She's lost her mind, it's the only explanation for why she's heading up to Robin's office at the end of the day, set to ask him to agree to her outrageous proposal. She tells herself he probably won't even be at his office, and if he's not, it's a sign and she needs to let this go.
As the doors open she realizes she hasn't been up to eight since they took over, and it's completely different. The elevator opens to an open and inviting waiting room, comfortable chairs along the sage green walls, natural wood flooring, with smart looking information posters on the walls, that somehow match perfectly with all the decor and a desk that she assumes will house their receptionist once they open. She's taking it all in when Robin strides out of his office, startling a little at her presence but giving her a warm smile.
"Regina, what a pleasant surprise, what can I do for you?"
This is it, she swallows heavily, mentally preparing herself, then chickens out, "I… um, when are you opening?"
He's not going to have time for her irrational proposal, he's opening a new non-profit for god's sake.
"Friday, then the grand opening is in two weeks, so we can work out all the kinks. You should come, we're providing a lunch and an overview of what we're doing, hoping to build relationships and work in concert with other organizations."
"Yes, I'd love to, that sounds lovely. Do you have an official invite I could bring down? Assuming you wouldn't mind others from my office attending."
"We do, and that would be great, the more the merrier." He looks around, then gestures for her to follow him as he turns and heads back toward his office. "We sent out an email but our listserv is a bit lacking. I got the handouts today and the plan was to distribute them tomorrow, then I have posters that will be up in the lobby, if you guys want one."
She knows enough about their office policies, even though she tries like hell to stay out of them, to know that that is not something they would put up. They have very strict rules about what can and cannot be displayed, and while she understands the reason why, it's annoying every time she faces red tape to get local shelter's resources up.
"I won't take a poster, it would just get thrown out or put in the back of a cabinet never to be seen again."
"Oh, is that so?" he asks with a grin, thankfully finding the humour and not getting offended.
She takes in the nameplate on his door, Robin Locksley, Founder, Executive Director, and offers up, "Yeah, a word of advice, policies can be good, but don't have a policy for everything such that it's impossible to do anything without checking the policy."
"Ah, one of those, bogged down in policies and procedures. That's not really my style."
Oh, he has no idea, but she did not come here to bitch about that, something she and Mal do frequently. She looks around his office, and it's not at all what she expected for an ED. It's small, not tiny, but there's really only space for his desk and the couch over in the corner.
"What is your style?"
"Honestly, I'm still figuring that out. All I really know is that I am not better than anyone else who works here. It's really important to me to be accessible, to learn from everyone and their experiences and that we grow together."
That sounds incredible, and she hopes he can do it, expresses that as he passes her a few copies of the formal invitation to No Shame's grand opening.
"I hope so, too. I'm not stupid enough to think it won't have its challenges, but I'm hopeful." He spies something and grimaces, it's the time, she realizes, as she follows his gaze over to the clock on the wall.
"I'm sorry, but was that what you needed? I have to be out of here in ten minutes."
Okay, there goes any chance of stalling.
"No, um, it wasn't, I…" she's insane for doing this, fuck no, not that, she's devoid of all common sense, and ugh. "I was wondering… oh god, this was stupid, just forget about it."
He shakes his head, "No, what is it?"
Her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she stutters out, "Seriously, it was crazy—" dammit, "—I should, um, let you get going, sorry."
God, this was so stupid. What was she thinking?
He reaches out for her, a hand settling on her arm, touching but not grasping. "Regina, what were you going to ask me? You can ask me anything."
She feels her cheeks flush even harder, and she purposefully looks down at the floor as she rushes through her mortifying confession. "I was going to ask you to be my, uh, fake boyfriend for a wedding, but it's ridiculous so…"
He chuckles, "That is not at all what I was expecting."
At that she looks up at him, frowning as she asks (and changes the subject), "What were you expecting?"
"Not that." He smirks, then asks far too casually, "When's this wedding?"
Shoot, her lame attempt to distract away from her humiliation didn't work. She owes it to him to answer his questions after asking that of him, "June fifth."
"Well," he starts, leaning in conspiratorially, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of her, "I am free that day."
