A/N: Happy Sunday!
The dark ceiling stared back at her, an endless nothingness. From the small window, daylight was bleeding into the room, natural light chasing away the gloom of the sleepy space but fading just a few feet from the window. That was one thing she liked about this apartment; the blackout blinds. Aside from solid nights of sleep, there wasn't much else with which she was enamoured.
When she had arrived back from the dinner with Regina and Henry the night before, an overwhelming sense of sadness had swept over her. She had half a mind to turn on her heels and return to the family home, begging Regina to let her sleep in the guest room, if not the master suite. But she'd forced herself to take a deep breath and step away from the door. Another deep breath, and she'd shucked her shoes and dumped her bag. Finally she found herself in her bathroom, ignoring the fine layer of dust which reminded her that she needed to clean. Teeth brushed, pjs on, in bed. And yet she still felt a niggling urge telling her to get back up and run back to Regina, to where she belonged.
This morning that urge remained. She wanted nothing more than to head straight back to Regina and Henry. Well, that wasn't true. In an ideal world, she would be waking up next to Regina then they'd walking downstairs together to make their son breakfast. But that wasn't happening. Instead, she was alone. Because of her own stupid mistake.
It crept, unbidden, into her mind. Well, a low level awareness was always there, to be fair. That was the very nature of addiction. But this wasn't that. Emma felt a clench in her gut as the tingling desire, urge, motivation made itself known in a familiar fizzing on the edges of her brain.
"Fuck off," Emma muttered to herself, rolling onto her side and punching the pillow beneath her head, trying to get more comfortable. The clock on the bedside told her it was only just past seven in the morning. It was Sunday. That meant she didn't need to get up for any reason. Going back to sleep was the best option, particularly when it came to the urges she was feeling stirring deep inside her.
She closed her eyes, thinking back to the dinner the previous night, trying to distract herself from the ever-stronger niggling.
"Mom! Emma's here!" Henry bellowed back down the hallway as he grinned at the blonde woman standing on the porch.
"Hi kid, how was the rest of your afternoon?" Emma asked as she followed her son inside her former home.
"Mom made me do homework," the boy pouted, as if it was the cruellest act he could imagine a parent committing against a child.
"Well, you are going back to school in two days and you have missed three days of learning, so I don't think that's an unreasonable request, is it? Plus, you did have ice cream earlier so you can't argue that your life is terrible, right?"
Henry pouted. "Yeah but I hate homework. It was geography. I hate geography."
"But geography is important. You need to know where things are in the world and how communities live, right?"
"I can just Google that stuff," Henry shrugged. "Like if I wanna know the capital of France, I can just ask Siri."
"Henry, please tell me you already know the capital of France," Emma sighed, suddenly worrying about how much technology was going to be relied on by Henry's generation for what she would consider general knowledge.
"Duh, Ma, it's Paris, I'm not an idiot. But my point remains; Google is so much easier than learning."
"I fear for the future of quiz nights the world over," Emma lamented as she entered the kitchen to see Regina already busy getting dinner ready.
"Me too," Regina said over her shoulder, having overheard most of the conversation between mother and son. "Henry, can you please lay the table?"
The pre-teen looked as if he was about to argue but a look from Emma made him fall silent and he set about carrying out his task. Emma, meanwhile, made her way over to Regina.
"Hi," she said, pausing in her steps with a metre between herself and the brunette.
Regina raised an eyebrow. "Hello, are you coming closer?" she asked, looking at the gap between the two of them. Emma glanced behind her towards Henry. "I think he knows we kiss, dear, after what he heard last night," Regina chuckled.
Although the memory of the fact that their son had overheard their love making the night before made Emma flush, she nevertheless stepped forwards and kissed Regina lightly. Not much would stop Emma from kissing Regina, to be fair. But they were still navigating the new boundaries of their new relationship status.
"I brought this," Emma said, placing a bottle of wine on the side. "It's the one you like."
"Thanks," Regina replied, "but you didn't need to bring anything."
"It's customary to bring something when people invite you for dinner," Emma pointed out.
"Yes but it's not customary for a wife to invite their wife for dinner in their marital home. I think there's nothing particularly normal or customary about what we're doing. So let's ignore the rules and just do what feels right for us, ok?"
"So, are you saying you don't want the wine?" Emma asked, reaching out to pick up the bottle with a smirk.
"No," Regina said quickly, shooting out her hand to grip Emma's wrist. "No, um, you can leave the wine. You're right, I do like that one. Thank you, it was very generous."
Emma grinned at the woman who was now chuckling too and couldn't resist giving her another kiss which didn't break until their son groaned behind them and muttered something about going to throw up.
"Our son is charming," Regina mused as she turned around to find the kitchen empty and the dining table laid but rather untidy.
