"Any news from Regina?" Emma casually inquires with her head hanging low while she focuses on cutting up the tomatoes and attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible.
A small exhale from Cora's nostrils breathes out a tiny laugh, but she pretends to sound just as disinterested as Emma did.
"No dear, I haven't heard from Regina since I last spoke to her. I have tried several times to contact her, but she's either avoiding me or extremely busy during this time," she enlightens Emma on her daughter's status, but there's still an eerie, uncomfortable vibe pulsating from the older woman that concerns her.
A wave of nausea wracks her body and she knows it has nothing to do with her baby boy and everything to do with a seductive brunette. She wants to hold this older woman for ransom until someone blurts out the truth about Regina. She hates not knowing, but what she hates more, is this weird, awkward tension the older couple gives off whenever Regina is mentioned.
"Welp, I guess we will find out in two days if she arrives or not," Emma mumbles, shrugging to keep up her appearances of unaffected, even though her palms are beginning to sweat at just the thought of Regina being there again.
"I guess so..." Cora trails off as her knife begins to drum a faster rhythm against the cutting board.
Something horrifying is flashing before the older woman's eyes and Emma wishes she could sneak a peek. Cora abuses the garlic, chopping aggressively as she takes out all her anguish about the situation and Emma stares dumbfounded by the behavior, but she chooses not to comment because that will only further upset the woman since she cannot reveal what's upsetting her.
"So, um..." Emma figures she better distract her before she loses a finger. "I narrowed down my options for baby names," she tosses out the idea and hopes Cora latches on to stop the madness of her knife.
Instantly, the older woman stops chopping and turns to meet her gaze. Her eyes shine brightly with love beating tiny little hearts while her smile stretches across her entire face.
"You have, dear?" Her voice is so light and fluffy that Emma finds herself chuckling in response and nodding enthusiastically.
"So, I was thinking Hunter or Flynn," she proudly states and watches in horror as Cora flinches. She tilts her head to the side as she examines the older woman who is hopelessly trying to mask her distaste in the baby names. "What?"
"Those are...unique..." she offers instead of blatantly rejecting the choices. Cora ignores her questioning look and proceeds with her chopping, in a much calmer manner this time.
"I like unique," she proudly admits and keeps her eyes glued to the side of Cora's face to gauge her reaction.
"Well, that's lovely, dear."
"You hate them," she flatly retorts feeling slightly defeated.
"No, no," Cora gently sets down her knife and takes Emma's hands into hers. "If that's what you like then I think they are wonderful. I am just older, and I'm not quite used to such bold names."
"And let me guess, you like names like my father, David or your husband, Henry," she deadpans as her face morphs into pure boredom.
"Both are very lovely names," Cora smirks and right there, all Emma can see is Regina's infamous evil smirk.
Her blood runs cold and freezes her body into a stupor as she just gapes at Cora. She hates after all this time the simplest gesture can remind her so much of Regina and she's a bumbling mess all over again. She just wishes the brunette would get the hell out of her head and allow her to live in peace.
"I heard my name," Henry cheerfully calls as he sweeps through the back door. The harsh snap of the screen door awakens her from her treacherous memories and allows her to thaw out.
"I was just telling Cora, I think I'm between Hunter and Flynn for the baby's name."
"Well, that's up to you, but remember Henry and David are both strong names. You could never go wrong with strong," Henry slyly argues as he retrieves a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
"Hunter and Flynn are very strong," she counters, prompting Cora to shake her head and Henry to chuckle softly to himself. "Are they really that bad?" She questions, but the older man who has quickly become a second father, interrupts her.
"No, no. We are just teasing. We are old and set in our ways," he laughs, strolling over to her side to place a sweet kiss to her temple for reassurance. "You choose what's best for you, either way, we will be spoiling that child rotten."
"This is true," Cora agrees with a warm smile gracing her soft features.
"Maybe I can do Henry or David as his middle name," she suggests as her right hand lays flat against the side of her tummy.