God, this is humiliating, and she should just leave, but she can shut this down another way (she hopes), "Well, it's in Portugal, so it's a bit more of a commitment."
He grins, still teasing her, "You know, I have always wanted to go to Portugal, the beaches are gorgeous."
Yes, they are but, "Okay, you can quit making fun of me and go home now."
His face twists into an adorable frown, "I wasn't making fun of you." She narrows her eyes because yes, he was, so he changes his tune, "Okay, there was a bit of good-natured teasing. In all seriousness, I'll admit it's unorthodox, and not something I ever expected, but I will need a vacation after this month. I've been practically commanded to take one in June by my closest friends, some time on a beach sounds like a lovely break, with the added bonus of helping someone out."
Okay, he has to be humouring her, that's the only explanation. "You can't be serious."
"I'm not saying yes, yet. I don't know you well enough to know if spending a week together is something I could commit to. And I'm terribly sorry, but I do have to go," He starts to lead her out of his office and back toward the elevator, "but let's talk more about this. How about over dinner?"
She nods a bit dumbstruck, "Okay…"
"Friday night?"
She'll have to find someone to look after Henry but she's certain Mary Margaret would jump at the chance if she knew why Regina needed a sitter. "Yeah, I can do Friday."
"Awesome. Why don't you give me your number and I'll text you details once I figure them out?"
She feels the corners of her mouth start to turn as she takes his phone from him and steps into the elevator. "Sounds good."
He hits one and she reaches across to hit six, still needing to grab her stuff from her office. It's a good thing Henry's grandparents pick him up on Mondays and take him to his swim lessons because she's going home far later than she should be.
Robin tells her, "See you Friday," as she exits onto her floor, and she smiles softly as she echoes the sentiment.
He's not going to go for it, but god was he ever the perfect person to ask. Somehow he made her feel like it wasn't a completely asinine request, that she shouldn't be embarrassed for asking. He's a good guy, she's always thought as much, but this has just confirmed it.
And hey, she gets a dinner with a great guy out of it all, that was well worth the fleeting embarrassment he somehow managed to cool. She's lost any shot with him because of it, but it wouldn't have worked out anyway, so maybe this is better.
She can't believe she's doing this, would have cancelled if it weren't for Mary Margaret's insistence that she give it a chance. She's a ball of nerves as she makes her way to this… not quite date (what does one even call this encounter? She doesn't know, that's for sure). She'd nearly talked herself out of it when Robin texted her the options, reminding herself, perhaps unnecessarily, that this would preclude any romantic future with her (because let's be honest, that ship already sailed when she proposed this ridiculous plan—and it's not like she's looking for someone anyway). If Mary hadn't been over when he'd suggested restaurants she's certain this would have ended already and she wouldn't be in this mortifying situation.
She felt almost normal when she was getting ready, had managed to trick herself into treating this like a real date before the reality set in. It wasn't hard, because she is so attracted to him, but that can never be, not if they are going to do this—which they won't, it will never work out, he's not going to agree to something this irrational, he won't, and if he does, well… he's definitely not the man for her, and maybe she can put this silly crush to bed.
She's in a white wrap dress, low cut and flattering, one that she realizes too late she's wearing as a 'fuck you' to her mother, who won't leave her thoughts and always criticized her for wearing white, despite how great it looks when she's tanned—which admittedly isn't now, but it's still a good look. She bronzes well, always has, and it's one of the few things her mother never sullied for her despite the explicit racism that came with Cora's insults of her tanned skin.
She thinks Robin will like the cleavage she has in this dress, then reminds herself of what this is, and that she shouldn't have put in this much effort. It doesn't matter if she knocks his socks off, she ruined any chance of him ever being interested when she opened her mouth and dropped her problems on him, asking him to be the solution.
If she could go back and undo what she asked, she would, because it's unfair how good he looks tonight. He's waiting for her out front of the restaurant, grabs the door for her and escorts her in with a friendly greeting. As soon as he gives his name they are ushered to their seats, which gives her ample time to check him out. He's dressed down, in a hot leather jacket, a grey button-up, and dark jeans that show off his ass. He looks delectable, good enough to eat, his tempting blue eyes and smile drawing her in, even though that's never going to happen.
