Chapter 2
The next day, Emma left work at 5 o'clock and picked Hope up from sort-of-preschool-but-really-daycare (or as Hope proudly called, it "school") on time at 5:30. Late Sunday night, Emma's boss had sent her the information on a skip that needed chasing down, and Emma had successfully tracked the guy to the betting counter at the Wonderland dog track by 2 PM, rounding out her afternoon with some paperwork and follow up calls on a couple of other outstanding skips.
It had been a good day, especially for a Monday, and the weather was lovely, a sunny and warm but not humid, early September day in New England. So Emma agreed when Hope asked if they could have dinner on the steps in front of their building. If, in the back of her mind, she wondered whether Killian Jones worked a 9 to 5 job and would be heading home around now, who could blame her? He had seemed amenable to seeing them again, and who could be so cold-hearted to be as charming as he had been with Hope and then NOT make an effort to see her again?
Well, she thought, a guy could be so cold-hearted that he didn't even stick around long enough to meet Hope when she was born, even though he was her freaking father. As it often did, Emma's crappy history with men reared its ugly head and reminded her why she didn't date and kept her social circle small; limited to herself and the two people to whom she had given birth.
The eldest of those two people, Henry, was already home finishing his homework, and he helped her make some turkey sandwiches and cut up some fruit that they placed into Tupperware for safe transport down the three flights of stairs. As she did on a daily basis, Emma marveled at how the boy could be so well-adjusted and thoughtful (really, what teenager was thoughtful?) even though he'd lost his dad at a young age and then lost an almost-stepdad when Hope's father bailed on them just under four years ago when he learned that Emma was pregnant.
Henry grabbed Hope's pink and purple straw cup, a sports bottle of water, and the containers of sandwiches and fruit and headed toward the door.
"You, going to be okay with that, kid?" Emma chided him affectionately. "We don't want to lose our dinner to another accident."
"Ha ha," he replied, nimbly balancing his load as he opened the door. Emma and Hope grinned at each other and clasped hands as they followed him out.
Their building was an old, red-brick, four story apartment building with a center staircase and two small units on each floor. It sat in a row of several similar buildings, all set back slightly from their one way street, which ran north, cutting across the much busier Commonwealth Avenue. Given its proximity to Boston College, their neighborhood was mostly home to college students, but just a little farther West, there were some nice old homes in which families lived, and there was a decent public high school for Henry to attend.
Their routine was to let Hope play in front of the steps, drawing with chalk or blowing bubbles, while Emma and Henry sat on the stoop and occasionally joined her.
This evening, Hope rushed through eating a few bites of her sandwich before eagerly setting about blowing the biggest bubble she possibly could with her bubble solution. Emma and Henry chatted about the day, and Emma raised an eyebrow at Henry as he yawned mid-conversation.
"You ready for bed, kid? It's only 6:30," she teased.
"Ha ha," he replied. "It's weird though. I had the strangest dreams last night. I can't remember details, but I know I slept lousy because of them."
"I had dreams too! They were WEIRD!" Hope, who had been listening, chimed in.
Emma smiled. Hope idolized Henry and tried to do everything that he did, so of course her dreams MUST have kept her up too.
"Hmm," Emma mused. "Maybe your new bedroom decor gives off bad vibes or feng shui or something." She was joking, but she scowled when Henry appeared to furrow his brow and seriously consider her theory.
"Kid, I'm kidding."
He nodded and seemed to force a laugh, then raised his head as his face broke into a genuine grin. "Oh, hey, Killian. Nice outfit!"
Emma turned toward the sidewalk in the direction Henry was looking and couldn't help but grin herself at their neighbor's appearance as he approached. Suddenly inspired by her years living in Boston and being steeped in the city's revolutionary history, she cried, "Hope, Henry, the British are coming!"
Killian finally reached them and presented himself theatrically. His neck was straight and his shoulders were squared in a military-style pose. This was appropriate, since he was dressed in a late-18th century style British soldier's uniform, complete with the famous "Redcoat, " which was adorned with gold trim, brass buttons, and white loops. He wore plain tan pants tucked into shiny period-appropriate (but fake leather) black boots, and he reached into his messenger bag to pull out a flattened, well worn tricorn hat, which he reshaped and solemnly placed on his head.
