last semester. Of course, we're nothing serious… neither of us has any time, you know, to do much more than relax and hang out. But we have a few moments here and there to have a little fun," she said, grinning.
"Lucky you," Regina said, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smile.
"Aw, come on, you can't complain. You've got Robin."
"Or not," she sighed.
"What?" Emma said, jaw dropping. "but… you're still writing your column… don't tell me you broke up with him?"
"At least I am a very convincing writer. Yes, we broke it off. About two weeks ago."
"What happened?'
"He told me a bit about himself, how he did many irresponsible things when he was younger… hacked computers, went to jail, seemed to have a hard time patching his life back together after," she said, waving her hand around absently.
"Hmm. Okay, I didn't know all of that," Emma said, raising her eyebrows.
She seemed tempted to ask Regina more, but didn't.
"But that doesn't sound like the person he is now," Emma pointed out.
"I know. It's not. But it's just… the thought of it, you know? This guy who hid all of this… I don't want him around Henry. Henry was getting too attached to him, too dependent, even. It wasn't good," Regina said.
"Of course. Henry was getting too attached to him."
Regina glared at her. "What do you mean?" She asked cooly.
"You know what I mean," Emma chided. "Still, what about his past was so bad?"
Regina shrugged. "It's a long story, I guess. He did some stupid things when he was young, he felt excluded, ignored, the usual sort of thing that drives people to do stupid things when they're still kids."
"But he's different now." Emma said, repeating herself.
"Yes." Regina conceded.
"So. I don't doubt you had your reasons for pulling back. I'm just saying, maybe you should have trusted your first intuition about him: the one that prompted you to start seeing him."
Regina didn't reply.
"Tell me about your significant other," Regina asked Emma, hoping to change the subject.
"Not too much to say. I don't actually see him a lot."
"Oh. How… romantic?" Regina said.
"He's smart, has great conversation, a loyal type of person, which feels rare. A lot of guys who I have seen in the past have a wandering eye, want to move on to the next thing too soon," Emma said, smiling to herself. "He seems a little bit more stable. Works a lot, but likes to go home at the end of the day instead of to a club. We don't go on any grand dates, there's no time. We just spend time together."
"It's nice to share things with someone else," said Regina.
"Yeah. Exactly." Emma said. "There's something to be said for having someone else to share things with… happy times, but also, you know, burdens, challenges."
Regina nodded. "I know what you mean. Listen to this… as my love life crashes and burns, I found out that my online column thing based on some of my dating life with Robin has done so well they want to publish it in the magazine now, too."
"Oh, that's great," Emma said.
"It is. I guess there's something to be said for something working out. Even though I will have a bit of a shortage of personal experience to draw on for it from now on."
"If you need any advice, let me know. I've dated all over this city, and I can probably think of a few ideas to help you out. But you don't have to think that you can only write about finding love while actually being in love - everything here is about seeing, experiencing, growing. And love isn't just for another person, either: there are plenty of other things to love about this city. Part of dating, anyways, is just figuring out who you are."
"Yes," Regina said. "I suppose it is."
"And being in a city like this - surrounded by stuff, history, intellectuals, people, parties, clothes, lights, rats-"
Regina rolled her eyes, thinking of the ones she saw occasionally- "Ugh, those rats."
"-it's all about finding where you fit in, you know? It's not just about the romance."
"I think the articles I am writing are automatically successful because Paris is a place that everyone is curious about," said Regina.
"Sure. Perhaps. But your writing and pictures are magical, Regina. You have a great touch with words, a great eye for photos. You made me want to get out, and experience life, not just think about school."
"I don't know how I'm going to keep writing this stuff and have it do well. If there's one thing I've learned from my years writing fashion, it's that tastes change really fast." Regina said, sighing.
"So the answer is simple, right? Make sure your work evolves with everyone's tastes. I don't think you're the kind to shy away from that kind of challenge," said Emma.
..•..