She takes her eyes off of him to pass her jacket to the maître d' and takes in the restaurant because she needs to stop the blatant ogling now that he can see her. She has heard of this place before, but she's never been in, it's a bit too upscale for her dinners with Henry, which essentially consist of burger joints, Italian places that serve pizza and occasionally Thai food. This is a date spot, that much was always clear to her, and it's made more apparent by the flowers on the table and the way they are seated in the corner together rather than across from each other.
She flips through the drink menu as Robin asks her what she thinks and she admits she's never been before.
"Oh, that's a shame," he remarks as she eyes the wine list, spying her favourite wine, that's sadly only available by the bottle and not the glass. "It's one of my favourite spots. I haven't been in ages, though."
The words come out of her mouth before she really thinks them through, "Oh, when's the last time you were here?"
She looks up in time to see him grimace and realizes too late that she's most likely asking him about another date. "It was with my wife actually."
He's married?! Why the fuck is he here with her? This is so fucked up. What was he even… god, what the hell?
She glances down to his hand and he's not wearing a ring. Did he take it off? Is this some sort of weird ploy to get her to have an affair with him? What was she thinking? No one normal agrees to this, she should have known better. Shit, how is she going to get herself out of this?
She's been silent for too long so she stutters out dumbly, "You're… you're married?"
"Oh, I… not anymore. My wife… she, um… she died."
Okay, fuck, so no, she's just an asshole for assuming the worst. It took her years to transition to calling Daniel her late husband, it sounded and felt wrong because he was very much still her husband even though he was gone.
"I'm so sorry," she tells him, clasping his hand in hers and giving it a soft squeeze.
"Not exactly ideal first date talk, is it?" he says, shaking his head ruefully.
And maybe not but, "I lost my husband, too."
His mouth opens, likely to say something sympathetic, but their waiter appears for their drink order, a welcome distraction for conversation that was going in a much too sombre direction.
She orders herself a glass of the house white, thinking of that time Mary spilled red wine all over her white dress, while she's a bit more refined, she doesn't want to risk it. Robin gets himself a whiskey coke, which means she's not the only one drinking. She drove so she can only have two, but she plans on having both to get through her humiliation.
"What's good here?" she asks Robin, changing the subject from before, which he seems to appreciate.
"I'm partial to the Chicken Parm, but the grilled salmon is also very good." That's what she was eyeballing, so decision made. "Would you want to split an appetizer, the spinach dip is incredible."
That's more calories than she was planning on consuming, but she can skip the side salad she was going to order. This can be a last night of indulgence before she starts cutting back. She's up ten pounds since the last time she saw her mother, and that's something she needs to tackle before the wedding. She was too thin then, too grief-stricken and overtired to take proper care of herself, but she has five pounds now that need to go.
"Yeah, the spinach dip sounds good."
"Oh good, I love dips, I'm always half tempted to order one just for myself, but it's a bit much."
She chuckles softly, then muses, "What other dips are there that compare to spinach dip?"
"Crab dip for starters—" okay yeah, he has her there, she loves a good crab dip "—onion dip, queso, guac, pizza dip—"
She raises a brow at that one, because she's never heard of pizza dip before, "What is that?"
"Oh, it's my favourite. Basically like a crustless pizza, all the toppings that would be in a pizza in a dip, it's heavenly."
"So exactly as it sounds then."
He snickers at that, "Yes, pretty much. So, tell me…"
Their drinks are delivered to the table and they pause to place their orders. She takes a sip of her wine, expecting Robin to ask whatever question he had, but he doesn't, just takes a sip of his own drink.
"Why'd you agree to this dinner?" she asks, because she can't figure it out. He's gorgeous and a great guy, there are far easier ways for him to get women, and he barely even knows her, so it can't be about her.
