To say I am torn is the understatement of the century. For the past four days, Emma has been sending pictures of our little family on the California trip. I completely ignored the first message with her cryptic words that pierced my heart and left a gaping wound in its awake. She didn't bother sending anything else that night, most likely too mortified by her bluntness to push for anything more, which I was thankful for.
The next day another picture appeared on my screen, but this time there were no words to follow and the image was a more neutral one, the first moment we captured together on the train, which I was aware of compared to the last. I decided to reply with something vague and most importantly friendly. "Henry looks so young." Simple. Easy. Not at all insinuating or can be misconstrued in any form.
Later that evening I received another message, where she casually stated, "I miss those days." I chose to leave the conversation at that and not continue to lead her on with anything more. The following day another picture was sent, another one that was easy to suspect as just friends and nothing more. Three smiling faces, squinting against the bright sun with the enormous Hollywood sign in back of us. Despite my best efforts, I smiled at the phone for a full twenty-four hours, never responding.
I've ignored her once again and this time she didn't offer any other sentimental values. However, karma was livid at my poor behavior and decided it was in her best interest to punish me. Thus placing the sheriff with her fussy baby and I awkwardly in the middle of an aisle with nobody else in the store.
"Hey," Emma softly greets me with her fingers methodically combing through Hope's silky strands.
The beautifully baby is sucking rather aggressively on her purple butterfly pacifier with big wide eyes, red rimmed, that express how tired she is. She's sitting in the front of the cart, already in fuzzy neon green footie pajamas with a permanent pout like her mother.
"Hello," I politely reply and step to move passed her, but she quickly blurts out her concerns, stilling my feet from officially fleeting.
"Hey, so my mom keeps bugging me, saying Hope needs to eat more and that she's hungry. Whale said I need to wait until six months, but between you and me, I think my mom might be right," she whispers, never wanting her secret to leak from our small grocery bubble. I raise one eyebrow in questioning, encouraging her to proceed. "It's just Hope isn't sleeping through the night and she's always so mad when she's finished drinking her bottle."
Emma's worried eyes drift back down to her daughter, her fingers still trailing through her hair for comfort. Hope faintly smiles up at her mother, but the exhaustion is clouding her big brown eyes.
"Okay," is all I can mutter because I'm not sure if she is seeking my opinion or is just in need of a friend to vent to.
"So, what do you think?" She timidly asks, her eyes still glued onto her daughter.
"Don't listen to Whale, do what is best for you and your baby," I firmly state before taking another step to escape this awkward interaction that has my heart pounding dangerously against my chest, threatening to bruise my sternum.
"Okay, but which one should I get? Rice? Oatmeal? Oatmeal with apples? Oatmeal with bananas?" She rambles off the few options on the shelf while Hope scrambles in her seat, reaching in my direction.
I glance at the beautiful baby, with her arms stretched out and those adorable baby noises coming from her pacifier. My lips purse as my mind screams for my arms to remain at my sides and not pick her up. Hope groans, wiggling in the confines of her seatbelt, reluctant to forfeit her idea of escaping. My eyes narrow informing her to stay put as Emma scans the shelf.
"Regina?"
"Hmmm."
"What do you suggest?" She softly questions, inspiring my hand to reach across her and claim the box labeled Oatmeal.
"I found the rice always upset Henry's stomach, oatmeal was gentler and easy for him to digest. After she finishes this box you can try the banana or apple flavored, but you need to make sure she's not allergic, only offering her that one flavor for three days straight."
"Alright," she mindlessly replies as her eyes scan the box before her. A sudden cry shreds through the moment of silence, startling Emma and I. We both turn to Hope who is crying, just pleading to be released from the seat. "Aww, baby you're alright." Emma places the box down in the cart and quickly moves to wipe away Hope's thick tears.
"You should probably get her home," I sadly vocalize because the look in her pitiful brown eyes is just too much.
"Wait," she anxiously calls out, unbuckling her daughter from the cart to hold her close against her chest. "Do I feed this to her? Or do I mix a little in her bottle?"
Emma bounces from left to right, her palm firmly against Hope's head, but the wailing baby is wrestling against her mother and reaching for me once again. The exhausted mother peers down at her baby with a matching pout painted across her thin lips.
"It seems she's taken quite a shine to you," Emma teases, throwing my words right back in my face from the first occurrence when she spent time with Henry. I purse my lips, struggling to keep my smirk hidden, but Emma just leans into my side. "Do you mind?" She innocently questions with those stunning green eyes blinking back at me and of course I melt.
"Of course not," I lie, hating myself for feeling so torn between loving this baby and keeping my distance to protect my own heart.
Emma carefully passes Hope into my embrace, one arm sliding beneath her diaper bottom and my other hand gently rubbing her back to sooth her cries. Hope instantly finds comfort in playing with the ends of my hair as she sucks her pacifier even harder.