That night, she lay awake. Regina stared at her ceiling, the shadows of her curtains fluttering in the breeze of the open window dancing and swirling, throwing the shadows into strange shapes and arrangements.
Work, Henry. Memories of Daniel. Her life had been only those things. Even after she'd moved to Paris.
Until Robin came along.
Maybe Emma had been right. Maybe she'd been too hard on Robin? He'd never done anything to suggest that he wasn't worth her trust. Other than withholding information - but that was not completely outrageous. What had stung was that Regina was caught off guard by Marion that one day, who knew so much more about Robin than she had. She'd felt betrayed by him just because he hadn't told her every single detail about his life.
And it's not like it was anything very current. The past was the past, and you can't change it. What he did when he was still really just a kid shouldn't be a deal breaker for them now, right? Honestly, if someone Regina had known had done what she did, and broke up with him for refusing to tell her 100% about his past, Regina would say it was ridiculous and that person needed to get over themselves.
She'd spent so much time over the past two weeks justifying her decision to stop seeing him because of the bad things about him. The stupid things he'd done, the information he'd withheld, his slightly unpredictable nature.
She'd just focused on the bad, never the good.
Regina rolled out of bed and walked to the kitchen and gazed out the window, her forehead pressed to the glass. The window was partially cracked open, and a fresh breeze carrying the scents of thousands of things in the city: the exhaust, the food, the ancient buildings, a whiff of over-ripe garbage, the sweet, heady scent of the flowers in her window box, it was all drifting into the kitchen. She took a glass of water, and sipped on it.
Robin had been supportive of her, and her crazy work life (except for those times when he'd distracted her during a long lunch hour). He hadn't thought her impulsive or irresponsible for upping and moving to a new country, which is more than a lot of people she'd left behind back home. He'd also been so kind to her son. He even connected with Henry in ways that Regina herself didn't feel she could.
She thought of her latest piece for the column that she was working on: this week's topic was about where to go on dates in Paris. A few of the spots he'd taken her early on in her life in Paris made the list: bookstores, coffee shops, museums.
He'd done everything right, really. Except for being a flawless human being.
She shook her head, suddenly angry with herself, and gripped the side of the counter. She needed to stop. She wasn't perfect, he wasn't perfect.
Even Daniel hadn't been perfect.
Of course, in her memories, he was: kind, with his gentle smile, a loving father, a good lover…
But that was so long ago, and so much had happened. She had been a kid back then, really. In comparison to now. (Just like Robin had been a kid.) She was a different person now. She'd done so much, seen so much. Who knows where she and Daniel might be now if he were still alive. And whether he would be the same person, too. If they would be the same couple.
She returned to bed, setting the glass of water down on her nightstand. She rolled onto her back and resumed watching the shadows caused by city light streaming through her window and the curtains fluttering in the breeze, dancing on her ceiling.
Eventually, she drifted back to sleep.
..•..
Daniel came to her in a dream.
The two of them were in a place they'd actually been to a long, long time ago. A vast farm, green pastures, somewhere deep in Connecticut, where Regina had taken some riding lessons. Daniel's family who loved riding, had given her the lessons as a gift one summer after she expressed interest in learning.
In the dream, Regina had a recognizable outfit on: it was one she'd worn back then, when she was a young woman, a pretty baby-blue riding jacket embossed with a stripe, tan leggings, tall leather riding boots, and her hair neatly pulled back in a braid.
Although in real life that place had been relatively happy, in the dream it was filled with sadness. In her dream, she was panicking, upset and stressed. Her dream-self had the camera she used nowadays to shoot photos, and in the dream she was frantically taking pictures of the horse and of Daniel standing in his fine riding clothes, beaming down at her. She kept saying that she needed to take these pictures, for these would be the last ones she'd have of him.