Despite the slightly rumpled hat and the fact that he looked like he was about to start a losing war with America's founding fathers back in 1776, he looked positively dashing. He was smiling, and his eyes sparkled with mischief, but his cheeks reddened just slightly, and Emma realized that he might have suddenly been struck by a little embarrassment about this grand gesture (maybe because he was making such a show for her, for her family? She pushed the flattering but traitorous thought aside.)
"What are you wear...wait, are you some kind of historical re-enactor?" Emma asked, unable to suppress a goofy grin. Just meeting him yesterday, she would NOT have pegged him for a nerdy history buff.
"Well, in a way," Killian replied. "But not as a hobby," he added hurriedly, noticing her raised eyebrows. "It's part of my job. I work down at the Tea Party Ship and Museum in the harbor. I don't usually wear this getup home on the T, but I thought you all might be outside this fine evening, and that it would make the kids laugh."
Henry was indeed chuckling at him, and he remarked that he'd been to the ship and museum on a field trip back in ninth grade, and that it had been really fun.
"Well, you should come back sometime if it's okay with your mum," Killian said. "Now that you know someone who works there, I'll give you a special tour of the museum and make sure you have the best spot to watch those bloody colonials waste all that perfectly good tea."
Emma and Henry continued to chuckle at his theatrics as Hope looked on.
Killian turned to her and gestured to his costume, "What do you think, lass?"
Hope considered him critically and remarked, "Hmm, I like the red, I guess." She didn't seem totally sold, and maybe even a little bothered.
Emma saw a look cross Killian's face that made her think he noticed, too. Still, he bowed stiffly and gave the little girl a salute of thanks, and Hope smiled in response.
Emma asked Killian if he was an expert in the American revolution, and whether that was why he worked at the museum. He explained that he knew absolutely NOTHING about American history, except what he'd learned in his short time at this job. But back in England, he'd worked for a company that maintained old tall ships, and he had a lot of experience with the care and maintenance of old freighters like the one used by the Tea Party Museum. He now spent half his time keeping up the ship (repairing and staining the wood, fixing sails, tying it down in bad weather) and the other half participating in the reenactments of the famous Boston Tea Party, in which a band of rebellious colonists hurled crates of British-imported tea into the harbor in protest of a tax levied by King George III.
As he shared the story of how, just a few weeks ago, he'd met and impressed the museum director with his knowledge of old ships and then gotten the job, Emma and Henry scooted apart on the step so that Killian could sit between them as they chatted.
Hope, for her part, was blowing bubbles close to the sidewalk, but occasionally walking back to them to grab another grape to eat and listen to their conversation, watching Killian with interest and occasionally chiming in to ask him a question when she wandered over. She was a little more reserved with him than she had been the previous day when they'd met him, and Emma couldn't help but think it had something to do with his costume. Maybe it had just thrown her off a little because she was so young.
As the September sun began to set, they realized it was getting to be time to head inside. Killian helped them to pack up the remnants of their dinner and walked with them up the stairs.
Up on the third floor in front of their apartments, they bid Killian a friendly goodnight. He thanked them for the food they had shared and reminded them again that they were welcome to come see the Tea Party ship at any time.
As Emma cleaned up from dinner and got Hope ready for bed, she realized that she hadn't enjoyed such pleasant company from anyone besides her kids in a very, very long time.
As the week went by, the weather continued to be lovely, and they saw Killian almost every day on the stoop after work (although now he was always dressed in his usual jeans and a t-shirt.) Emma and Henry got into the habit of packing him a sandwich and some extra fruit or chips, and he gratefully accepted dinner as he joined them on the steps.
Despite her usual skittishness around new people, Emma couldn't help but admit that he was a nice addition to their evenings, sharing funny stories from his time in the British Navy when he was young and filling them in about all the characters with whom he now worked at the Tea Party ship.