A small little kick meets her hand, generating a goofy grin to slap across her face. A soft sigh of contentment stirs in the back of her throat as her baby boy pushes his foot further into her hand. She gently caresses the area as her mind wonders if this is his foot, or elbow, maybe even his head?
"Is the boy kickboxing against your palm?" Henry curiously questions grasping her attention.
She peeks through her eyelashes at the sweet man and nods while a rush of excitement tingles through her blood. "Would you like to feel? He's really active right now."
"I would love to." He sets down his bottle of water onto the counter beside her as she reaches for his hand. "I haven't felt a baby kick since Regina," he reminisces while she lays his palm against the protruding extremity. Her son squirms inside, creating another kick right to Henry's palm. His big brown eyes light up, his smile spreads from ear to ear and a small gasp pushes passed his lips. "He's so strong," he chuckles just as Cora swats her husband's hand away.
"My turn, let me feel this little boy," she gushes, replacing the vacant spot with her warm, delicate palm.
"You feel that little boy all the time," Henry argues, inspiring a small giggle to fall from Emma's lips. She just absolutely loves when they bicker.
She misses Regina's bickering...
"That's because he already adores me, he knows who will spoil him," Cora teases while her palm gently rubs the baby boy inside.
Emma's heart melts and she wishes her mother could be there, but she knows that could never happen. Cora might be the only grandmother figure her son may ever see. Neal's mother left when he was just a small boy and well, actually she has no clue about Killian's parents. She wouldn't even know how to contact him if this is his son.
"I think he just knows you'll be his only grandma," Emma mindlessly rambles off without a second thought.
Cora freezes against her round bump, just as her watery eyes slowly meet Emma's. Those eyes, that resemble her daughter's, are glistening with un-shed tears as a kind, gentle smile consumes her face.
"Grandma?" Cora chokes out as her emotions gain control and she gazes into Emma's eyes with such hope and excitement.
"Well...yeah," she mutters, her eyes dropping back down to her son. She caresses his tiny limb and focuses on only him as she explains because she knows her hormones are going to take over and she will cry...yet again. "My mother is not here, and Neal's mother took off when he was really little and I have no clue about Killian..." she rambles and prays that someone will stop her, but neither one does. "So...you're the closest thing my son will ever have to a grandma," she quietly admits, choking back her emotions.
"Oh, honey," Cora exclaims as she wraps her arms around Emma's neck and sways back and forth rapidly. "You just made me the happiest woman alive." The petite woman squeezes her tight and continues rocking her aggressively. "This baby boy will forever be our grandson. You two will never be without," she vows, inspiring a few tears to escape glossy green eyes.
"I know you have your father, but can I be honorary grandfather as well," Henry questions shyly, provoking her to chuckle in response.
She slowly pulls away from the older woman and wipes away her happy hormonal tears. "Of course, Henry, you will be this little boy's grandparent as well," she declares and eagerly hugs the kind man as well.
Henry pats the back of her head as though she is a small child and she can't help as a few more tears trickle down her cheeks from the sweet moment.
"Okay, okay, no more tears," Henry laughs as they both pull away from the hug, laughing. "Let's finish up dinner and play some monopoly."
She smiles in return even though her stomach bottoms out from the mention of Regina's favorite game.
XXXXX
Her fingers tap against her screen as her teeth sink deeper and deeper into her bottom lip. She could call. She should call. She's an idiot. Her index finger presses the circle button once again to light up the screen while she contemplates her next move.
She could call.
She could call...and Regina could easily hang up on her. Or the woman could ask the reason behind her phone call. Or she could tell her to go to hell, do not pass go, and do not collect your two hundred dollars.
She should call.
She should call...and Regina should bitch her out for ignoring her for four months now. She should apologize and tell her that she hopes she is coming for the holidays. She should tell her that she's pregnant and that's why she pushed her away, before she arrives. She should be punched in the face for all the damage she caused.