Daniel was comforting, soothing her with kind words as she shuddered with nerves, with anxiety, with tears, and took her endless pictures. Then they each mounted horses, pretty chestnut-brown horses like the ones Regina used to ride at that stable. As they rode, the pastures in Connecticut inexplicably morphed into the grounds of Versailles, the same shady grounds with impeccable tall hedgerows, white marble statues and endless, perfect rows of flowers, where Regina had walked with Robin that one blissful afternoon.
"I can't be with you any longer," dream-Daniel said to her after they had ridden for a while.
"No, please, please don't go, please don't leave me," Regina protested. "I know you don't like it here. But we can go. You can ride horses all you want, we'll move anywhere you want, out West, back to Maine, away from Paris or away from New York. Wherever you want to go."
"It's not because of that. Not because I don't want to live here," Daniel explained, his voice calm and steady. "I moved on. You must too."
"Why are you doing this to me?" dream-Regina replied.
"Because I need to. Take everything… the apartment, Henry, the horse, move on, and be happy, okay?'
"I can't," Regina said, her voice unconvincing. Then, she was no longer the girl in the blue riding coat, but her adult self, shorter hair, black pants, a simple grey t-shirt, white blazer, stopping her horse and dismounting.
"Please, please stay with me," she said firmly, her girlish voice gone, her voice firm and authoritative, the way it had become after years of school and hard work experience in New York, gazing sternly up at Daniel, who was still mounted on his horse.
"I love you, but I need to go. You will love again, Regina, I promise," were his last, soft words to her.
"No…" Regina protested, standing with her horse as she watched Daniel ride away, disappearing from the grounds of Versailles. He left Versailles, and somehow in this dream world, she saw him riding once again in his parents' yard in Connecticut, riding along the lush green lawns, the sunlight reflecting on the long grass. He rode into the nearby woods, and disappeared from her view.
..•..
Regina woke up the next morning and knew she wanted to talk to Robin.
She picked up her phone many times that day, yet couldn't work up the nerves to actually call or text him.
She took work calls, sat through a long monthly meeting with a few others on her team, sorted through her emails for the third time, making sure that the high-priority ones were all dealt with.
Until finally, late-afternoon right before she was to pick up Henry, she received a text. Grabbing her phone and glancing at the screen, she hoped it was from Robin.
Instead, she was shocked to see it was from Marion.
Regina, I'd like to meet you sometime, for a coffee. Would that be all right with you?
..•..
Regina met Marion at a small tea house tucked away on yet another quaint, narrow street. The sign outside said that it had been established in 1910. Inside, the cozy room was filled with wood-paneled walls and artwork, modern, with big, bold colors and bright strokes of paint. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Soft, relaxing music was playing, though not loud enough to drown out the hushed, polite voices of the elegant ladies seated at tiny tables around the room.
Marion was already there when Regina arrived (she glanced at her phone, she was a minute late). The woman was seated at a table set in a quiet little nook, off to the side and blocked from most of the rest of the dining area by a semi-abstract statue of what looked like a butterfly.
"Regina. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Marion said in French, rising to greet her.
She then switched to English. Marion had very good spoken English, with just a touch of a sweet, lyrical accent.
"You're probably wondering why I asked you here," she said, smiling calmly at Regina as a waitress in all black carefully poured tea from an enameled teapot.
"I am. But I'm glad you did. I'm afraid our last encounter was a little unexpected - for both of us, and might not have left you with the best impression of me," admitted Regina.
Marion nodded. "I felt the same. But then I decided that if you are going to be spending time with Robin, and I want to allow him to see Roland more often, then I suppose I'd get to know you a little better. More than knowing you only as that American writer who also happens to be seeing my ex."
"I would love to know more about you," Regina said, ignoring the comment about Robin and deciding not to update her on their current relationship status.
And so they sat, sipping tea from elegant white porcelain cups. (The tea blend was stunningly delicious, Regina discovered. Even though she was not a tea drinker, it was a blend of black teas with a slightly floral and slightly spicy taste that was very refreshing and pleasant). They talked about their respective careers and the challenges of balancing children with the demands of their work.
