Chapter 11 – The Better Fit

What was the deal with Neal and timing?

When Emma had first met him, he'd been what she'd needed exactly when she'd needed him. Her knight in Armani who'd come to the rescue. But now, his timing couldn't have been worse.

She and Killian had gotten back together less than twelve hours ago and after the infuriating conversation with her parents Neal was the last thing their fragile relationship needed. She could only imagine how Killian was feeling right now. And still, she couldn't let her recent ex-boyfriend leave without a proper explanation. After two years together, he deserved that much.

"Your hair," Neal said on their way to the pond. "It reminds me of when we first met."

Emma glanced at him, offering a tight smile. She knew what he was doing . . . reminiscing.

The reason she'd agreed to go out with Neal Cassidy in the first place was because she'd been grateful. On the day they met, more than two years ago, she'd been attacked and Neal had been her rescuer.

It had been at the end of a long work day that Emma had exited the office dressed for the gym, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, same it was now. And it had been that day that her so-called secret admirer – turned out to be stalker – had been the lone occupant in the elevator. Eighteen terrifying floors later, the blessed ding as the doors slid apart, followed by Neal – who was working at the same office building as her – entering the car had put an end to that living nightmare.

But she wasn't going to let that guilt-trip her into staying with him. She just couldn't.

"So what have you been doing these last couple of days?" she asked when they took a seat on the bench.

"Missing you." His longing gaze made her shift uncomfortably.

Looking away for a brief moment, she smiled awkwardly. "That's not what I meant."

"It's the truth. Ever since you told me you needed a break I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't do anything without thinking about you. I miss you, Emma." His words came out fast and desperate. "I was at court the other day, prosecuting this high profile serial killer and all I could think about was you. I called Carol . . . my assistant . . . I called her Emma. Five times in twenty minutes." He chuckled sadly and the sound made her uneasy. "When I get home and your stuff isn't there... It breaks me. I want you to come back with me."

"I can't."

"We don't have to get married." He shook his head. "Forget I asked. We can just go back to the way things were."

"I can't go back to the way things were." What he didn't know was that her heart had always been here in Storybrooke in the hands of one Killian Jones. Neal never stood a chance. No one did. Not while she was still hung up on her first love. "I'm sorry, Neal." She really was. A single tear slid from the corner of her eye. Emma had her taste of unrequited love for almost a decade. And it was a faith she wished no one, especially not someone like Neal who had been nothing but good to her.

"Emma." His thumb wiped her tear and she had to fight the urge to flinch at his touch. Only a week ago it had been so safe and familiar, but now . . . she burned for another's. And his alone. "I love you," Neal said softly and when he leaned to kiss her, she scarcely managed to avoid the brush of his lips and move away.

He shoved a hand through his hair. "You're already with him," he accused, his brown eyes burning with pain and anger. "What's next? You're going to tell me you're going to marry him?"

Despite her excitement of being Mrs. Jones, more tears fell and she scrubbed them away before Neal could. "I never meant to hurt you." She sniffled, feeling a pang of guilt. "I just . . . I have to follow my heart."

"And your heart led you here?" His tone hardened. "To him?"

She nodded.

"He will hurt you again," he warned, pushing to his feet. "And when he does, I'll be right where you left me, waiting for you," were his last words before he walked away.

Emma didn't want him to wait for her, yet she believed him that he would. And the thought of him as her "plan B" made her miserable. If it wasn't going to be Killian, it was going to be no one at all.

…

Shirtless and vexed under the timber roof of the boathouse, Killian was fixing a broken motor in record time. He picked up a can of contact cleaner and shook it almost violently before he sprayed the open engine that sat in a trashcan half-filled with water. As he reached for the heavy steel lid and quickly screwed it back on with both hands, he heard Emma's footsteps.

"Hey." Her soft voice quickly followed.

With his back to her, he crouched in front of the red metal toolbox and searched its content. "He wants you back."

There was a moment of wordless silence and he guessed the statement caught Emma off guard.

"He does." She sounded anxious and he was afraid to look at her and see the struggle in her eyes, being already full of doubts as he was. Then she released the tension with a deep exhalation. "The question is, do you?"

"What I want means nothing." Grabbing a ten inch crescent wrench and rising to his feet, he turned to face her and froze at her reddened eyes, his jaw clenching. He looked away, couldn't stand to see her aching over another man. "It's your decision to make, Swan." He moved to tighten the engine's center bolt back to its place.

"So if I go with him you won't even try to stop me? You're not going to fight for me? For us?" Her mouth pursed with disappointment.