"Honestly, I'm intrigued…" oh great, that's just what she needs. "I've never been someone's fake boyfriend before, not something I ever thought of, but…" He sighs, his shoulders shrugging as those stunning blue eyes look into hers, "Since my wife died, I haven't done much of anything. Then my son started kindergarten in the fall, and I knew something had to change. Ever since I've been pursuing new opportunities, trying new things, and it's been good for me. I needed that. I haven't said yes yet, I need to know you a bit better before I commit to something like this, but I try to take the opportunities I can to help people out, and I know it must be a lot for you to seek something like this out, so if I can I want to help ease that burden."
That's… wow. "But you don't even know me."
"I'm a good judge of character," he says, pausing to take a sip of his drink, " and I like you, Regina. I don't know that it's enough to commit to spending a week together, but I suspect it will get there."
She almost thinks he's flirting with her, but he can't be, can he? "And what exactly do you think is going to get it there?"
She's still a little wary because yes, he's hot as hell, but she will not trade sex for this, she's better than that.
"Well, that's the point of this date, to get to know you a bit better. Spend some time alone in your company, figure out if it's something I'd want to do more of."
She's a glutton for punishment it seems, "What's the verdict so far?"
He smirks, "I'm having a lovely time. What about for you?"
She's not entirely sure what he's asking, if she's having a good time tonight or if she's willing to spend more time with him, but the answers are the same. "I am. I'm pleasantly surprised by all of this. I really didn't think this would be something I would entertain, let alone someone else, especially someone like you."
"What do you mean?"
How does she say this without making a fool of herself? "You're so normal. I'm still half convinced that I'm being punked, and you are going to go laugh with your buddies about convincing me you'd agree to this outrageous proposal."
"Hey, look at me," he says and she raises her eyes from the tablecloth to his hypnotic blues that she is far too into, "I'm not like that. I'm here to get to know you and that's all. There are no ulterior motives here, and I'm not going to share with anyone what you asked me. Well, at least until I agree, then logistically I might have to, but I'd clear that with you first. My point is, I'm not going to be making fun of you. You are a lovely woman, you do an incredible service to the community with the work that you do, and you deserve to have things that make your life a little easier."
He's perfect, but he can't be. He must have some major flaw hiding beneath the surface, there's no other explanation. Nobody is this good. Especially not someone who hangs around with her.
"I should probably tell you a bit about my mother and what drove me to this—"
"Only if you want to, I'm not pushing."
That's sweet, but he deserves to know what he's considering getting himself into. She gets a quick break to collect her thoughts because she spies their waiter bringing over the appetizer and points it out to Robin as she figures out how to frame this. He's still a near stranger, and her mother is a subject most people in her life know nothing about. Mary knows the most, but only Daniel had known the full extent of what her mother had done to her, what she'd said, the cruelty she'd shown Regina.
They dive into the spinach dip as she ponders, and it is good, so much so that she congratulates Robin on the good call.
She finishes off the last of the wine in her glass before she starts, "My mother is the reason I'm doing this. She's… awful. We haven't seen each other in ten years, and if I had my way we'd never cross paths again. It would be best; she's terrible, toxic, I…" She's starting to stray into dangerous territory, and he doesn't need to know just how much of a mess she is over this, how her mother drives her back into self-destructive patterns to win her approval and love, which she'll never actually have, but she can't stop herself from seeking out.
She's a fucking therapist, she should be better than this.
"She's going to be at this wedding, is going to try her hardest to tear me apart, and the fact that I haven't been in a relationship since my husband died a decade ago will be her favourite criticism."
"Your mother sounds like a piece of work."
That's an understatement. "She is, and while I like to think I'll be okay facing her on my own," she fiddles with her glass, staring at the nonexistent pattern as a way to avoid his gaze as she admits, "the truth is, she will ruin my vacation if I let her. And I will let her… I just, I need someone to help keep the pressure off, and to keep me away from her."
"And that's why you are doing this?"
She's looking down now, still avoiding what she's sure is a far too pitiful expression. "It was suggested to me by a friend, and it's not something I'd normally even consider, but… I can't not go to this wedding, and I need to do something to help prevent the disaster she will make it."
"So damage control, I understand that, but do you really think a fake boyfriend is going to help?"
