"You're sure you don't mind watching it again? I heard it's one of the scariest movies of all time."

"Well, I wouldn't say it's the scariest, but it's definitely scary. I can handle it," Emma says confidently into the phone as she pulls into the parking lot of her friend's apartment building. "Can you?"

"Are you kidding? I love scary movies. I was thrilled you suggested it for our date. If I get too scared though, I wouldn't mind you wrapping your arms around me to comfort me," he says in a flirty tone.

Emma rolls her eyes and forces a laugh. "Believe me, after the dressing room scene, you'll need to be held."

"Really? What happens during the dressing room scene—actually, don't answer that. No spoilers."

"I promise, no spoilers."

"Okay, do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, that's okay, I'll just talk your ear off in the car."

He chuckles. "Hey, I don't mind. I like a woman who speaks her mind. My ex was always so quiet and reserved. She never told me what she was thinking and it drove me nuts. I'm not a mindreader."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that with me," Emma claims, suppressing a mischievous tone as she shuts off the engine. "I don't mind making a little noise. Or a lot of noise when necessary," she adds in a seductive tone. "I do have to warn you, though, I can get a little too vocal at times."

"Are you kidding? I love a vocal woman. It means she's not afraid to express herself. You can get vocal with me anytime, baby doll."

Emma can hear him winking over the phone and has to refrain from rolling her eyes again, or vomiting, as she gets out of the car and slams the door shut. They haven't been on one date yet and he's already calling her baby doll. "I'll meet you at the cinema, say 7:15?"

"Great. Can't wait. See you then."

"I can't either." This will be the second time today she's been to the cinema to see this damn movie. In fact, she just came from there, but hey, she has to be prepared for tonight. "I'm looking forward to our date," she exclaims promptly, striding down the walkway to the apartment building while forcing a small smile to make her enthusiasm sound believable. A smile that immediately disappears once she ends the call and throws the phone in her purse. Her grandmother always said, people can hear a smile through the telephone, so always greet them with a smile. She was referring to business calls, especially when she was dealing with tenants of either rental houses or apartment buildings she owned, who couldn't (or didn't like to) pay their rent on time. In this case, however, it's a business call her grandmother would've never imagined if she were still alive. Emma sashays up the porch steps, and as she enters the key code to the building, her phone dings in her purse. She opens the door while digging into her bag to retrieve it.

MM: Are you here yet?

Emma rolls her eyes, a smile lighting up her face, and this time it's a genuine one, despite being slightly annoyed. She'd just talked to her friend ten minutes ago on her way here, but Mary Margaret said she had some big news to share, and that woman can only withhold information for so long. Especially if she's super excited, which is how she sounded over the phone. Emma looks up briefly to see the elevator doors sliding open before her eyes quickly return to her screen. She starts typing a message as she races to the elevator before it closes again.

"Ooof." Her phone falls from her hands and hits the carpeted floor of the lobby as she slams into a solid mass.

Strong hands are gripping her arms to keep her from falling and she looks up, her gaze connecting with the most drowning, most mesmerizing, most beautiful deep ocean blue eyes she's ever seen in her life. She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her lungs, but it's not because of the collision.

"Easy, love." A smooth British accent fills her ears, tearing her from the hypnotic trance she's in.

It's not until she peels her eyes from his when she notices the charming grin gracing a pair of perfectly soft, exquisite looking lips. She also notices he's standing in the elevator entrance to keep the doors from closing. Even when he releases her arms to bend over and pick something up from the floor, he kicks back his foot to hold the doors open. After he rises, he places a firm hand on the elevator entrance while her phone is extended to her with the other hand.

Right. Her phone. She had temporarily forgotten she had dropped it during the collision.

"Uh… sorry, I..." she stutters as she takes the device, her heart fluttering as her fingertips lightly brush his. She shakes her head to get a grip on reality again because for some goddamn reason, her voice decided to betray her. But maybe it's because she has a modest-sized list of qualities she finds attractive in a man, and his distinguishable qualities have so far checked all of her boxes.

Blue eyes that rival the beauty of the ocean. Check.

A heart-melting (or panty-melting, or in this case both) smile. Check.

Sexy British lilt. Check.

Messy dark hair that looks like he's just been thoroughly fucked while remaining picture perfect. Check.

Cologne with a hint of spice that she can detect as she passes him to step onto the elevator; it's a subtle fragrance, yet very enticing. Check.