"Funny how calm she is with you," Emma insinuates as she examines the way I hold her baby close.
"I learned very quickly after Henry's frantic cries, how to relax with a baby in my arms." Emma hums and I swear I can see little hearts beating in her eyes. "Do you have baby bowls and spoons?" I hastily change the subject.
"Uh, no." I nod in the direction of the various options displayed before us. "Which is best?" She curiously questions as her hand reaches out to inspect each package carefully.
"A spoon is a spoon," Emma's annoyed eyes dart in my direction, glaring at me for my unwanted remark. I sigh and nod again toward the ones I used with Henry. "Those, they are softer for her gums and the color of the spoon changes if it's too hot."
"I have to warm this?" She quickly drops the spoons and lifts the box of oatmeal back up to read the instructions.
"Not that, but I suggest warming the vegetables for her."
"Oh." The sheriff sets down the box again and turns back to the spoons and bowls.
"Emma, why are you freaking out? You've done this before."
"I have not," she coldly argues, never once glancing in my direction.
I notice how my body subconsciously began to sway from side to side as Hope continues to play with my hair. I glance down at the tired little baby, her eyes still red from crying as she is rapidly sucking hard on her pacifier like she just might be able to squeeze some milk right out. I fight the urge to kiss her forehead in front of her mother and continue rubbing her back.
"Emma, you have, don't you still have all those memories from when Henry was a baby?"
"It's not the same, Regina. I know in my heart that I did not feed him baby food or change his diaper or soothe his fevers. I have memories of doing them, but I know that was all you. It wasn't me, and it most certainly wasn't real," she confesses and it's a cross between frustration, sadness and pure exhaustion.
"But you still should know how to do everything," I carefully rebuttal, not wanting to upset her or Hope anymore.
"It's not the same. I know I did not do those things. I'm all too aware of the fact that this is my first time with everything," and this time it's all sadness coating her words and for some strange reason I feel guilty.
"Well, look at this baby," I smile down at Hope as she nuzzles just below my chin. "She's obviously healthy and she's usually very happy, so I know you're doing everything right," I lovingly express, even though my heart is aching and my tongue sudden feels far too big for my own mouth.
"Regina-"
"She's calm now," I slowly lean Hope back against Emma and watch as the corky blonde scrambles to lift her baby into her arms. "Take her home, feed her the oatmeal with a small bottle after and watch how soundly she sleeps tonight."
"Wait, can you come back with me and help me?" She anxiously implores, forcing my eyes to meet her terrified gaze.
"That's what Hook is for."
"No it's not, beside he's patrolling Neverland tonight," she rapidly fires back before I can disappear. "What if she chokes?"
The most stunning set of eyes are glistening back at me, hopelessly begging for my help, but I can't. I can't muster up the courage to help her take care of Hope knowing how badly I want them for my own.
"You'll be just fine, Emma. I believe in you. I need to get going anyway," I politely decline, offering a small smile before scooting passed two sets of eyes pleading with me to stay.
I quickly rush out of that store so fast that I don't even buy the one item I needed. My palms are sweating, my heart is racing faster than my feet and there's this awful sensation clawing at my intestines for being so selfish and leaving them behind.
I'm not exactly sure how, but I do end up inside of Granny's, ready to toss back a few shots to end this misery eating away inside of me. Except the moment I step inside I'm faced with an even bigger tragedy.
Captain Sperm Donor is sitting at the counter with a glass of rum spinning in his only hand. His back is toward the door so I know he has yet to see me, besides his gaze is focused on someone else, a girl who is leaning in too close for comfort. They seem to be lost in their private conversation, ignorant to the rest of the world around them and how inappropriate this may appear to an outsider.
Blue-green eyes slowly crawl into my direction over Hook's black leather jacket and we make direct eye contact just as I hear his pathetic voice.
"I don't know what to do, I want to tell her, but I can't. She deserves to know the truth," he sighs heavily before tossing back his drink and slamming the glass down so roughly that I wince, waiting for the sounds of shattering glass to follow.
I don't truly consider what is occurring in front of me, all I know is Hook is here, drinking with Tinkerbell when according to Emma, he's suppose to be patrolling in Neverland. From first glance, my mind screams, cheating, lying, bastard! I don't even care if he is cheating or not in this moment because I'm more upset by the fact that Emma is alone, panicking in a grocery store over her baby and Hook is here, drinking with another woman.
"Uh, right," Tink stutters as her eyes stay locked onto my body as I stomp murderously across the diner.
My heels click with vengeance and determination, ready to rip this Jack Sparrow wannabe's heart right through his back, just to cause more damage and unbearable pain. Hook must sense Tink's fear or apprehension, because he abruptly spins around on his stool to discover me already reaching out to shove him. I want to rip his heart out and crush his useless organ, but I can't because of Hope and that wouldn't be fair to murder her father. I want to unleash my clenched fist against his jaw and break it so he can't eat for months, but I can't because I don't want to cause Emma anymore unnecessary stress.
