(A/N-Special thanks to all who read, review, follow, fav. Also special thanks to Bekki for beta reading this.)
"Are you touching yourself?"
There's a breath, a pause, and another breath. "Yes," Regina finally whispers. "I am."
They're on the phone—she's at her house and he's in his car on his way from the station. The past four days have been a mess—he got called in for a fatal car accident that's needed a lot of follow-up and Regina's been working a few extra shifts while one of her coworkers is away and he had double babysitting duty this week—and so it's been the better part of a week since he's been inside her. Since he's come at all. And he is about to explode. This morning he got hard pouring a cup of coffee because it reminded him of the long silken tresses of Regina's hair. Yesterday it was from eating a scone, remembering the quick pink dart of Regina's tongue as she licked scone crumbs off her lips.
And don't even get him started on the backseat of his car—every time he sees it, he's hit with the full fucking force of what they did there two weeks ago. She's his first policy violation, the first time he's ever broken the rules as a cop, and he should feel guilty, but goddamn. Every fucking second of that night was worth any of the trouble it could rain down on his head.
"Keep touching yourself," He tells her over the phone. "I need you ready when I walk through that door, love, because I'm not going to be able to wait."
"Okay," she says, in that breathless, absentminded way that lets him know she's starting to touch herself in earnest now. He thumps an impatient hand against the steering wheel. Fuck. He wants to be there now, wants to see the glide of her fingers over her slick folds. Except in this state he'd be too impatient to watch for long; he'd push her fingers out of the way and make her use his cock to masturbate with instead.
The drive is only a few minutes, but he's a wild man by the time he gets to her place. He's still listening to her whimper and pant over the phone as he pounds on the door. He doesn't even let Regina get the door open all the way before he's on her, pinning her to the wall in her foyer and kicking the door shut with his foot as he finds her mouth with his own.
"I'm so full and ready for you, love," he murmurs as he pulls her fingers from his mouth. He moves her hands down to his belt, which she fumbles excitedly with. Once his fly is open, she tugs his cock free and gently palms his balls.
He bucks in her hand, moaning. It almost hurts, being this full. He hasn't gone this long without ejaculating in a long time. "I'm sorry," he says, grabbing her ass and carrying her over to her little dining table with her legs wrapped around his waist. His bare cock rubs against her wet slit as they walk, and he nearly has a stroke. "I can't wait another second."
"Me neither," she whispers as he sets her on the edge of the table.
"I've been waiting for this all day."
"It's yours," she breathes. "Take it."
He enters and starts to pound in her, causing the table to shake like there is an earthquake going on.
"Yes, Robin, more." Regina moans out.
He grunts in response, his eyes as hungry and Regina-starved as his cock, taking in every detail of this. Her wild tits, her parted mouth, the slick and easy slide of his member in and out of her. He won't last and feels the twisting heat at the base of his spine and the tug of his heavy balls as they draw up, and with the table pounding against the wall, he unleashes a series of brutal, fast, deep thrusts that leaves him bottomed out in her and leaves her gasping and clutching desperately at his shirt.
"Gonna come," he mumbles. "Gonna come so hard."
"Give it to me," she demands breathlessly. "Give it all to me."
"Shit yes. I'm gonna. I'm gonna."
And he does, the first wave of release like getting his guts torn out, it's so sharp and so strong. He practically roars, and then he sinks his teeth into her shoulder as his shaft pulses and pumps cum into the deepest parts of her. Pulse and pump, pulse and pump, over and over again, and he's never come like this, so much and so fast and so hard, and it takes forever to unload inside her. It feels like minutes and hours, keeping her pinned with his teeth and speared with his cock as he empties himself. Until finally, finally his body tenses one last time—one final spurt of his seed—and then stills.
The hurricane of need is finally sated.
He stops biting Regina's shoulder, giving the shallow teeth marks a soothing lick and kiss, and then straighten up and looks down. Regina is still breathing hard when he eases out of her, relishing the spill of his seed as he does. He gets a washcloth and quickly cleans them both up.
"Hey, you're due for your period soon, right?"
She looks up and a small smile spreads across her face. "You remembered."
"I downloaded some kind of period tracker app on my phone,"
She laughs at that and stands up, tossing the used washcloth in the sink. "I bet now your targeted internet ads are all messed up."
"You're telling me. Every time I log into Facebook, I get ads for those period panties on the side. I used to get ads for bullets and beard grooming supplies. What are you doing to me?"
She adjusts her dress with a smirk. "Maybe it will be good for you to live outside your masculine bubble for a while."
"So, have you taken a test yet? I know it's early, but how can you stand the wait?"