A gentleman based on the assumption that he's been holding the door open for her since he saw her rushing for the elevator. Check.

Scruff on his chin that she imagines would feel amazing on her lips (or between her thighs). Check, check and check.

"Thank you. I guess I shouldn't be texting and walking," she says with a strangled laugh as she presses the button of her floor, watching it light to avoid getting lost in his eyes again. To ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Which is stupid because she never gets intimidated by men. She has a mile-high fortress surrounding her heart and she prefers to keep it that way.

"Aye, that might be a good idea," he chuckles, scratching behind his ear in a rather adorable manner as he casually leans against the elevator gate. And of course, his laugh is so fucking sexy, she has to add it to her list.

His gaze flickers to the lit-up button and back to her eyes as he lifts a curious brow. "What unit are you heading to?"

"What are you, a stalker?" she accuses as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Just curious is all," he answers, raising his hands defensively. "You're going to the same floor I came from. If I were a stalker, I wouldn't be a very good one, considering I asked you where you lived instead of sneaking around and following you, now would I?"

Emma opens her mouth to respond, but before she gets the chance, her phone is dinging in her hand as another incoming text from Mary Margaret appears, reminding her she never finished replying to the previous message.

MM: You must still be driving so don't respond. See you soon!

Emma laughs and shakes her head, holding up her phone screen to the handsome stranger. "This is why I was texting while walking. I swear my friend has a mini heart attack whenever I don't respond right away. Even though her apartment is where I'm heading," she adds, vaguely answering his question.

He glances at the screen briefly before meeting her gaze again, and she turns the phone around and lowers it in front of her again.

"Ah, I see. Guess you should go then. Wouldn't want her to have a heart attack on my account."

She glances at the elevator entrance he's still leaning against. "Might be easier if you stepped back so the doors can close."

"Right. My apologies, love," he says with a bashful smile, his cheeks painted with a slight blush. "As you wish." With that, he steps back into the lobby, letting the doors slide shut.

Her eyes are locked with his until the doors are completely closed, and even then, she's still staring at the doors as though trying to burn a hole in them with her laser stare. She immediately feels a pang of regret from no longer being able to drown in those ocean blue eyes.

Emma blinks a few times to pull herself back to reality. The one where she's very single and very much not looking for a man. Men are trouble, and that's all they're good for.

The elevator reaches the eleventh floor and Emma steps off, heading to Mary Margaret's apartment before she receives another text from her friend.

She uses her key to enter the apartment and finds Mary Margaret sitting across from her boyfriend, both of them drinking what Emma only assumes is hot cocoa with whip cream and cinnamon. See, that's what normal couples are supposed to do. Not sitting on the same side of the table. Mary Margaret and David may not be married, but they sure act like they are.

"Hi, Emma," David greets her warmly, causing Mary Margaret to spin her head around.

"Oh good, you're here!" The brunette springs up from her seat and goes around the table. She takes her boyfriend's hand and tugs him toward the living room, practically bouncing up and down as she directs Emma to the sofa, looking like she's about to combust at any moment. "Have a seat, Emma, there's something we have to tell you."

Emma narrows her eyes warily as she makes her way to the couch.

"Sit, sit, sit!" Mary Margaret chants in excitement as she and David stand in the center of the living room, waiting for Emma to have a seat.

Emma lifts a brow and quickly sits down. "What's going on? Did the Evil Queen and Wicked Witch finally move out?"

Mary Margaret's exuberant smile dims, but only slightly. "I wish."

Regina and her sister, Zelena, live in the unit directly below them, and every time they hear so much as a footstep above them, Zelena has a broom in her hand, banging on the ceiling with the end of the stick, and Regina is always calling the cops when she hears music; and not even loud music at that, but the walls are paper-thin. Any day they don't pay Mary Margaret or David a visit about the noise is a very rare and very good day. Hence the monikers, Evil Queen and Wicked Witch.

"No, actually, it's even better than that," Mary Margaret beams as she and David exchange adoring looks before reverting their eyes to Emma.

"Okay, what is it?" she laughs. Her friends' excitement is contagious.

Mary Margaret holds up her left hand and wiggles her fingers. "We're engaged!"

Emma's mouth falls open in excitement as she sees the gold band holding an emerald green stone. She's not shocked though, only surprised that it didn't happen sooner. She knew they would tie the knot one day, she just wondered how long they'd be able to wait.