Frustration made Killian apply extra pressure on the tool, his abs and biceps flexing with each turn.

"What happened to fuck me until I say I do?" She gathered her golden locks and swept them over one shoulder and he wondered when and why she'd lost the ponytail updo.

He threw the tool back in the box. "I was under the impression you didn't like me saying that." More so, he was certain Emma preferred her ex-boyfriend's more . . . cultured approach.

"It actually turned me on," she drawled, her gorgeous long legs slowly closing the distance between them. His gaze was riveted to the sway of her hips, and his ears attuned to the clicking sound of her deep-pink stilettos – the color that matched her dress. "I can't skip work tomorrow, so I have only a couple of hours until I head back to New York…" Her fingertip drew seductive lazy circles on his sweaty bare chest. Whenever Emma was this close it was getting hard – literally – for him to stay indifferent. "What do you say we make the most of it?"

There was nothing more that he wanted to do. But making love to Emma – as wonderful and glorious as it was – wasn't going to fix their issues.

Smiling tightly, he showed her his grease covered hands, hoping it would make her back out.

It didn't.

"I don't mind…" She shrugged, reaching for the exposed flesh just above the waistband of his jeans, making his skin tingle at the contact. "I would actually love to get your dirty hands all over me," she murmured, her lips pressed against the damp skin of his throat.

In a word – torture.

With his hands raised, he was careful not to touch her and stain her clothes. "I think your dress would disagree."

Pushing onto her tiptoes, she whispered seductively in his ear, "I can take it off; I can take it all off. Maybe not the heels though. I'll leave those on" – her voice lowered further – "and let you fuck me wearing nothing else."

Christ.

Emma caught his earlobe between her teeth and nipped with the promise to drive him wild. He hissed at the soft bite of pain. Then her tongue darted out to soothe the hurt with slow licks. "I think you would like that…" She pulled back to look at him, a wicked smile teasing her mouth.

So she thought right. Truth was he loved everything involving Emma and her luscious body. Just the thought aroused him in an instance, his entire body already hot and hard with need.

She ran her tongue along her lower lip in blatant provocation and his gaze followed the movement.

If he were a better man he would have resisted, but he couldn't think straight when her breathtaking face was just a couple of inches from his.

Pressing his mouth to hers, he surged forward, his body forcing her to step backward until he had her backed against the wall. His dirty palms pressed flat to the wooden wall on either side of her head. He enjoyed caging her in and feeling her surrender. Emma's hands went to his hair, sliding through it, tugging. Her body strained towards his, her cotton covered breasts pressed against his naked torso. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss. His greedy tongue dipped inside her mouth, licking, stroking.

God. He loved kissing her. And he needed this reassurance ever since the human threat showed up in town. But the moment he identified the taste on her tongue, he broke the kiss, soundly tearing his mouth from hers.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned his forehead against hers, his breath gusting fast and humid against her lips.

The coffee and honey bagel Cassidy had brought her had jolted Killian back to reality. Making him realize that aside from her body, he knew nothing about the woman he wanted to marry. About her likes and dislikes…

He pushed off the wall, turning away from her and holding the back of his hand to his mouth.

"Killian…?" Concern tinged her voice.

Pulling himself together with a deep inhalation, he turned to face her, his hand dropping to his side. "It's a really nice dress," he said as if the last couple of minutes had never happened. "I like it a lot." He watched her lips curling in a smile despite her confusion. "Cassidy seemed to like it too."

That killed her smile.

She let out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry about everything that happened with him. I'm sorry about what he said – "

"He told no lies." Killian shrugged, then went to the toolbox and fetched a thick string.

"Still, he had no right talking to you the way that he did." She followed, closing some distance. "I should've said something."

Gritting his teeth, he coiled the cord around the engine head. "But you didn't." Instead, she'd chosen to downplay the depth of their relationship in front of her ex. "Because you didn't want to hurt him." He paused to look at her, study her. And something that sifted through her green eyes told him he'd just hit the nail on its head. "You love him."

Her eyes dropped and she shook her head.

He didn't believe her. Picking up the bulb of the fuel line, Killian squeezed a couple of times to get some gas in the motor, wishing it was his heart he was squeezing instead. Surely it couldn't have hurt worse than the well deserved pain he was feeling in his chest.

"Killian…" Desperation took over her voice. And he hated being the reason she sounded like that. "You're reading too much into this. I don't love him." Her words caused him to glance her way and check if there was any truth to them. He couldn't tell. "I swear I don't. It's just," she hesitated, clearly contemplating whether to tell him the reasoning behind her actions. "It's just…" Her chest expanded on a long, deep breath. "I know what getting dumped feels like," she admitted finally. "And I didn't want to make Neal feel like I never cared about him."