"I'm not actually due until tomorrow," she says, the smirk sliding off her face.
"They have those tests where you can test up to five days before your period. I saw that on the box. You could totally take a test now!" He's starting to feel a little excited—for her, of course, all for her.
"Mm." Regina makes a noncommittal noise and goes into her bedroom, returning with a fresh pair of panties.
"Don't mmm about this! Let's go to the drugstore and get a test now! You could take it tonight!"
Okay, maybe he's feeling a lot excited. Which is stupid, because if she is pregnant, then it's that much sooner that she dumps him—if dumping is even the right word. And that possibility fills him with dread, but even with that dread, he can't help but want to know. He can't help but feel a spark of excitement at the potential spark of life inside his librarian's belly.
Regina puts on the underwear slowly, as if buying time for a response, and even though she's not trying to be sexy, he starts to thicken and swell again at the sight of the thin lace moving up her legs, at the flash of her perfect ass as she lifts her dress. Finally she straightens, smoothing her dress down, and says one word. "No."
"Come on, let's go get one."
She shakes her head firmly. "There's no point in taking one at night, it needs to be the morning because—"
"—hCG levels are highest in the morning, I know."
She narrows her eyes. "You know about hCG?"
"The pregnancy hormone? Belle's been pregnant twice, Regina. You know how unafraid she is of body talk. I picked up a thing or two." He doesn't mention to Regina that he's been steadily reading his way through every pregnancy book the library owns, since maybe that seems a little over-committed to the whole process.
"But just because the levels are highest in the morning doesn't mean you can't test any other time, especially this close to your period."
"Fine." She gives a little huff, as if irritated that she can't smack him down with her superior knowledge of human pregnancy. "Maybe I could. But I told myself I wasn't going to test until tomorrow and I don't like changing plans when I've already attached emotional processes to them."
He blinks at her.
"What I mean is, I don't want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed, like what happened last month. But if I do it the way I planned, it's like I can protect myself a little. Because I've emotionally rehearsed what it will feel like doing it on the day I'm supposed to get my period."
"Love, I don't emotionally rehearse shit, and I'm still okay. Look at us—at this—" he gestures between their bodies. "I'm so glad I didn't emotionally rehearse our first date. I'm glad you blindsided me with this whole baby madness."
She bites her lip. "You are?"
"Yeah, and it was spontaneous and crazy and I didn't know how to feel about it at first, but that's part of the fun, doll. That's part of being alive. If you plan to avoid every bad feeling, eventually there's not going to be room for the good feelings either."
She nods but adds, "But the tests I ordered from Amazon haven't come in yet and I don't want any local people seeing me at the pharmacy."
He brings his keys out of his pocket. "Now that is a problem I can fix."
They arrive at a pharmacy where a friend of Robin's works, he steps behind the counter, into the pharmacy area. "Hello?"
Harry comes pottering around the corner, a smile spreads under his bristly white mustache. "Robin Locksley!" he rumbles in happy surprise, pulling him into a hug. His bald head only comes up to his collarbone. "You rascal. What are you doing here?"
Robin hugs him back and then pulls away to throw a mock-rueful glance back at Regina, who is clutching the pregnancy test box and looking mortified. "Well, Harry, I think I got a girl pregnant."
"I knew you would eventually. And you're so young!"
He's giving him a very disappointed look, so he reminds him, "I'm thirty-three now."
"Oh. I guess that's not so young." He scratches his mustache. "Thirty is when you stop producing human growth hormone, you know. And your DNA telomeres start degrading. It's when the body starts dying."
"Exactly!" Regina says from behind him.
"I'm not dying! And neither are you, Regina."
"We're kind of dying, though," she says.
"Take your vitamins," Harry adds, with a touch of sternness, "and then you won't die so fast."
"I'll be sure to do that. Anyway, is there any chance we can get the bathroom key so she can take the test now?"
"Oh, that lock has been broken since the Bush Administration," the old pharmacist says. "Just go on in."
"Oh no—" Regina objects. "We can just buy the test here and then take it at home, and—"
"Young lady," Harry says, all sorts of sternness back in his voice. "If you are pregnant, you need to know as soon as possible. And you are not leaving my store without all the vitamins and folic acid I can give you."
Regina knows she can't win, so she nods and goes into the bathroom with the test and the closes the door behind her.
"She's a good girl. I can tell these things. Now, are you going to give that baby your name? Marry the girl?"
For just a moment, he wants to pretend that Regina really is his girlfriend, that he's really on the precipice of fatherhood, that he's got a ring stashed away in his house somewhere, just waiting for the right moment.