Emma jumps up from her seat and takes Mary Margaret's hand, studying the engagement ring. "It's so beautiful." She draws each of them into a big hug. "Oh my God, I'm so happy for both of you!"

Mary Margaret lets out the huge sigh she had apparently been holding. "Phew, it feels so good to get that off my chest. I thought I was going to explode."

"I know," David and Emma say simultaneously.

"Jinx, poke you owe me a coke!" they both say.

"Ha, I said it first," Emma teases, pointing at him.

"Only by a millisecond."

"Alright, you two," Mary Margaret laughs. "Now that we got that out of the way, I wanted to ask you if you would be my maid of honor, Emma."

"Of course I will!" Emma replies enthusiastically and hugs Mary Margaret again.

"Oh, I'm so glad! And you know you have to bring a date to the wedding, right?" Mary Margaret adds as they break the hug.

Emma frowns. "Do I have to?"

"Emma, come on, it wouldn't kill you to go out and meet a guy for once."

"I do go out. In fact, I have a date tonight."

Mary Margaret scolds her. "Okay, one, you were hired to date him and two, our engagement dinner is tonight at 7:30 at the Radisson Plaza."

"Oh, well I can reschedule the date for tomorrow then," Emma assures them.

Mary Margaret sighs and shakes her head. "Emma, when are you going to stop trying to save relationships and start finding one for yourself, huh? You deserve to be happy, too."

"I am happy."

David crosses his arms over his chest and Mary Margaret places her hands on her hips.

"Are you really?" he asks.

"What are you, my parents?" Emma rolls her eyes and heads for the kitchen, her friends following behind her.

"We're just worried about you, that's all."

Emma grabs a box of Cheez-Its and turns around, digging into the box to scoop up a handful.

"Emma, don't eat too many, you'll spoil your appetite," David chides in a fatherly tone.

"Okay Dad," she teases and looks at Mary Margaret, continuing their conversation. "I'm happy with the way things are, okay? Some people need true love to make them happy; I only need my two best friends, a roof over my head and a job that pays the bills. And I have a very fulfilling job at that. I get to be Superwoman and swoop in and save the day," she says before shoveling the Cheez-Its in her mouth.

"Okay, but who's going to save you?" Mary Margaret asks with a raised brow. "Even Superwoman needs saving from time to time. Besides, I'd hardly call getting paid to go on dates with unavailable men fulfilling. Why can't you do something you actually enjoy, like flipping houses?"

"Okay, first of all, only I save me," she mumbles through a mouthful of food, pointing a clean finger at her chest. "And secondly, I need money to flip houses. To make money, I need to be Miss Fix-It. To be Miss Fix-It, I can't have a boyfriend. I mean, can you imagine me going on an actual date and the guy asking me what I do for a living? I can't exactly tell the truth and say, I fix relationships, so if you see me on a date with another guy, don't worry," Emma says cheekily with a flick of her hand, "his girlfriend is paying me to go out with him. You cool with that?"

"No, you definitely can't say that," Mary Margaret shakes her head. "Which is all the more reason why you need to stop this, Emma," she pleads, resting a gentle hand on Emma's arm. "You know we support you and what you're doing, but most importantly, we support your well-being."

"I know, I know," Emma sighs in exasperation, closing the box and pulling away from Mary Margaret to return it to the pantry. She sucks the powdered cheese remnants from her fingers before washing her hands. She's heard her friend's spiel many times before. "Even if I did start dating, what makes you think I'm going to find my Prince Charming like you did?"

David grins and wraps his arm around Mary Margaret, kissing her temple. "She sure did."

Mary Margaret blushes and smiles, turning her head to kiss his lips before looking at Emma again. "Look, if I can find love—hell if Ruby can find love—then so can you."

Emma cocks a brow at her friend as she dries her hands with a hand towel from the rack. "Ruby has a boyfriend?"

"Yes, she does. They've been dating for four months now."

Emma doesn't know much about the woman who lives down the hall, only that she tends to be a maneater, so Emma's kind of surprised to hear she's in a stable relationship. "Must be one hell of a guy."

"Yes, from what I hear, he is," Mary Margaret nods matter of factly.

"Believe me, I've heard too much," David groans.

"You would get along famously with him, Emma," Mary Margaret adds, ignoring her fiance's comment. "He's an architect. You won't get to meet him tonight though, he had to work."

Emma shrugs, unimpressed. "So, he's an architect, big deal."

Mary Margaret gently scolds her. "The point is, she's happy. You can be, too."