She shakes her head vehemently, finally looking at him again. "If there is one thing my mother looks down on more than anything, it's single, older women who 'wasted their potential.'"
"That's absurd."
She nods, "It is, and she is. I learned long ago you can't make sense of her. The way her mind works, the way she twists reality and what happened to fit her narrative that makes her always the better person and always the victim, always slighted, never in the wrong, it's a psychology that you don't want to understand."
"That's an interesting point of view… I just mean, given what you do."
"It's what I do that gave me it. The horrors I hear about from my clients, the suffering people can cause with no remorse, with no sense that it was wrong, the entitlement some people feel… You don't want to understand that. I never want to be in a position where I can understand and justify why an abuser did what they did, because there is no justification."
Her little tirade has taken him aback, it's obvious from his posture and expression. He wouldn't have been expecting such a reaction, but she's passionate and very opinionated when it comes to this.
"That's… I didn't think of it like that, but I get it now. Yes, I don't think we want to be understanding an abuser's point of view. It's the same with racism and sexism, we shouldn't be excusing it. I do think there's a value in understanding how people come to those viewpoints in the first place, so we can work to eradicate that, but I'm in complete agreement with that."
He's smart, she should have known given what he does, but it just makes him that much more attractive to her. "The 'where' it comes from is interesting in terms of prevention. I mean, we do what we can, but for me, it's so focused on the aftermath. I only work with victims, and as much as they think 'if only I did this,' there's nothing they could have done to prevent what happened to them…"
This is getting too heavy again, even though he seems interested. "But anyway, I unsurprisingly have a lot of thoughts about this, but let's not let my work take over the night."
"If you say so, I think it's fascinating."
"Why don't you tell me about what you do, or what you did before founding No Shame?"
"I was a massage therapist actually."
She furrows her brow, asking, "Really?" because she wasn't expecting that, she figured he worked for another non-profit before branching off to create his own.
"Well, until my wife died, then I was a stay at home dad until Roland went to school."
Roland, that's his son's name, she needs to remember that. "So he's four then? Or is he five now?"
"Four, he's a November baby."
She hopes this doesn't come out judgy because she asks strictly because she's curious, "And you would be able to leave him alone to do this trip?"
He shrugs, "I have people who would look after him for me. His grandmother lives with us and always tells me she can handle him if I took some time to myself, but leaving Roland is most of my hesitation. If I were unattached I probably would have agreed without this, but there's my son to think of. That said, my friends have been urging me to take a childless vacation for ages now, and I will admit the prospect is as appealing as it is scary."
She understands that completely, she was so nervous the first time she left Henry, which was only for a long weekend. She was nervous again when she left him for a week so she and Mary Margaret could go away on what became the infamous Mexico trip.
"I get that, the first time travelling without my son was hard. It is nice and refreshing to have childless time, especially as a single parent, but you miss them so much."
"How old is your son?"
Right, that hasn't come up yet. "He's ten."
She sees the light bulb go off, that Daniel died around the same time she had their son, but Robin doesn't comment, which she appreciates more than she can express.
"What's his name?"
"Henry, for my father."
"And he's… he passed as well?"
She nods, swallowing down the lump that pops into her throat. "When I was fifteen, heart attack." She leaves out the "I found him" because she does not want to go down that road, still has nightmares about it to this day.
"I'm sorry."
"What about you, your parents?"
"Mum died when I was seven. To the best of my knowledge, my father is still kicking but…"
Estranged then, my, they really are similar. It's actually kind of freaky how much they have in common. "Trust me, I get it."
He nods, quirking a brow at her, "That you would."
She smiles softly, then their food arrives, and she orders another drink, with him following suit. Then there's silence as they both dig in, broken only by his question of whether she likes it, which she does. She tries to ask him questions between bites, gets him telling an adorable story of his son's antics that makes her miss when Henry was that age. He too was vivacious and full of questions. He still has his inquisitive nature, but he's far more likely to look things up now than to ask her.
It's as she's finishing up her dinner that she asks him if there's anything he needs to know. She still has most of her wine left, and figures he can't possibly know enough to commit to a week away with her yet.