"Yes," Robin pretends. "I'm going to make her mine. We're going to be a family."
The words sound so good, they feel so good to say. A weird heat prickles in his eyes, balls into a huge knot in his throat.
That earns him a pat on the shoulder. "Good boy." And then with a second pat, Harry trundles back off into the back to fill more orders.
He hears the toilet flush, but there's no other sound from the bathroom. He knocks on the door. "Regina? Everything going okay in there?"
"I'm fine," her voices is muffled and a touch irritable. "I'm just doing another one."
"Another test?"
"There's three in the box, so I just…Oh."
The oh is strange, completely devoid of emotion but also slightly stunned, as if the lack of emotion is because whatever has just happened has surprised her so much that she doesn't know how to react yet.
"Regina, does that oh mean what I think it does?"
She says faintly, so faintly he can barely hear her through the door, "There's another blue line on the first test I took. There's two lines."
"I'm coming in there—"
"Robin, no! I'm still on the—"
And he doesn't even care, because he's charging through the door and going to his knees and pulling Regina Mills into his chest, even though she's still on the toilet, even though she's still clutching her last unused test in her hand.
"Oh my god, love. We are having a baby."
The word we comes out so easy, like a breath, like a tear, natural and gentle and warm, and Regina doesn't correct him. Something he's grateful for, because he wants to pretend, wants all those noisy reasons why there isn't a we to stay forgotten. He kisses her hair and pulls back to study her face. "You okay, doll?"
She nods, biting her lip. There's something distant in her face. Shock, maybe. The reality of getting something she wants so much. Maybe it's sitting on the toilet still and having a big cop come in and smash you into a bear hug.
"Sorry," he says, letting go. He offers a smile that she doesn't return with one of her own. "I shouldn't have come in. I'll be outside."
He leaves her in the bathroom. He is thrilled that they, they? are having a baby. She comes out a few moments later.
"I guess we should ask Harry for the extra vitamins," she says numbly. "I've already got some pre-natals that I've been taking, but I'm almost out and…" She trails off, as if she can't hold on to the thought.
When they get back inside her living room, she's still white-knuckling those tests, holding on to them the way you might hold on to a life preserver if you were drowning.
"Hey," he says, ducking down to meet her eyes. "Look at me. What's going on?"
She blinks down at the tests in her hand. "I don't know. I don't know how to feel. What to think. I wanted this so much and now that it's happening…it's like it doesn't even feel real."
"Come here, babe." he leads her over to her couch, and then he sits, pulling her down onto his lap. And then he slides his hands up her thighs to reach her stomach under her dress.
She sighs again, this time one of pleasure, and he feels her flicker back to life under his touch. He rests his fingertips well below her navel, right where her panties meet her warm, soft skin. "It's real, Regina. This is real right now."
She looks at him, finally really looks at him, and he can see all the unguarded fears pressing up against the inside of her. In the dusk-lit apartment, her eyes are huge and dark and pleading. "The last two months have been like some kind of…dream," she whispers. "I don't know if I remember what real feels like."
Her words twist something inside of him. Suddenly he knows he feels the same way, like this whole fantasy they've been letting ourselves act out has somehow become more real than the things they told themselves they wanted at the very beginning.
"This is real," he tells her, and now he doesn't know if he means the pregnancy or if he means this—the chemistry, the connection, the us they're both too afraid to acknowledge even to themselves. "This is fucking real."
"Yes," she pants against his mouth. Her hands are down at his belt, her fingers brushing against the ridged lines of his stomach as she fights to work it open. "This is real."
She gets his belt open and his jeans unzipped, and in a second's work, he has her panties hooked to the side and her wet core is slowly sinking over his cock. She groans as she impales herself, and he groans too, just watching her. Watching the flush creep up her chest, the sweet points of her nipples poke through her dress. The unabashed, naked pleasure on her face. She feels good, and he's the one making her feel good.
"Is that what you needed, love?" Robin asks.
She nods, her hands almost frantic to push back his shirt, pulls his hair, digs into his arms. "I needed it," she whispers. "I always need it."
"Yeah."
She's soft and tight, and he feels so fucking hard and big inside her. She always makes him feel so big, like a porn star. Like a god.
He moves her the way she needs, the way that rubs her inside and out, and he pulls her down for growling, hungry kisses, and he reaches up to squeeze and fondle her breasts, and he keeps her speared on his shaft until she's trembling and crying out his name, Robin, Robin, Robin.
This is real.
This is real.
This is real.
A Danish study says that frequent sex can prevent preeclampsia.