Emma turns from the sink, folding her arms over her chest. "Yeah, and how long would that happiness last for me? For five seconds—long enough to get my heart shattered into a million pieces? No thanks." She turns to leave the kitchen.

"Emma, not all men are like Neal," David says, stopping Emma in her tracks. She spins around to face them again.

"And not all relationships end with a broken heart," Mary Margaret adds.

"Yes, they do," Emma claims adamantly. "Even when someone is lucky enough to find their true love and live happily ever after, one of them will die first, eventually. People either leave a lonely life when they die or they leave their loved ones with a broken heart. Sound like happiness to you?"

"Emma…" David tries to get her to listen with a pained expression on his face, but Emma cuts him off.

"I'm sorry," she sighs, glancing between them. "Today's supposed to be a happy one. You just got engaged and I don't want to drag you two down with my miserable theories on love, okay? So can we just drop it?"

Mary Margaret offers a small smile and a nod. "Okay, sorry, Emma. We didn't mean to make you upset. We just love you and we care about you, you know that right?"

"Of course I do," Emma says with a frail smile. "I love you both, too."

"Well, how about we all get ready for tonight. Are you sure you don't mind changing your plans?" David asks.

Emma scoffs and waves off his question with a flick of her hand. "Please, how often do my two best friends in the world get engaged?"

"Well, hopefully once," David chuckles.

Emma points a warning finger at them. "It better be only once because I can't play Miss Fix-It for you, MM, since David here already knows about my operation."

Mary Margaret laughs and wraps her arms around the back of David's neck. "You won't have to worry about that, Emma, trust me."

David grins and wraps his arms around her, kissing her on the lips.

Emma sticks a finger in her mouth, making a gagging motion as she grabs her purse from the table with her other hand. "Okay, that's my cue to leave," she laughs. "I'll be back at seven." She doesn't give them a chance to answer before she's out the door.


"This movie is so great, you're going to love it," Emma says enthusiastically as she walks with her date, holding a bowl of popcorn. "Thank you for paying for my ticket and the snacks."

"It's not a problem. I'm not against women paying, just to clarify, I just think it's the gentlemanly thing to do, you know?"

"You're definitely a gentleman, Greg, and I love that in man," she says, making him blush. "Can you hold this for a sec?" She shoves the bowl into his chest before he can answer.

"Sure," he says with a chuckle, even though he's already holding it.

Emma opens the box of Milk Duds and pours them over the popcorn. "You don't mind, do you? I love to let the Milk Duds melt over the popcorn, it's so good."

"No, it's fine. I told you, I like a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to voice it."

Emma retrieves the bowl and starts munching on the popcorn before the chocolate gets a chance to melt. "Mmmm, I love how buttery this place makes their popcorn. It's so good, don't you agree?"

"I haven't tried their—"

Before he gets a chance to finish, Emma shoves a few popcorn kernels in his mouth. "It's good, right?"

"Mmhmm," Greg answers with a nod as he covers his mouth and starts chewing.

"Thank you again for agreeing to reschedule the date," she says as they make their way toward the theater. "As I said, I couldn't miss the engagement dinner, they're my best friends."

"I told you it's no problem," he says, waving off her words. "I wouldn't want you to miss that."

"Oh, I would never miss their engagement dinner, they're just so important to me. I've had friends before, but no one as loyal as them, and certainly no one willing to stick around as long as MM. She and I have been best friends since Kindergarten, and I have no idea what I would do without her. We do everything together. MM and I even lived together for five years," Emma rambles on and on, even when they enter the theater. She looks over and has to fight off a smirk when she sees how slightly irritated her date is. She's been talking his ear off since they met outside the theater. "Where would you like to sit? I really like the front row because I like being right in front of the action, but I also like sitting in the back because there's more privacy," she snorts and elbows him in the stomach, "if you know what I mean," she winks at him.

"The middle's fine," he groans, rubbing his stomach like she had injured him, and they make their way to the middle, finding two available seats.

Her eyes widen in concern. "Oh, I didn't hurt you, did I? Sometimes I forget how strong I am for my size. I work out at the gym—"

"I'm fine," he says curtly, holding up his hand to silence her. "Let's just sit, shall we?"

"Okay," Emma says in mock defense and drops into her chair. "Oh, this just won't do. We're right under the vent and I'm afraid I'll get too chilly. Can we move to the back?"

"Fine," he grumbles through gritted teeth, and they get up and move to the last row.