If she happened to also enjoy looking at him while they chatted, well, how could anyone really blame her? And it wasn't just the way he looked that was so pleasant; it was the way he looked at her when she talked. He seemed sincerely interested in her and what she had to say. He held eye contact and listened, and not in the fake "look what an attentive guy I am but really I'm just waiting to use my next awesome line on you" way that most guys she met listened.
Killian was also REALLY great about playing with Hope. He'd kneel down on the sidewalk and dazzle her with chalk drawings of pirate ships and giant squids ("Did you ever SEE a giant squid?" she asked him with wonder. "Aye, lass, I think so...or perhaps it was a Kraken." "A Kwaken?") or engage her in a challenge over who could blow the biggest bubble.
Emma's usual M.O. was to assume that guys who were nice to her kids were usually just doing it as a means to eventually get her into bed, but none of her internal alarm bells were going off about Killian as she watched him entertain Hope or engage Henry in conversation. The truth was, it was a big relief to have someone else there to interact with the kids in the evenings, especially Hope. As the only parent in the household, it was often all Emma could do to make sure everyone was fed and clothed and headed to the right school or activity every day, on top of working her full time job. Henry was also old enough to start thinking about college and had signed up to take the SATs, and that was a whole new level of complexity and financial stress she was dreading.
On top of all of it, the task of keeping a very precocious, inquisitive three-and-a-half-year-old engaged with fun, educational activities all the time could sometimes be too much. Suddenly this week, at the end of each long day, Emma had help from Killian in satisfying Hope's boundless enthusiasm for play and stories. She had warmed back up to him again on Tuesday, seemingly over whatever discombobulation his appearance had caused the previous evening.
Emma kept catching herself smiling as she watched the two of them interact, and then that DID set off her internal alarm bells, because experience had taught Emma to know better than to start trusting or relying on anybody, especially a man. This guy was nice enough, but any day now he'd probably meet some piece of ass who was younger than Emma and whose life was less complicated, and this little friendship he was cultivating would quickly lose its charm novelty to him.
On Friday, a rainy system settled over New England for the day, and in lieu of having dinner on the stoop, Emma agreed to the kids' request that she order pizza.
"Can Killian come over for pizza?" Hope asked.
Emma sighed. Hanging out with him in the building's shared space was one thing, but inviting him in to the apartment for dinner after they'd basically had dinner with him already every night this week seemed like...a lot.
"Honey, it's Friday night," Emma replied to her daughter. "A lot of people have plans and go out on Fridays."
"But what will he EAT?" Hope inquired worriedly.
"Hope, he'll be fine, he can eat wherever he goes out, like at a restaurant or something," Henry chimed in patiently. "Although..." he added after a moment's hesitation, "I could knock on his door just in case he's there all by himself?"
Finally, Emma relented. It would just be for a quick slice of pizza, and then she'd beg off that she needed to get Hope a bath and ready for bed.
As it turned out, Killian wasn't home when the food arrived a little before six, and the three of them ended up having a quiet dinner at the tiny table they crammed into the space between the kitchen and living room. Emma was relieved, or so she told herself.
Hope was unusually quiet during their meal, and when Emma asked her what was wrong, she looked thoughtful before replying. "I was just thinking about my dream from last night."
"Oh yeah, was it a weird one?" Emma replied, remembering that the little girl had mentioned having had strange dreams a couple times this week, but she hadn't shared any details.
"Yeah, it was REALLY weird," said Hope. "My bed was on this big gold tower, and when I looked over the side it went WAAAAY down with clouds BELOW me. Then this purple smoke came all around my bed, and I saw it was full of all these bugs flying around me!"
Emma and Henry both looked at her in surprise. "Wow, that IS weird," said Emma sincerely. "Were you scared?"
"A little, I guess," Hope mused. "I started to hit the bugs away, and then I guess I woked up."
"I see," Emma replied.
"She was pretty restless in the middle of the night," Henry remarked. "She actually woke me up for a minute, but then she settled back down pretty quick."