"Well, let's savour this time. Before we know it, we'll be walking surreptitiously past his bedroom door to make sure he's not doing anything with his high school girlfriend which will make us grandparents at the age of forty."
"Oh goodness, don't say that!" Regina exclaimed, aghast. "I am so not ready to be a grandparent. Or even thinking about the fact that our son is going to start dating. Can we move on to another subject?"
"Sure, can I help with dinner? What are we having?"
"I'm almost done, thanks," Regina replied. She had been cooking for over an hour and was just putting the final touches to the salad to accompany the main dish. "And we're having your favourite, of course."
Emma grinned widely. "Thanks! Hey, and thanks for inviting me too. I really appreciate it. The thought of sitting in that apartment on my own tonight was not appealing."
"The thought of you sitting in that apartment on your own tonight was not appealing to me either. No offence but that place isn't exactly a bachelorette pad."
"I don't think I wanted somewhere nice," Emma admitted. "I think I wanted to punish myself and my stupidity by getting a bit of a shithole. I felt like I didn't deserve anywhere remotely nice after what I'd done. Plus, I wanted somewhere super cheap so that I could save as much money as possible to, you know, pay back the … fund."
She glanced towards the door of the kitchen, wondering whether her son was within earshot. She still wasn't ready to confess to her son what she had done.
"Well, I suppose that's another factor we need to think about with regards to our relationship," Regina said as she carried over the salad to the dining table. "Moving back in here would save you money."
"I mean, you know I'd move back in here tonight if we thought it was the right thing for our relationship, but I thought we'd decided that we're not there yet, right?"
"I think we need to make sure we don't move too fast. Much as we both want to be back in the same house, if we're both not ready, I think rushing into that is going to be a mistake."
"I agree. And I'm not pushing you, I promise. When we both feel like we're ready, we'll talk."
"Exactly," Regina smiled. "And, just to let you know, I don't think it's going to take too long, from my perspective. As long as we attend some more therapy sessions with Archie and those continue to be useful. We need to keep communicating, right? That's the most important thing. Whatever we're feeling, whenever we're feeling it, we need to talk to each other."
Emma reached for her cell phone which was charging on her bedside table. She unplugged it and swiped it open, fingers quickly tapping to what she was looking for.
"Hello?"
Regina's sleepy voice answered after just a few rings.
"It's me," Emma said. "Did I wake you?"
"Um, sort of but it's ok. Why are you awake so early?"
"No idea," Emma said, rolling onto her back and settling into her mattress, already feeling more relaxed and calm at the sound of her wife's voice.
"Are you ok?"
"No," Emma admitted. "And actually, I do know why I'm awake. Or at least why I couldn't go back to sleep after waking up early like I usually would."
"What's wrong?"
Emma tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. The thought of saying it out loud made it too real. It was too confronting. An admission that she wasn't quite as far along in her journey towards recovery as she had made out. But she knew she had to say something. She could hear Regina's on the other end of the phone, her breath becoming a little more audible. She was nervous, concerned, unsure what Emma was about to say or confess. Emma knew she needed to put the woman out of her suspense.
"I'm thinking about gambling," she said at last. "I've not done it," she added quickly. "But I'm thinking about it. Not thinking about gambling as in planning a trip to the betting shop or anything. It's just on my mind. I can't really describe it. I guess it's like a niggling feeling which I can't shake. It's my brain telling me to gamble but I know I shouldn't yet I also have this inbuilt belief that gambling will make me happy. I know it won't, but that's just something which my brain tells me. Anyway, yeah, I woke up this morning and that niggling feeling which I've not felt in weeks was back."
"Ok," Regina said slowly. "Thank you for telling me, firstly."
"I knew I needed to," Emma said. "After everything we've been talking about over the past few days, I knew I couldn't not tell you."
"Thank you, I appreciate that. Um, can I do anything to help? What do you need?"
"I need a meeting," Emma shrugged. "There's one at the town hall at nine this morning. I'll go to that."
"Good, that's good, Emma. I'm proud of you."
Emma snorted. "Yeah right. How can you be proud of me? I'm supposed to be turning my life around and three days after we start working on our relationship and I'm already tempted to go back to what fucked up our marriage in the first place. That's hardly something to be proud of."
"I'm proud of you for telling me," Regina replied, ignoring the blonde's dismissive attitude. "I'm proud of the fact that you recognised what you're feeling and addressed it head on rather than pretending it wasn't happening or even succumbing to the temptation. I'm proud of you for knowing when and where the next meeting is happening. I'm proud of you for fighting this disease and for resisting the addiction. I'm so proud of you, Emma, never forget that, ok?"
The blonde felt tears spill over from her eyes as the woman spoke, the love and support flowing through the phone and filling her up. "Thank you," Emma whispered. "You have no idea how much that means to me."