Emma chews on her popcorn rather loudly and comments throughout the previews, saying things like, "Ooooh, that looks like a good one," or "That looks so awful, I'll be missing that one," or she'll joke and make fun of it and laugh hysterically, even when no one else is laughing.

She thought this particular job would be difficult for her, considering she's no Chatty Cathy, but it feels rather freeing saying everything that comes to mind. Every time a thought enters her brain that might annoy him, she speaks it out loud.

When the movie begins, Greg leans in, whispering, "Okay, now it's time to be quiet."

Emma frowns at him, continuing to obnoxiously chew her popcorn as she faces the screen and slumps back in her chair.

She waits approximately five minutes, after the opening credits are over, until she starts talking again. "This movie is so scary," she whispers loudly, her eyes fixed on the screen. "You're gonna be on the edge of your seat the whole time."

"Okay, let's watch the movie," he whispers back.

"Okay."

She watches the film intently, even though she's extremely bored. She just watched this movie two days ago, so she knows the surprises, she's already experienced the spine chilling moments and most importantly, she knows who the mystery killer is. "Oh my God, that guy's an asshole!" she shouts, throwing a couple of popcorn kernels toward the screen; they land in the hair of some lady, who's completely unaware.

As Emma chokes back a laugh, she sees out the corner of her eye Greg cowering in his seat, burying his face in his hands. Whether he's trying to hide his embarrassment or hiding his face so no one recognizes him, she's not sure. She smirks briefly and grabs his wrist, pulling his hand away. "You've gotta see this part, it's getting good."

He lowers his other hand, sighing in exasperation, and she can tell he's doing his best to maintain his composure.

The dressing room scene she told him about is close and she points at the murderer, unbeknownst to any first-time viewers when an onscreen actress invites him into her room. "Don't trust him! He's the killer!"

"Shhhhhh!" someone shushes her from a few seats ahead.

"You shush," Emma mumbles and sits back with a scowl on her face.

The theater is silent again, other than the soft conversation from the movie, when the most suspenseful part is about to begin. Knowing this before any excitement happens during the scene, Emma springs to the edge of her seat and screams, "Ruuuuuun! He's gonna slash your throat! Oh my God, run, Kelly, run!"

"I can't believe you got us kicked out of the theater!" Greg shouts when they reach her car.

He looks extremely pissed. For good reason.

Her eyes fill up with tears and her bottom lip quivers like she's about to cry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." She turns around and starts sobbing in her hands. Or at least, she makes it look that way. In reality, she's squirting her cheeks with water from an eyedropper to make it look like she's crying.

He sighs and puts a gentle hand on her back. "Please, don't cry. I just—I can't…" he begins, fumbling for words.

After discreetly slipping the dropper back in her clutch purse, she wipes at her fake tears with her hand and turns around, glaring at him. "You can't what?"

He stares at her for a few seconds, apology flickering in his eyes. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. You seem really great, but—"

"But what?" she demands, her sadness quickly replaced by anger.

"But you talk too damn much," he answers bluntly.

Emma slaps him in the face. "You're an asshole!" She spins on her heels and gets in her car.

"Wait, I'm sorry!" he shouts after her, but she slams the door in his face and starts the engine. He throws up his arms in defeat and walks away, giving Emma the opportunity to retrieve her phone from her purse and type out a text.

Emma: Go.

She peels away from the curb and heads down Maple Street, making a right-hand turn. She proceeds around the block and stops just before she reaches Maple Street again and pulls to the curb before parking and pulling out her binoculars. She watches as Tamara crosses the street several feet ahead. She watches as Greg's face lights up when he sees his ex-girlfriend. They have a reunion hug and chat for a few minutes. He appears to be completely relieved and makes hand gestures and faces as he talks, like he's telling her about his awful date as she listens intently, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. They end up walking down the street, his arm around her as she rests her head on his shoulder.

Emma smiles in success as she lowers the binoculars, but her smile slowly fades. It's so satisfying when she brings a couple back together, but honestly, it hurts like hell in the end. Watching the happy couple walk off into the sunset is a stark reminder of what she doesn't have and probably never will. It's a reminder of the large, gaping void in her heart.

Maybe Mary Margaret and David were right. If they can be happy, then why can't she? Why does she always have to play Miss Fix-It? Why can't she, for once in her life, have her own love story instead of fixing the ones other people had initially failed at? Emma sighs and trails away from the curb.