For most of the conversation, they ignored the elephant in the room, Robin. But after they'd eaten most of the small snacks they'd been served with the tea (scones and macaroons, small pieces of bread with pate, tiny sandwiches,) in the end, Marion finally broached the topic.
"Robin and I were never right for each other. It wasn't going to work," explained Marion, giving Regina an abbreviated version of their history, which corresponded to what Robin had told her.
"For years, I've been hesitant to send Roland to spend time with him for very long, because he seemed to be so… down. Down is the right word, I think? He was blue, you might say, only ever at work even though I know he doesn't love that job, no home and sleeping on the couch of a friend. He lacked direction. But now, he's changed. He seems different since he met you."
Regina laughed. "I doubt I am to credit for that. If anything, he changed me from being a workaholic mom with the insane idea to move across an ocean, to someone who occasionally gets out and does something different with her son on the weekend."
"But it is no doubt that he is motivated by your presence in his life," Marion insisted. "I feel more comfortable than ever before when sending Roland to spend time with him."
"I'm not with Robin all of the time, you know," Regina said, easing into the topic.
"I know. But I suspect you are contributing to a degree of stability in his life." Marion took a delicate sip from her cup of tea. She had long eyelashes that Regina noticed curled beautifully, and she wore a stack of gold bracelets on her tiny wrist that moved down her arm and jingled together pleasantly as she raised the teacup to her lips.
"It just seems he has more goals, and such, nowadays.." she said, her voice trailing off.
"I am getting married." Marion said after a moment, setting her cup back down and looking at Regina, her long lashes fluttering. "I hope that Robin will not find it a shock. I'm afraid he took our breakup quite harshly a few years ago."
"Oh," Regina replied, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Congratulations. He doesn't know?"
She shook her head. "He knew I was in a fairly serious relationship, but that... no… that's new, as of last weekend."
Regina didn't say anything. She should really tell Marion that she and Robin were no longer an item.
(Or maybe they were not exactly not an item?)
Regina remained silent.
"I hope he finds happiness, too. If our son can't see his parents happily together, I want him to see how a happy relationships can work," Marion admitted.
"I'm not sure it's going to be with me," Regina tried again.
"Of course it might not be. But I see the potential for it to be," Marion said quietly.
They were quiet for a few more minutes.
"It's been nice to get to know you a little better," Regina said, hoping to shift the conversation.
Their conversation then drifted back to the topic of balancing their busy home lives with demanding jobs. Marion told Regina a bit about her upcoming nuptials (planned for December). They kept their conversation friendly, and although Regina sensed the two of them would probably never be friends, they were at least on far better footing than they had been last time. They could finally see eye-to-eye, as mothers who loved their sons dearly.
Afterwards, Regina couldn't go straight back to work. She wandered up and down the streets of the neighborhood where she'd had tea with Marion, which was a little upscale and a little bit bohemian, with many interesting and unique little luxury boutiques in the area that she made mental notes to come back and write about at some point. She passed an hour or two ducking in and out of a few little shops, absentmindedly wandering, not really shopping, but looking. And thinking. She kept an eye on her emails, and an eye on the time, but her mind kept wandering to Robin.
As she sifted through a rack of vintage blouses in a small boutique, she resigned herself to one thing: that she should stop avoiding it and go ahead and make the call to Robin.
..•..
Emma was her only babysitter. Emma also, unfortunately for Regina but fortunately for Emma, had a vibrant social life now that she was working and dating instead of spending all of her hours deep in books in the library. She went to parties, restaurants, outings with her significant other, talked of holidaying in the south of France for a week later in the summer, and Regina didn't have to ask to know that she wouldn't have a lot of availability to watch Henry.
How does one even do this? Regina wondered, contemplating how she'd ever manage to settle things with Robin alone, in private, without Henry's watchful eyes or the pressure of having to be back to meet him at a certain time. She didn't want him to know about her personal relationships, especially ones that were so up in the air. He already was too attached to Robin as it was; she didn't want to get his hopes up.