"I'll admit I didn't exactly know what to ask, so I did look some things up."
She snickers at that (more of a snort, but she'd never admit that) "Well, what did your research tell you to ask me?"
"I have to confess that I've forgotten most of it. I got distracted by those thirty-six questions that are supposed to guarantee love. You've heard of them, right? Otherwise, I realize I sound quite crazy."
"I have, though I'm surprised that's what you were looking at."
"I figured they were as good a start as any."
"Well, have at it then."
He reaches for his glass, chuckling as he admits, "As I said I've forgotten most of them. But I do know one was 'Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?' because I thought it was so odd."
She can't resist teasing, "You don't?"
"You do?" he challenges with an arched brow.
"No," she says with a laugh, "I can't imagine that's all that common."
"I think not. Then the only other part I really remember is the staring into each other's eyes for four minutes, which is rather weird, especially in a restaurant."
"Well, I really don't think that's the key to love, so it doesn't much matter."
"I mean, I agree I don't think there's any secret to making that happen, it takes time and getting to know each other, which learning things about each other obviously helps."
"Right, and so what else do you need to know?"
He shakes his head, "I don't know. What I do know is I've had a great time tonight, and I enjoy your company. I can see myself a week away with you, but it's a big commitment, for both of us."
"It is, and to be clear I'd cover your flight, accommodations, this would be a free trip for you, it's the least I can do if you decide to do me this huge favour, which no pressure, I know I'm asking a lot."
"Oddly, it doesn't seem like that much, I think in part because of the vacation aspect." He smiles at her, then firms up, "But I wouldn't accept that, if I'm going, I'll pay my own way—"
"Oh no, Robin—"
"That's non-negotiable."
Well, alright then.
"Oh," he starts, "I've remembered another, and I think it's a good one for this." He looks at her and she raises her brows, urging him to go on. "Tell your life story in four minutes."
"Wow, they really like four minutes."
"Apparently so."
Right, okay, this shouldn't be too hard, but where does she even start, and is he going to time her, or how does this work? They take a minute to iron out the logistics, then she sets the timer on her phone and gets going.
She tells him about how her childhood was not exactly ideal. She had a father who loved her but was a coward, unable to stand up to her abusive, and at times, violent mother, that for a long time she thought everyone got hit when they were bad, that she'd expected a lash that first time she got in trouble at school and spent her whole time out anticipating it. She tells him how she was always a great student, loved going to school and had a drive to be the best that was half self-motivated and half from her mother, to earn that rare 'I'm proud of you' an A+ would bring. She tells him that she met Mary Margaret when she transferred to her school in grade four but hated her for how popular she was. She eventually warmed up to her, and by high school they were best friends. How she rode horses, started doing competitions but became unhealthily obsessed with winning.
He's looking at her the entire time she speaks, and it's a bit unnerving, but he's not just staring, he's reacting to what she says, nodding and grimacing at the right moments. It spurs her to keep going and a glance down at her phone tells her she needs to pick up the pace. She skips her father's death because he already knows that and she spent too much time on her childhood—it's just all very relevant to her request so she wanted to give him a full picture.
She skips another trauma, not quite ready to go there yet, settles for a vague mention of something leading her into declaring psychology as her major. How from there she became really interested in trauma and helping people through it, how by her last year she knew she wanted to be a therapist. That she met Daniel in her sophomore year of university, how her mother always hated him, and she tried not to care though it did bother her. That she did her masters in mental health counselling and Daniel proposed the summer between her first and second year. How they got married while she was doing her supervised counselling work. How it all seemed perfect and how once she'd passed the exam and got her license they'd started trying for a baby.
She skims over a bunch because she's running out of time, skips the signs of Daniel's illness, instead telling him how happy they were when they found out she was pregnant, but it was quickly overshadowed by Daniel fainting, which he swore was just from being overwhelmed by the news but she knew better.
"I…" she's starting to get choked up as she thinks about what happened to him, but her phone alarm dings, telling her that her time is up.
"You don't have to finish if you don't want to. I already feel like I know you better. Thank you for sharing."