Dropping the bulb, he locked eyes with her and nodded. "Like I made you feel?" His throat burned.

Emma didn't answer. She didn't have to. He knew it was a big fat yes.

Cassidy probably never hurt her.

"I'm sorry." She pissed him off by apologizing when he was the one who needed to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. "I'm sorry about everything . . . my parents . . . Neal . . ." – there was a long pause and when Emma spoke again her voice was full of pain and regret – "I'm sorry about the letters."

Shifting restlessly, he pushed for a topic change. Anything but the tens of thousands words declaring his love for her burning in flames.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Emma's eyes widened. She seemed shocked. Almost horrified. "Neal?"

"August."

She huffed a chuckle, probably to hide her embarrassment, but her flushed cheeks gave her away. And Killian could only imagine what kind of vivid memories were running through her mind.

He exhaled harshly and started pacing. August Booth had been his childhood friend. Up until freshman year of high school. The thought of Emma lying naked beneath the one guy who'd turned his back on him after his parents passed away, hurt his already bruised heart.

"It's not what you think."

"I thought you didn't like the guy," he snapped, stopping abruptly. "All of a sudden you're best buds?"

"He was different in college." Her arms crossed, a defensive posture that angered him further.

"You mean after I was out of the picture."

"I mean, after you" – she pointed an accusing finger at him – "took yourself out of the picture!"

"Right." He gave a brisk nod. This was good. He wanted her pissy as he was. He wanted her to shout at him, punish him, hit him, do something other than just let his betrayal slide.

How could he live with her forgiveness when he couldn't forgive himself?

"Killian…" To his dismay, her eyes and voice softened with compassion. "Why are you trying so hard to pick up a fight?" She waited the length of ten heartbeats before she made a frustrated noise at his silence. "Please don't shut me out. Talk to me, Killian. Please." Her beautiful emerald eyes pleaded him. "I love you." Her fingers tangled in the white waistline ribbon of her dress and her gaze fell to the floor. "Do you…" There was an insecure note in her voice that made him feel guilty. "Do you love me?"

Of course he loved her. More than anything in this bloody world. But, "You can't live off love." He hated the defeated tone of his voice. He hated that circumstances prevented him from telling her just how much she meant to him.

"You did not just quote my mother." Emma exhaled with frustration. "Money isn't everything, Killian."

"Yeah, when you have it." What kind of life did she think she'd have with him? He might never be able to buy her a home or even fend for her – as her father had put it – let alone for their children. Her former boyfriend on the other hand, was probably living in his two point five million dollar apartment just waiting for her to come home. As much as Killian hated to admit it, Cassidy seemed to be the better fit. "Your mother is right. They're all right, you know."

"Who's they?"

"Your parents, your boyfriend – "

"He is not my boyfriend." Her hands went to her hips. "I thought you are." It was a muttered whisper, but he heard it.

"Ruby."

Emma visibly stiffened, a frown marring the space between her brows. "What the fuck did she have to say?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that there's one thing they were all trying to say and . . . and I have to agree with them." That got her full attention. "Our worlds are too far apart. We have absolutely no business being together."

The awful stretch of silence was like watching a plane crash. In slow motion. You knew what was coming; you knew the impact would cause utter and complete destruction, yet you couldn't look away or do anything to stop it.

"Killian . . . what are you s-saying?" There was a tremor in her voice. "That you don't want to get married?" She bit her bottom lip in an obvious and failed attempt to keep it from trembling.

It was the hardest part. Pushing her away when he wanted her to stay. When she wanted to stay. Letting go when his mind screamed at him to hang on.

"I'm saying you should reconsider the proposal." He caught her gaze and held it. "His proposal."

Pain twisted her beautiful face. And the mixture of hurt, anger and betrayal that crossed her green eyes was achingly familiar. It was the look he'd hoped never to see again.

"Screw you," she bit out. "Screw you and your insecurities."

Unable to bear her streaming tears, he turned his back to her and reached for the motor. He pulled the cord with more force than absolutely needed, starting the engine. The loud noise cutting through the air as much as his soul. His head bowed, his fingers massaging his temples. He didn't care he was smearing motor oil all over his face. He didn't care about anything at all when there was this giant rift between Emma and him. Inhaling deeply, Killian waited long minutes before he looked over his shoulder, his gaze drifting back to where Emma had been standing.

His jaw clenched.

She was gone.