She just needs to know if Regina will be coming for Christmas. The unknown is clawing at her insides and making her physically sick. She's sure this amount of stress isn't healthy for her baby, but she can't keep her mind off that sexy brunette. How could she not tell Cora if she is coming or not? Emma wonders if the older woman told her daughter, that she would be there and so Regina quickly declined, and Cora just can't tell her the truth. She wonders if Regina is avoiding Cora's calls because she doesn't have the heart to tell her mother, no, around Christmas time, all because of Emma.
She stares at her phone as though the device is hypnotizing her with black and white swirls. "Call, dammit, call!" She shouts at her phone to encourage herself to just make the stupid call and she somewhat also hopes that maybe, just maybe, Regina will call her.
Frustrations, with no one else but herself, bubbles burning hot just below her skin. Panic, regret, shame, all course violently through her blood and possesses her to whip her phone against the pillow. She can't just call her after all this time and ask if she is coming to visit or not. It's not fair of her to question when she was the one who ended things between them.
Her body falls back onto the bed as her palms presses firmly against her eyes to stop the inevitable headache that's sure to come. She sighs heavily, hoping she can breathe through the pain of a broken heart.
Subconsciously, her hands find their way to her baby bump. She slowly draws random patterns against her shirt and thinks of him. She wonders who he will look like. In her mind, she pictures a little boy with brown shaggy hair and big brown eyes, resembling Neal. In her heart, she hopes Neal is the father. She has known the man for so long and she knows he would never mistreat this beautiful baby boy.
If Killian is the father, she's concerned for her son's sake. She wonders if Killian would even want to be a part of the little boy's life. Killian leads a life of adventure, spontaneity, recklessness, fun, and she just doesn't see room for her son or for settling down. And she does want her son to have his father in his life.
She watches with amusement as her son pokes his little foot against her stomach. Her eyes are just as wide as her smile as she studies this tiny foot glide across the entire width of her stomach. The image is so surreal, and she's lost to the world. Her only focus and concern is for this little human that she is creating inside of her.
It's a weird concept to know that this little person is inside of her, growing, sleeping, playing and feeding off the nutrition she provides. It's something that she cannot truly comprehend just yet, despite of the massive lump in front of her. It's even weirder to know that soon this baby will no longer be inside of her and she won't be able to feel anything moving inside of her anymore. It's terrifying to know that once her son is born that she is responsible for another life for the rest of her life.
Her son kicks a little too aggressively, awakening her from her wandering mind. She smiles down upon her baby and begins speaking sweetly to her little boy.
"What do you think? Should we go visit Rocinante?" She cheerfully questions, earning herself another firm kick to her palm. "Alright bud, let mommy get her coat, because it's cold out there," she coos as she stands from the bed and retrieves her jacket.
She uses the wall for support as she slides each foot into her fuzzy boots. She places her new knit beanie on top of her head and exits the small addition, making sure to lock it back up for the Mills before she heads back to her place.
She thrusts her hands deep into her pockets to keep warm as she shuffles her boots toward the barn. She opens the large door and slips inside the slightly warm barn.
"Rocinante, you keeping warm buddy," she lovingly greets the horse, that has quickly become her best friend and the one she always seems to confide in.
She's not sure if it's because she is aware of the bond he shares with Regina and it helps her feel as though Regina's there or if it's because she knows he cannot slip up about the secrets she shares with him.
"Have you missed me?" She softly questions as her palm reaches out to graze his white nose. "Sorry, I haven't been around lately, I'm sure you're pissed at both Regina and I for not spending as much time with you as we did over the summer."
The large horse doesn't reply with the shake of his head or the familiar exhale from his snout like he normally does. Instead, he bows his head and grants her better access to pet him in which she happily obliges.
Her palm gently runs up his long, white patch, and then grazes the coarse fur back down. Her over-anxious nerves quickly settle and for the first time in the past few months, she can feel as though she has a chance to breathe again. There's a dreadful weight that's slowly lifting from her spirit and she swears the air surrounding her is fresher, crisper even. She inhales dramatically and ignores the foul stench of the barn.
"Emma?"