And then Henry came home from school one afternoon and told Regina about summer camp. Some others had been talking about it at school, and he seemed interested in getting out of the city, seeing the countryside, learning new things. He was particularly enthusiastic about going to this camp because there was archery, and he knew Robin could do archery and that had piqued his interest.
Regina could tell that the prospect of getting away from under the wings of his mother and leaving the city, which she knew was stifling to him, excited him. And so it was with reluctance (and a twinge of sadness that her boy had grown old enough to have opinions about how he should spend his summer) that Regina allowed him to go. It would be his first long stay away from "home."
"Are you sure you want to do this? Go to camp for 3 weeks?" Regina asked him one night for the millionth time.
"I do," Henry said, nodding eagerly. "And you can visit - there's a parent day. You'll be there, right?"
Regina nodded and hugged him. "Absolutely."
Typically, a spot at such a nice summer camp had to be reserved and arranged months in advance, but one of Henry's schoolteachers, Mademoiselle Blanchard, worked at the camp and agreed that it would be a good experience for Henry. She pulled some strings and found Henry a space at the camp in the place of someone else who had withdrawn at the last minute.
And so it was with a heavy heart when Regina dropped him off early one Saturday morning with the group of campers and supervisors, including Mlle. Blanchard, at a train station, and waved goodbye.
"Just like Harry Potter," said Henry enthusiastically as she helped him on to the train with his suitcases for camp.
"Yes," she said, laughing. "Have a good time, call me whenever you can. I am always here for you, no matter what, if you need anything at all," she said, leaning forward and kissing him on his forehead, then brushing her forefinger affectionately along his chin.
"I will," he said, grinning.
And then Regina was on her own for 3 weeks.
..•..
Finally, she made the call.
Robin agreed to meet Regina the next day. She paced her apartment, feet bare in the summer warmth, sipping an iced coffee, listening to the birds in the courtyard outside play and chirp, plotting in her mind what she'd say to him.
Robin met her at her apartment the next evening and then they walked to a little bistro around the corner. It was one that Regina had passed many times but had never tried, as it was only open for dinner and she hadn't had a chance to go on many proper dinner dates with Robin.
It was late and the restaurant had a relaxed atmosphere, just the ambient light from the street and the light of a candle in the center of the table, flickering in the gentle night breeze, illuminating their faces. It was a hot night, but pleasant rather than stifling, and the restaurant had a man playing a soft, classical song on a guitar that further added to the gentle ambiance.
Regina smiled as Robin chivalrously pulled out the chair for her to sit down.
They were quiet, but oddly at ease together. They were different than they had been before all of Robin's revelations about his past: there was no silly teasing or goofy jokes, or jabs on Regina's part about Robin crashing in her apartment.
Instead, they seemed to be getting to know each other again. It was kind of like a first date, and when Regina lightheartedly pointed that out, Robin agreed.
They were acting a little tentative, just a bit more hesitant than normal, careful around each other. At the same time, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about their jobs and the things that had happened in the last two or so weeks since they'd parted. Normal things that people on a date might discuss. Regina filled him in on the news about her blog articles getting picked up in the print edition of the magazine.
'That's wonderful," Robin said earnestly, holding up a glass of wine that they'd poured from the bottle they'd ordered and meeting her eyes. "And very well deserved. Cheers."
"It was great news, but I must admit, strange timing a few weeks ago," said Regina. "With… things between us not on solid ground."
"Ah, but what you write, it's more than just about us," said Robin. "And it deserves to be recognized, no matter what happened between us."
"But you did help me come up with much of the inspiration for those pieces. I suppose I owe you a bit of a toast, too. My success is owed a little bit to you, and the fact that you have lovely taste about what to show me in Paris." Regina said, slowly.
"Well, what can I say. I am glad I was useful," he said, his blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight.
She smiled. "You look good tonight."