To think she'd been worried about being too abrupt, not being able to fill those four minutes. "Thanks, it's um, old pain, but still pain, you know?"
He nods, "I do."
She should finish this off somehow. "He had untreated strep, led to another virus that attacked his heart, he needed a transplant. He didn't get one in time."
"I'm so sorry."
She looks into eyes that are far too understanding, and she curses the world for doing this to the both of them. "Henry was six months old when he passed, and that's when I cut my mother out. Things have been relatively good since then, Daniel's parents live in town, help out how they can, so he does have some family, just not what I would have wanted."
"Marian died the day Roland was born. What was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives was not at all. I make sure to celebrate my son's birthday, I don't want it overshadowed by that, but it's always a bittersweet occasion."
She wants to ask what happened, but she will let him get there in his own time, if at all. "That's very admirable, that has to be really hard."
"It is, but he's my whole world and that day did bring me him, so it deserves to get celebrated."
Their waiter had asked if they'd wanted another drink or dessert earlier in the middle of her life story, which they both declined, and he sets the bill down on the table with an assurance there is no rush that makes her suddenly conscious of the time. It's been just over an hour and a half, but she feels like she knows him better than she has anyone after such a short time. While she doesn't think there's truth to falling in love with those questions, they were helpful in getting her to open up, which is pretty rare.
She's having a good time, but she doesn't want to impose and knows he also has a son to get back to, so she reluctantly suggests they should get on their way and reaches for the bill. He frowns as she does, managing to grab it himself and pull out a black credit card at the same time.
"I should get this, you are the one doing me a favour."
He shakes his head, "Well first off, I haven't actually said yes. But second, I asked you to come here, this is my treat."
She's not going to argue because their waiter is headed over with the machine and she despises when couples fight over the bill like that (David and Mary Margaret do it all the time, and she's traded annoyed looks with many a server over the years). She almost wishes he'd stop treating this so much like a date because she's been curious for a while what those lips taste like, and it's easy to get swept up in a fantasy that this is a real date, one that could end up with them lip-locked, which isn't happening, sadly.
She realizes if he agrees to this, she's going to see a lot more of him, including (ideally) him in a bathing suit. God, she needs to get her attraction in check because just the thought is enough to send her reeling. That he's so easy on the eyes is perfect for this, her mother will approve, but dangerous for her libido, which can't seem to stop flaring in his presence.
After Robin settles the bill, he turns back to her and smiles in a way that makes her cheeks heat. Those dimples are her weakness. It is unfair how good looking he is.
"Should I try to do my story? I know it's fairly one-sided right now, but I could even the playing field if that helps."
She is curious but, "We can save that for the next time," she flushes hard as she realizes what she's said, "I mean, if you agree. We'd need to get to know more of each other to sell this…"
Fuck, that was stupid. She blames those dimples, she got caught up and got flirty, forgetting for a second that this isn't real.
"Let's do it," he says, and it takes a second for her to process it, that he's actually agreeing to do this with her, that this isn't some trick.
"Are you sure?"
"I am. You are right, we'll need to hang out more, but I've had an incredible time tonight, so that prospect is very appealing." He gives her this stirring once over, and she can't help but smirk as he continues, "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better, Regina."
Something about the way he says her name makes her insides flutter. He says it with such meaning, like he really cares for her, which he doesn't, he can't. She's not sure how this happened, how she turned into a silly teenager with a crush, but it should help her sell this, so at least that's something.
"We're really doing this?"
He nods, grabbing her hand in his as he says, "We are."
She gives his hand a soft squeeze as she assures, "You know you can always change your mind."
He assures her with that piercing stare that should make her uncomfortable, but instead makes her feel supported and heard, like what's being said is important. "I know that, but I'm not going to. When I commit, I commit, and I am committed to this with you, Regina, as long as you are."
All she can do is nod. She cannot believe this is actually happening, that he's agreed to do this, that she's going to have someone by her side while she faces her mother. It almost doesn't feel real, but it is. He's here, she can feel the weight of his gaze, his hand in hers. Somehow he's agreed to do this, and she's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.