Maybe someday.

For now, she wonders if she'll ever see the hot, British guy again. She curses herself for not getting his name. If she knew his name, then she could ask Mary Margaret and David if either of them know him, or whether he lives there or was just visiting one of the tenants.

She hasn't had sex in far too long, so maybe that's why she's feeling so lonely. She's not looking for love, just a good, satisfying fuck with a warm-blooded male. More specifically, with the hot British guy she ran into.

But who knows, maybe she'll run into him again.


Two Months Later….

She still hasn't seen the hot British guy since that day she bumped into him. Which is a shame because she's so sexually frustrated, especially since she's been fantasizing about him this whole time. She could easily invite some other guy to her bed, but she has a feeling the hot British guy is the only one capable of scratching her itch. He's the only thing she's craved for two damn months. Yes, hot, steamy sex, with the hot British guy, her legs thrown around his hips, ginger scruff dragging along her neck as he drives into her is exactly what she needs right now. Emma bites her bottom lip thinking about it as the elevator ascends to the eleventh floor. She hears the ding when it stops, and the doors slide open.

She goes to Mary Margaret's apartment, wondering what to expect. All she said in the text was,

MM: Can you come over? It's an emergency.

At first, Emma had panicked and replied back, expressing her concerns, but Mary Margaret assured her she and David were fine and that it wasn't a life or death situation. She still wouldn't divulge any information other than that.

When Emma uses her key to unlock the door, she finds Ruby crying on the sofa with Mary Margaret's arms around her, trying to console her.

"What happened?" Emma asks in concern as she sets her bag on an end table.

"Ruby was dumped," Mary Margaret answers as she strokes Ruby's hair.

The sobs only grow in volume and intensity, and she's visibly shaking as her friend tries to calm her.

"It's okay, Rubes, everything will be okay," Mary Margaret coos.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Emma offers her condolences as she approaches the couch.

Mary Margaret tilts her head toward the other side of the sofa. "Emma, please have a seat."

"Okay," she says skittishly and takes a seat next to Ruby. She's not sure why Mary Margaret invited her here at this time, considering she doesn't know Ruby very well. She's really only spoken to Ruby a few times since she moved into the apartment building last year. "So, um… if you don't mind me asking… why did he break up with you?" she asks Ruby.

Ruby lifts her head from Mary Margaret's shoulder and wipes away her tears with a Kleenex. She blows her nose before shifting in her seat to turn toward Emma, her eyes red and swollen. "Because I'm an idiot." She bursts into a fit of tears again and buries her face in her hands. Emma places her palm on the woman's back, moving her hand in soothing circles as she glances up at Mary Margaret, who's torn expression sends an uneasy feeling to Emma's gut. Something tells her she shouldn't have asked. "It's okay, you can tell me…"

Ruby sniffles and dabs her cheeks with the tissue. "Well, um… I did something really dumb, Emma. I mean, this guy was so fucking perfect and I royally screwed things up with him." Ruby shakes her head, resting her hands in her lap as she stares at the tissues she's holding.

Emma's not sure what she's expecting. Maybe Ruby got too jealous or clingy or maybe she lied about something huge. Considering her history, Ruby doesn't seem like the type of woman who would try to rush the guy into marriage or having kids, so it probably wasn't that. In fact, maybe that's why the guy dumped her. Maybe he proposed, she said no and he didn't want to be with someone who wasn't ready to settle down with him.

"Come on, whatever you did couldn't have been that bad," Emma coaxes softly, but she has a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Oh it is, trust me. And now his roommate says he's moving back to England once his lease is up."

Wow, he's fleeing the country to get away from her? Okay, maybe it's worse than Emma thought.

Ruby sucks in a sharp breath and tells Emma the one thing that could possibly make her stomach churn, the memories of her own failed relationship hitting her like a tidal wave. "He caught me in bed with someone else."

Okay, Emma was wrong; it's way worse than she thought. The expression on her face must be saying way too much because after Ruby catches the look on her face, she bursts into tears again. Emma politely extends her arms to Ruby, even though it's very difficult for her to feel sorry for this woman, considering she was once cheated on, herself. Her blood burns as she thinks of her cheating bastard of an ex-husband. She sure as hell would never take him back. Not in a million years.

She's towed from her unpleasant thoughts when Ruby starts wailing so loudly, she's sure the Wicked Witch and Evil Queen can hear her.

"Oh God, what have I done?! I cheated on Killian!"