Henry then changed the subject to talk about and upcoming presentation he had to give at school, but as Emma chatted with him, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about Hope's dream, and that it was unusual for such a young child to be able to recall and recount the details so vividly.
Around 7:30, Henry was watching baseball on TV and Emma was in the bathroom starting the water for Hope's bath. The little girl was in the bathroom too, still fully dressed in pink shorts and a yellow T shirt, slumping her shoulders and complaining that she didn't FEEL like a bath (although Emma knew that once she got in and started playing with her bath toys, she never wanted to get out.)
All of a sudden, Hope sprinted out of the room. Emma followed, shouting for her to come back, when she saw that Hope's destination had been the front door, which she had thrown open and was currently enthusiastically greeting a very surprised Killian Jones, who apparently had returned home and was unlocking his own door.
"Wow, kid, you must have super hearing," Emma remarked under her breath before adding, "Hope, sweetie, you're not supposed to EVER open the front door. Hi, Killian."
"Good evening," he replied cheerfully, and she couldn't help but notice how genuine his smile seemed, and how attractive he looked with his hair dark hair damp from the rain.
"Killian, why did you eat at a rest-want?" Hope asked, charmingly mispronouncing the last word. "We had pizza!"
"You did!?" Killian replied, comically indignant and winking at Emma, who smiled and shrugged.
"Yeah, we knocked on your door, just in case, but..." Emma trailed off, suddenly feeling weird about the idea of him thinking they had expected him to want to have dinner with them.
"Well, I am very sorry to have missed pizza," he replied with (slightly theatrical, for Hope's benefit) solemnity, looking at each of them in turn. "Alas, we had some extra preparations to make at the museum in preparation for the weekend, and we ended up ordering some sandwiches while we worked."
"It was no big deal," Emma told him, rolling her eyes a little in embarrassment.
"On the contrary, it was lovely of you to think of me again, especially since you've been feeding me all week! I really wish you'd let me return the favor by having you as my guests on the ship tomorrow."
"Can we, Mom, please!" Hope begged, putting her little hands together adorably and gazing up at Emma.
"The rain's going to stop. It's supposed to get back to being nice out tomorrow," Henry chimed in helpfully from over on the couch, holding up his phone, which was open to the weather app.
Emma looked at the three hopeful faces starting at her and relented. "Okay," she said. "Thank you Killian, that sounds like a lot of fun."
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "The first tour's at 10, and then they are pretty much on the hour. We're well staffed on Saturdays, so I should be able to escort you around the museum after the show. Do you want to come down for the 11 o'clock tour, and then maybe we can grab a quick bite together afterwards before I have to get back?"
"That sounds great," she said, somewhat shyly. He was so genuinely enthusiastic about it, and it DID sound like a nice day. In fact, she was a little embarrassed about how much she was already starting to look forward to it.
That night, Emma was awakened by the sounds of her daughter crying and yelling in her sleep. She jumped out of her bed and ran across the hall to Hope's bedside, where a groggy Henry was already comforting the still half-asleep child.
"It's okay, kid, you were just dreaming," Henry soothed, rubbing her back as Hope burrowed into her pillow for comfort, still whimpering a bit.
"Don't let them take it!" Hope whined sleepily, and Emma and Henry exchanged confused looks.
"It's okay, honey, nobody's taking anything," Emma told her daughter, smoothing her now-sweaty blonde hair and leaning down to kiss her forehead.
Hope nodded sleepily into the pillow, muttered, "Okay," and appeared to drift back off to sleep.
Henry returned to his bed and was soon asleep again, but Emma watched her daughter for a few minutes, making sure her breathing evened out and that she seemed to be in a dreamless, deep sleep.
She wracked her brain to try to remember if Henry had started experiencing bad dreams at this age. She supposed he had, but not every night, and she still didn't recall him describing them in the detail Hope had at dinner.
After a while, she returned to her bed, but it took her a long time to fall asleep.