"And you have no idea how much it means to me that you called and talked to me about this. I know it's something which causes you embarrassment even though addiction is nothing to be embarrassed about. So the fact that you confided in me means a huge amount. It tells me that you trust me and also tells me that you think I can be of help and support."
"I do trust you and you are helpful," Emma urged. "I know I made a mistake before when I didn't tell you what was going on sooner. I'm not going to make that mistake again, Regina. This is something we're going to have to live with. My addiction, I mean. While I want nothing more than for it to disappear from my life forever, I know that's unrealistic. It's a part of me which means it's a part of all my relationships. And I know that the only way for us to move forwards is for us to face it head on. So yeah, when I realised that I was feeling the urge to gamble this morning, I called you."
"Good," Regina said. "Keep calling. Day or night. Whenever you need me. And one day, not too far in the future, you'll just have to roll over in our bed and slide your arm around my waist and whisper in my ear how you're feeling. We'll get there, Emma. We'll get back to where we were just as long as we keep this communication going."
Emma smiled and rolled over, spreading an arm out to the side of the bed which would have been Regina's. "I love you."
"I love you too. Do you want me to come with you to the meeting today?" she asked.
"No, I'll be ok. Thanks though. I'll call you afterwards."
"Ok, good. Well, if you change your mind just call. And if you need to talk, I'm free all day."
"I'll call, I promise," Emma replied.
"I trust you."
The stale coffee made Emma purse her lips and place the almost full cup back down on the table. When would she learn that the coffee at these places were terrible? She reached for a bear claw instead to cover up the bitter taste in her mouth. All around her was the low level murmur of other gambling addicts, talking in small groups or pairs as always happened after a meeting. Emma, however, didn't feel much like hanging around. She bid farewell to the group leader, waved at her sponsor and headed for the exit.
As she stepped outside into the street, she squinted at the sunshine which had appeared since she'd entered the Town Hall an hour earlier. The grey skies which had started the morning had been burned away and a warm spring day was developing. Taking another bite of her bear claw, she headed off down the sidewalk towards her apartment. But she had only gone a few yards when she stopped short.
Eyebrows raised. Then her brow furrowed as she took in what she was seeing. Looking both ways, she crossed the quiet street as the car window was wound down.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, leaning on the sleek black Mercedes.
"I was dropping Henry off at Peter's house for a play date and I was passing the town hall, so I figured I'd wait for you to finish your meeting. I thought we could go for coffee," Regina replied, pointing down the street to a café the two women had frequented countless times during their marriage.
"Coffee? So, you're not checking up on me?"
Now it was Regina's turn to look confused. "What? No, I was -"
"Stalking me to see if I really did go to the meeting? What, did you not trust me to keep to my word? Did you expect to find me in some underground Casino, gambling away my future?"
The younger woman was already walking away from the car as she spoke and Regina threw the door open, running after her as she stormed down the street. "Emma, wait! You've got this all wrong. Please, stop. Emma!" she cried out, grabbing the blonde's hand and forcing her to stop marching.
"I thought this relationship was supposed to be based on trust," Emma spat. "I thought the thing which we needed to rebuild was our trust in each other."
"I do trust you," Regina said, placing herself on the sidewalk in front of the blonde, blocking the way back to that crummy apartment. "I do trust you, Emma. Honestly, I wasn't waiting out here to see if you had gone to the meeting. Come on, if I had wanted to spy on you, why would I have parked right where you would have to see me as you walk home? I'm not an FBI agent but you've made me sit through enough cop shows to know that surveilling someone doesn't generally mean parking right in the path, especially not in a vehicle the person you're supposedly stalking is insured to drive. Emma, please, you have to believe me," Regina finished with a pleading look up at the blonde who still appeared angry.
"You're really not stalking me?"
Regina resisted the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the question. "No, sweetheart. I was here to meet you after your meeting and take you out for brunch. I guessed that you hadn't eaten breakfast and I also assumed that you'd be filling yourself up with bad pastries." She gestured to the half-eaten bear claw. "I promise you, I just wanted to be here to greet you. I'm sorry if I misjudged the gesture or if I overstepped. If you're busy or don't feel like talking, I'll head home, no hard feelings."
The anger and indignation visibly faded from the blonde as she listened to Regina, to be replaced by sheepish embarrassment at the conclusion to which she had jumped. "I mean, this bear claw is good but I suppose I could find some room for brunch."
Regina smiled. "Great, and you can tell me about the meeting. Or not, if you prefer to keep their contents private. Whatever you want to tell me or not tell me, I'll understand."
"I'll tell you everything, I promise," Emma said, returning Regina's grin. "But first, can we get some good coffee? The stuff they serve in there tastes like racoon piss."
"I'm not even going to ask how that analogy popped into your head," Regina chuckled, reaching for Emma's hand and threading their fingers together before setting off down the street.
A/N: another step forwards for our ladies!