So, I shove him, forcing him against the counter and provoking Tink to slide back in her stool away from Hook's personal space.
"You son of a-," I growl under my breath and by the frazzled, flabbergasted and bewildered expression tormenting his face, he really has no idea how dumb he truly is.
"Regina, what-"
"No, you don't get to speak," I firmly declare, holding up my finger to punctuate the severity in my words. He quickly snaps his mouth, but his eyes travel to the blonde fairy behind me for back up, thankfully she has enough common sense to remain silent. "How dare you sit here, tossing back your childish drink when you should be out patrolling Neverland." His mouth pops open to argue, but I lean forward, evaporating any thoughts left in his minuscule brain. "If you refuse to work because your alcohol induced brain cannot comprehend the idea of holding a real job, then you should be at home with Emma who is a nervous wreck right now over Hope," I scold him, shoving his shoulder once more for good measure and maybe because my hand is buzzing to violate him in some way.
"What's wrong with Hope?" He at least has the decency to appear frightened for his child.
"You would know if you weren't here spewing your pirate nonsense onto another innocent soul," I rudely comment, catching a quick glance of Tinkerbell who appears just as perplexed as he.
"Regina, you need to calm down," my friend whispers as she straightens her posture to appear more confident.
"Don't you dare," I growl, inching closer to her face. "What are you doing here with him? You should be telling him to go to work or go home to his family."
"Regina, lower your voice."
"I will not."
"What's wrong with Hope," Hook quickly interjects, forcing his scruffy face between Tink and I.
"Why are you not on patrol?" I avoid the question to allow the panic to fester deep inside and eat away at his alcohol soaked intestines.
"Its not my night," he angrily defends, his eyes shifting to the woman behind me that he seems so invested in this evening.
"I'm on patrol tonight, I'm supposed to leave in twenty minutes," Tink quickly confirms his statement, but I'm left more confused because Emma specifically said Hook was on patrol tonight.
"Why would Emma lie?" I skeptically interrogate, standing taller on my heels and leaning closer for intimidation.
"I don't know," Hook shrugs as his face contorts into painfully dumb, but I don't buy his feeble replies.
"Then why are you here with Tink instead of at home with Emma and Hope?" I continue investigating not wanting to back down until I come up with a logical explanation to all of this.
"Regina," he sighs, his stupid face draining from all color and for a moment I think he might be sick. On instinct my feet shuffle back two steps. "I can't keep lying."
"Then don't! If you don't want to be with Emma anymore then at least have the decency to tell her to her face instead of going behind her back and cheating like a scumbag. As much as you like to think you're still Captain Hook, this is Storybrooke and you are no longer a pirate here anymore. That type of behavior is unacceptable and I refuse to sit back and watch you destroy Hope's life."
"I'm not doing this anymore," Hook angrily states as he stands from his stool and tosses down a twenty on the bar. "You have no idea what you are talking about."
"Hook, don't," Tink implores, her eyes narrowing on the slimy asshole to please keep his secrets locked away, but he's violently shaking his head.
"Come on, Your Majesty," he spits with venom as his hand reaches out for my elbow.
"What the hell are you doing?" I hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to us because I'm vaguely aware of the nosy eyes soaking up every move we make.
"I'm settling this once and for all, let's go!"
He reaches for my arm again to drag me out of Granny's, but I'm far quicker and dodge his unwanted touch.
"I'm very capable of walking on my own without a drunken escort."
"I'm not drunk, but fine, let's go," he gestures toward the door, wordlessly demanding that we take this outside.
"Hook," Tink pleads again, resting her hand on his forearm. "Emma," is all she says with her big eyes begging him to reconsider.
"No, this has gone on long enough. I'm done. No more games. No more lies," he firmly declares before storming across the diner and out the door.
I hastily follow his lead, ready to be free from the busybody's of Storybrooke and unleash my wrath on this pathetic excuse for a man. The door slams shut behind me, announcing my raging presence, but the former pirate never once glances in my direction.
"I know how this all seems," he begins in a calm and gentle tone, "but I can't keep living a lie, even if that means infuriating Emma, which I know it will. But this ends, tonight." Hook sadly turns on his heel and heads for the sidewalk leading to his home, while I stand there, completely puzzled in his sudden change in behavior. "Let's go, Regina," he calls over his shoulder, provoking my eyebrows to pinch painfully together.
"Excuse me?"
"We need to speak with Emma, let's go," he nods toward the dark street with sporadic lampposts guiding the path to Emma's house.
"This is between you two, husband and wife, I most certainly should not be there," I coldly demand, lingering over the invisible line between the sidewalk and Granny's diner. I fold my arms across my chest, silently demanding my refusal, but this man is not accepting my rejection.
"No Regina, you have to be there. It's time to face reality."