Saturday morning, Hope was up bright and early as usual, despite her bad dreams the night before. Emma turned on cartoons and chatted with her as she made coffee. Hope didn't mention her dreams, and Emma didn't bring it up, not wanting to upset the little girl. Although, Emma wasn't sure anything could upset her daughter this morning, as she only half paid attention to her shows in favor of constantly asking Emma whether it was time to go to the ship yet. A few times she phrased it as "time to go see Killian" yet, and Emma tried to tamp down the feeling of worry that bubbled up in her gut each time Hope said that.
A little after ten, when everyone was showered and dressed, they walked to the spot on Commonwealth Avenue where Emma's yellow Volkswagen was currently parked, and she drove them down to the area by the harbor. Boston's Seaport had been developing rapidly over the past few years, and the cheap parking lots that used to sit just a stone's throw from the courthouse and The Barking Crab had been moved farther and farther out. Emma parked in one after double checking that the weekend daily rate was still relatively reasonable.
Hope was sort of at that in-between age where she didn't want to ride in a stroller (those were for babies), but where she got tired on longer walks. They skipped the stroller today, and Hope's excitement carried her little legs almost all the way from their car to the Boston Tea Party Museum and Ship in the area known as Fort Point Channel. Henry helpfully carried her for the last three blocks to the entrance of the museum, which sat on a bridge over the channel. A few museum employees in ragged, brown and gray costumes (complete with tricorn hats of course) were greeting tourists.
She didn't see Killian right away, but he must have been inside, watching for them, because he burst through the front doors of the museum in full British officer regalia and greeted them warmly.
Hope seemed fine with his Redcoat costume today, and greeted his offer of a high-five with gusto. He escorted them down the sidewalk of the bridge to the dock from which they would board the ship. He and Henry walked in front, chatting about Boston and other Revolutionary-era tourist attractions. Hope held Emma's hand as they walked but kept trying to pull her closer and closer to Killian and Henry so that she could listen in.
When they reached the ship, they boarded via a wide, tourist friendly gangway and were greeted by a museum employee who introduced himself as Samuel Adams and gave them all some background on the bitter tax disputes that were taking place between the British King and Parliament and the people of Boston.
"Be back in a moment," Killian said quietly to Emma, distractingly close to her ear, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand at attention, and then he disappeared back down the gangway.
After his talk, "Sam Adams" was joined by a few other "revolutionary colonists," who instructed the kids in the group to line up behind boxes of "tea" which were secured to the side of ship with ropes. Emma took out her phone and started to snap photos as Hope happily lined up with the other children, many of whom were older. She solemnly complied as the "colonists" instructed the kids to pick up the boxes and throw them overboard. Henry stepped forward to help make sure his sister could hoist her crate all the way over the rail. They heard a splash, and then he lifted her so that she could see down into the water. Hope giggled and clapped with delight as her crate of "tea" bobbed in the harbor.
Then, behind them, British officer Killian Jones boarded the ship and hoisted his bayonet to admonish the rebellious colonist scoundrels.
"By order of the king, you are under arrest for destruction of royal property!" he yelled haughtily, seeming to relish the role of the role of the villain.
Hope, Henry and Emma watched with silly grins on their faces as Sam and the other costumed revolutionaries pushed him aside and fled down the gangplank.
Killian then straightened and bowed as the colonists returned and followed suit. The tourists applauded the show, and one of the colonist actors directed them down the main gangway back into the museum building for the rest of the tour.
Emma and her kids hung back from the group so that Killian could join them.
"Nice job," Henry told him with a smile.
"Thanks, lad! Someone has to keep law and order in this blasted city" Killian replied, grinning. "And what did you think, young lass?" he asked Hope.
"I liked dumping the tea!" She replied happily, then seemed to think for a moment. "Wait, were you the bad guy?" she asked Killian.
He nodded, "Yes, Hope, in this scenario, I suppose I was."
"Well," she replied. "I think you're a good guy."
Emma couldn't have explained it, but she suddenly felt a wave of emotion rise in her throat, and she blinked back the feeling of tears. What was wrong with her?