"And you look positively radiant," he said, leaning forward and keeping his eyes on her.
"If you are now trying to guarantee that I will have enough inspiration to write at least 1 or 2 more columns, then you have succeeded," Regina said.
He smiled. "You know, you have inspired me as well. I finally decided that I live in one of the fashion capitals of the world, so I went shopping and figured out how to dress myself more decently."
"I noticed your new shirt," Regina said. "You look very nice."
It was true. He looked particularly well-pulled together, in classic tan and white, rather than his usual khaki, woodsy colors. He seemed to be trying, for her. That was a good sign, she figured. A sign that he cared about what she thought.
As the night wore on under the deep, velvety ink sky, the music from the guitar player drifting into the street around them, they loosened up, laughing, moving, speaking even more freely. The conversation flowed from one thing to the next, they caught up on news about their sons, then talked seriously about Marion, and then the conversation turned to Robin's past.
"I just want you to know I wasn't angry when you told me about everything that happened in your past. I just… I didn't know how to react," Regina admitted, after they'd finished their main courses. "It caught me off guard."
Robin lowered his eyes. "I shouldn't have kept so many details from you for so long, especially ones that you were bound to find out eventually anyways. And you should know, I don't regret any of my choices," he said simply. "They have led me to who I am."
"You shouldn't regret them," she said simply.
He leaned towards her. "They've even led me here. To you. Right now."
"I'm not perfect," Regina said slowly. "It would be hypocritical to expect you to be. What I am is very used to being on my own, though."
"Do you really want to?"
"Do I really want to what?" Regina asked.
"What I mean is, all this-" he waved his hand around "-your work, living situation, raising a son, you don't have to do it forever on your own."
"Well, I know that."
"Do you? Because sometimes - like recently - I do feel like you push me away, Regina."
She bit her bottom lip and looked down at her plate.
"You had every right to be annoyed with me, but that felt like downright rejection."
She sighed. "I did push you away. I wanted to get away from you, okay? And not just because of those things. But sometimes I don't really believe that someone would want to be a part of my life. I'm busy, with work and with a son, those two things take up my entire day and part of my night. I don't have a lot to give to anyone else."
"I'm not sure that's true," Robin said carefully.
Regina didn't say anything.
"Because," he said, reaching out to touch her hand, "you think that you and I as a couple, what? Is selfish on your part? That I'll get bored because you have things in your life other than me? Somehow that being in a relationship diminishes you as a mother, or as a brilliant writer?"
Regina shrugged. "Maybe. Yes. To it all."
"Well, let me make it clear. I can support you, in the sense of being there, to be supportive of you and all that you do."
Regina took a deep breath and nodded.
"It's not selfish to want a partner in life," he continued, then lowered his voice to admit, "I want one, too. And whether that's with each other or not - and I'll be honest, the idea of having you as that partner is indeed very appealing to me - it's not a completely silly thing to want."
They were quiet for a few moments.
"Do you want a home, though? Commitments? Stability? You've been quite the bohemian for a while, always on the move, for several years," she wondered.
"Yes, I want to provide Roland stability. I don't want him to only have that with his mother, and then he sees me, his father, and I'm that guy. The one crashing in friends' apartments or renting temporary flats. It's no way for me to be," he sighed. "What kind of influence would that be?"
It was Regina's turn to reach out and take Robin's hand this time.
"You're not being silly for providing for your family and a home for your son. You are allowed - even encouraged - to take care of your own family before you help others. There's nothing selfish about that, and it won't mean that you are destined to take on the lifestyle and habits of your parents if you do so," she said.
Robin nodded.
"Now," she said, clearing her throat and relaxing a bit, hoping to break the tension from such a serious discussion. "Now that we've covered all that, what next, Mr. Locksley?What do we do?"
"Well, I know what I want."
"And what is that?"
"Perhaps we could once again take up the lifestyle and habits we had a few weeks ago?"
"I believe could live with that," Regina said.