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Chapter 36:

The next morning, Emma woke before Regina's alarm. She lay in the oceanic expanse of the California king, watching the sun bleed over her lover's body.

She wished she could be the light, making the other woman glow like some otherworldly being, infusing her with strength for the day to come.

If wrangling 20 sugar-crazed thirteen-year-olds wouldn't be tough enough, throwing Cora and Henry Sr. on top would give anyone, with even the most steely of constitutions, a peptic ulcer.

Could Regina really do it?

The brunette was a superhero in many ways. She could make a grown man lay down and beg for his life, of that Emma had no doubts. But when it came to the older woman's parents and the ghost of the brother the hung over the three of them, the Regina Emma knew and loved had a tendency to disappear.

She thought of the words her lover spoke the night before, about trust and love, a relationship, a future together, a reason to call Killian and say thanks, but no thanks, about blind faith and following the heart.

She moved closer to the warm body in the middle of the cold bed. She breathed deep the familiar apple scent and wound her limbs around the ones that fit so perfectly in her arms.

Regina believed in her.

She needed to believe in Regina, in a way that she'd thought foster care and failed relationships had ruined for her. She needed to give herself over.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to melt into the other woman, offering up her strength and her heart.

In her nightmares of the Evil Queen, it had always been so painful to give away her heart.

But now, in the silence and subtle daylight, it was strangely easy.

Sure, it still hurt, to be so vulnerable, but it was a good hurt—like reopening a scab and squeezing out the infection.

"I spent so much time thinking it was you who couldn't do it," she murmured into Regina's inky locks. "But it was me, too. I want you to know I'm ready now. I want to stay in Storybrooke, and I want a life here with Henry…and with you."

She held onto Regina like the woman was a life raft, eyes squeezed tight against the tide of her thoughts.

Then, a voice husky with morning saved her from drowning. "Excellent," Regina grumbled. "Now be a dear and make my tea."

She grinned. "It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty."

#

As Emma gawked around the country club's natatorium, she acknowledged that her second cup of coffee with a shot of espresso might not have been her most genius idea.

The sounds of nearly two-dozen screaming boys and girls all hell bent on their team winning the game of water volleyball reverberated in the chlorine-choked space.

Parents lined the glass walls of the enclosure, standing by the overflowing gift table or sipping punch that always seemed to be followed by a silver flask of something.

Regina worked the room in a tasteful navy blue one-piece and sheer wrap that far too many of the male parents—and some of the females—drooled over for Emma's liking.

In her own old and faded two-piece, she second-guessed her choice in attire for the umpteenth time.

Should have bought something new. Something less revealing.

She wondered if she should go and chat about the weather or something equally as cliché with Adam Gold's parents whom she recognized from a parent-teacher conference. She scuttled in that direction, then halted when Cora and Henry Sr. started on that same path.

So far, she'd managed to keep the pool between herself and their overpowering presence, and she planned to spend the entire shindig that way.

Her eyes trailed pleadingly over to Regina once more. Were she and the brunette here together together? They'd driven separately, despite leaving from the same driveway, so she doubted it.

None of Henry's other teachers—or any of the staff from Storybrooke—were there other than her, so she stuck out like the sorest of thumbs. Not to mention, the gift she'd poured her heart into for Henry had been gobbled up and spit out by professionally wrapped presents three and four times its size.

She felt the differences between her life and the Mills' most acutely in gatherings like these. She'd never even had a birthday party, certainly not one at a country club where people wore gold while they went swimming.

Her feet carried her backward, toward the changing room before she even realized she'd started moving.

I'll just regroup for a second, come back stronger, she told herself.

Her body seemed to have other ideas though, and she dropped like a hundred pound sack of rice on one of the wooden benches next to the lockers.

The only thing that kept her butt planted there instead of getting into her car and driving back to the sanctuary of her apartment was the promise that Regina would speak to her parents at the end of the party—that and the possibility of disappointing Henry who'd moved his party just for her.

From behind, she heard someone enter the dressing room, and she busied herself with pretending to adjust her filmy cover-up.

"Emma?"

At Regina's familiar, deep voice, she relaxed and turned around.

The brunette took one look at her face, and Emma knew how much she sucked at hiding her emotions.

"Oh, you're miserable," Regina said.

With a soft chuckle, the other woman strolled forward and pulled the blonde flush against her body.

"Well, I'm a little better now," Emma replied.

"You know I've got to mingle with the guests, or else I would spend all my time with you."

"Sure, sure, I know." But hearing it felt good.

"I thought you'd be in the pool with the kids, since you're just a big kid yourself. I never would have guessed you'd been so awkward at a child's birthday party."

"It's probably because I never really went to parties when I was young," Emma admitted. "I definitely never had a party being in the foster system."

"Never?"

"Nope."

Regina held her at arm's length, studying the blonde's face, as if to find some sort of lie.

"Well, I'll tell you a secret," the other woman said.

"Tell away."

"I've never had one either."

"What? You?"

"No. While Zeleno was alive, birthdays were a private family affair. I did ask for one at some point after his death, and my mother reacted in such a way that I never asked again."

At once, the hamster jumped on the wheel in Emma's mind, dreaming up future birthday scenarios for her lover.

"We'll have to make up for lost time then," she said.

"For you as well."

Overcome, she pulled Regina close, kissing her like they were in Paris, instead of in the middle of a women's locker room.

When they parted, Emma couldn't feel her legs, but certain other parts of her demanded Regina's thorough and immediate attention.

"Will they notice if you're gone?" she asked, raising her brows at one of the shower stalls.

"Not if we're quick and quiet," Regina replied. She winked, her eyes two dark stones of desire. "And I may bite when I come, since I can't be as loud as I would wish."

The promise in those words sent the growing wetness between Emma's legs sliding down her thighs.

They were walking toward the shower stall, Emma reaching out for one of Regina's hands when none other than Cora Mills entered the changing room.