"I thank you for that," Killian told Hope sincerely, stooping slightly so that he could meet her eyes and gently pat her soft hair. "Should we head inside?" he asked after a moment.
Unable to speak, Emma simply nodded and followed as Killian took Hope's offered hand and led her down the gangway back to the museum.
They breezed through a quick tour of the museum. Henry was admirably enthusiastic about it, even pointing out the finer points of a few events to Killian, but there is only so much patience you can expect from a preschooler when it comes to historical documents and artifacts, so after a half hour, they headed back to the south side of the channel for lunch.
They picked up sandwiches at a very cute gourmet bakery and cafe that Killian recommended. He insisted on paying as thanks for all their hospitality the previous week. It was such a gorgeous day, that they carried the food to a set of benches overlooking the water and chatted while they ate.
After about three bites of sandwich, Hope, who had been eyeing the Hood Dairy snack bar nearby, convinced her mom that she had earned ice cream. Henry gallantly escorted her over and procured them each a cone, holding her hand as they ate and walked by the railing at the edge of the harbor.
Left semi-alone for the first time, Emma and Killian watched the kids silently for a moment, before he asked her how she got into her work as a bail bonds person. He'd been too polite to ask during their previous dinners together, and Emma guessed that he sensed that it might have been an awkward topic given how unusual the profession was for a woman.
She explained that before Hope was born, she'd been doing part time work for a private investigation firm, and that a lot of her work could be done from home so that she could be there for Henry, who was in middle school at the time. They had been living with her boyfriend, whose name was Frank even though for some reason she always called him by his last name, which was Walsh. He sold furniture and was nice and funny and good with Henry, and they had been looking at buying a house in the suburbs, so she had just assumed that they would eventually get married, even though she was in no rush. When she got pregnant with Hope, she was surprised and a little nervous, but she was excited for Henry to have a sibling. As for Walsh, she thought he'd be happy and that they would just get engaged, no big deal.
Apparently to him, it WAS a big deal. Emma didn't go into all the details with Killian, but as she told him the highlights, she remembered Walsh's stricken face the night she told him they were pregnant. Walsh had looked so sick that he basically turned green. Four unbearably tense and miserable weeks later, he was telling her that he couldn't do this and was packing his things and moving to New York. She used her PI resources to check up on him, and it turned out one of his female employees had joined him in his move. Emma guessed that they had been seeing each other for some time, and that her pregnancy had just hastened his inevitable bailing. She had no doubt that, as nice as he was to Henry, even if she hadn't gotten pregnant, there was no way he would have stuck around with her if it meant he might have to help pay for some other guy's kid's college education.
Killian wore a solemn expression as she spoke. She went on uninterrupted for a few minutes, surprised at how good it felt to unburden her most recent sob story to someone who listened with care and attention. By the end of the story, Killian looked downright devastated, and there was a quiet mix of horror and rage in his eyes that Emma guiltily appreciated. Walsh had really been a piece of shit.
After a moment Killian spoke with utter sincerity, his eyes haunted. "Emma, I am so very sorry that happened to you. I can't even imagine what kind of rotting soul a man has to have in order to leave children and their mother so callously."
"Yeah, he sucked," was Emma's eloquent reply. "But you know what, I got a super adorable amazing daughter out of the deal (seriously, I can't even believe that Hope is related to him) and Henry got over it. Money has been tight. I had to stop working for a while when Hope was born and then try to find something full time, and I don't have a college degree, so I didn't have a ton of options. I've bounced around a bunch, and I've only been in this current gig a few weeks, but so far so good. Max is really nice and has a ton of integrity. He already treats me like a partner, and he is looking to retire in the next couple of years, so I might be able to take over the whole bail bonds operation."
"That's wonderful," Killian replied seriously. He then appeared to shake himself a bit and gestured at Henry who, to his sister's delight, was breaking apart the last few pieces of his cone and tossing them to the ducks and gulls in the water. "I take it your not in touch with Henry's father, then?"
"Nope," Emma replied. "He's dead, has been for about 13 years."
"Wow, I'm so, so sorry."
"It's okay. It's been a long time. He was a good guy. We both grew up in the system, foster care, and then fell madly in love when we were eighteen-year-old idiots. When I got pregnant, I started envisioning a home and a future and got a decent temp job in an office, but Neal started looking for "investments" that would make us real money. He was involved in a bunch of scams and shady deals, most of which weren't legal, but together we kept us afloat after Henry was born. Then one night when Henry was four, Neal went down to Providence for some meeting but then lost control of his car on I-95 coming back late at night in crappy weather. And that was that. We had no savings, no insurance...fun times."
Killian shook his head in wonder, and if she would normally feel shitty about laying out all her dirty laundry to someone she'd known for a week, his sincerity and seemingly genuine interest and concern had made it easy for her to keep going.
"Your children are extraordinarily lucky to have you as their mother," Killian replied, looking at her with something a little like awe, and her heart grew about ten sizes in her chest, because she knew deep down that it was true; that she had been a fucking warrior at times over the years in order to move past her own heartbreak and make sure she kept money coming in and food on the table, but amidst the day to day struggle that was her life, it was sure nice to hear someone else say it out loud.
She smiled back at him, and there were those tears again, stinging her eyes as the emotions at feeling seen and appreciated by another adult, a man who seemed kind and serious and funny at all the right times, were a little overwhelming.
She gathered herself enough to say, "Well, now that I've droned on with my sob story, what about you, do you have any family in the states or are they back in the UK?"
A shadow crossed his features. "Alas," he replied, "I am on my own here. And unfortunately, I may have to take a rain check on sharing my sad story. I need to get back for the next show at 1."
"Oh, of course," Emma replied, suddenly standing up and gathering the remains of their lunch in a paper bag. She was embarrassed, feeling like she'd indulged too much in his kind attentiveness and taken up all their time with her sob stories. "I'm so sorry I went on and on."
He blanched as he stood to help her, seeming genuinely upset that she might feel sheepish about their conversation. "Emma, you have nothing to apologize for. On the contrary, I am honored that you felt comfortable enough to share some of your history with me. I wonder..."
He hesitated, and Emma thought he might be considering whether to ask her out, or even just suggest that they get coffee some time so that they could talk more.
She would have said yes to either one.
Instead, Hope came bounding over to them, seemingly having run out of entertainment when the seagulls had consumed the last of Henry's ice cream cone.
"Mom, we need another ice cream," Hope stated matter of factly.
"Oh no, uh uh," Emma replied sternly but with a hint of a smile. "That was enough ice cream for you and the birds. Killian has to get back to work, and we need to get home." She eyed her daughter, who wore the remnants of her ice cream on both her chin and the front of her t-shirt. "I may have to hose you off before we get in the car."
Killian and Henry laughed at Hope's resulting pout (she even folded her arms across her chest) and said their goodbyes.
Killian knelt down to address Hope, who softened when he addressed her.
"Thank you, very much for coming today, Miss Hope," he said. "It was an honor to perform for such a special audience, and you did a smashing job dumping tea into the harbor."
She smiled at him, her need for additional ice cream apparently forgotten. "You're welcome," she said politely, then added, "But next time, can you do the pirate show?"
Emma blanched and looked down to notice Killian's hook for, really, the first time all day. Oh god, her daughter really had no filter. Emma blushed and didn't know what to say, but of course Killian did.
"I will take it under advisement," he replied, and then, to Hope's perplexed expression winked and added, "I like pirates, too. Maybe one evening this week, I'll teach you how to swordfight. I'm an expert with a cutlass."
Of course, Hope beamed at him in response, even though Emma was pretty sure she had never heard the word "cutlass" before.
Emma took her turn to say goodbye, thanking Killian warmly even as she found it a little difficult to meet his eyes after all she had shared. When she did look up, however, all she saw in his expression was warmth and openness, and not for the first time, she felt like she was at the starting gate of something good. For once, someone had opened a tiny crack in the armor, usually impervious to anyone but her children, that she wore around her heart, and she was only a little bit terrified.