Regina stares at the text she's written. Then, before she can talk herself out of it, she pushes SEND and sets her phone on the library cart. The ache between her legs is intense, but this text is not only an excuse to see Robin. There's legit science behind it. It's just this is the third time legit science has been behind the sex-requesting texts she's sent him in the week since she found out she was pregnant.
The first time it was the study that showed that intercourse could lower blood pressure in pregnant women. The second time she'd read an article that orgasms were helpful for strengthening the muscles used in labor. Both times, he'd responded without delay or argument.
Both times orgasms and banging were had.
Her phone is already vibrating between the computer and the edge of the cart.
Preeclampsia is way bad. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.
No! I'm at the library, she responds. You better make it thirty.
She opens up the web browser on her computer and type in sex addict in the search box. The first article that appears lists characteristics of addicts, and thank the Lord, none of them sound like her. Well, except for maybe having delusional thought patterns. Does this count as a delusional thought pattern?
She groans inwardly.
She's completely distracted. There's a baby inside her. A baby. A baby she wanted and planned for, but now it's actually here. Growing. Living. Being. And the wait to meet him or her seems so eternally long while the wait to prepare for his or her arrival seems so ridiculously short.
She keeps her features schooled even though she can feel her face heating as she glances at the web page. According to the list of article titles that showed up from her earlier search (Very Horny During Pregnancy, Help! I'm Horny and Pregnant, Horniness During the First Few Weeks, Sex Toys for the Horny Pregnant Woman), horniness during pregnancy is definitely a common problem. That means there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for her addiction to Robin. This is good news!
"Interesting topics." A voice sounds behind her.
Belle!
Regina quickly looks at her open browsers.
Pregnant and Horny
Sex Addict
Coffee and Pregnancy
Your Baby at 5 Weeks
What to Expect the First Trimester
So You've Missed Your Period
How Far Along Am I?
Do Cheetos have any nutrients?
9 Benefits to Sex During Pregnancy
Sperm and Pregnancy
"A patron had a lot of questions."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm a very helpful librarian." Regina offered.
Belle doesn't believe her.
"What?" Regina asks.
She gives her a look that calls bullshit. "You know exactly what! You're pregnant!"
"Shhh!" She glances around to make sure no one has heard her besides the old man who now looks grumpier than ever. Thankfully, she finds no one.
"And from the looks of your Google history, I'm going to guess you're five weeks. Which means you just found out. Which means you don't really have a bladder infection. You're just knocked up."
"Belle! Stop saying that. Someone will hear you."
"Am I wrong?" She's persistent, but quieter, at least. "Before you answer, if you tell me I'm wrong, and you end up being pregnant, I'll know you were lying in a few months when you can't hide it anymore, and I'll remember."
"That's not fair. You know guilt works on me."
"Who's the father?" she asks.
"There is no father." Regina can't look at her.
"Come on! Tell me!" Her gossip loving soul is itching for her to spill. She's practically vibrating with excitement.
"I don't want to talk about him," she tells her, emphatically. "Please. I'm doing this alone." Another stone drops inside her. This one feels much too complicated to call just shame. It's also disappointment and regret. And loss.
Belle nods, slowly. She's not happy with her response. She might even be a little hurt. But she's a good friend and a decent human being. She understands limits and naming the father is clearly one of Regina's. She'll honor it.
"Does he at least know?" she asks next.
"He knows. He's not going to be involved." Simple. Clear cut.
"That's not right, Regina. He needs to pay child support. I can help you go after him for that. I know a great lawyer who can—"
"No!" Regina says. "Absolutely not. He's not going to pay child support."
"And you're okay with that?"
"I asked for that."
"If the guy is a really terrible guy, and you don't want him involved in the baby's life, I'll understand. But if you're trying to be heroic about this, you don't have to be."
"I'm not trying to be heroic. And he's not a really terrible guy. Not at all."
"That's terrific! Because, look." She exhales and Regina can tell she's getting ready to say hard words. "Having a baby is hard. Doing it on your own is…well, I know you can do it. Of course you can. But you deserve everything you can have. And so does your baby. And maybe…maybe so does this not terrible guy. So maybe you shouldn't rush into any decisions. You could find a way to have the baby and the guy."
Regina is scared to admit that she wants the baby and its father. But they both agreed on this.
"Who's the father, Regina?" Belle asks softly.
"No one."
"Do I know him?"
"Belle. There's nothing I want to say about him. I don't want to talk about him. Ever."
"Okay, okay. Sorry." A beat passes. Then another. Then she's coming around the cart, her arms open wide, a big smile on her face. "But what I should have said was—you're going to have a baby! Oh my God! Congratulations!"
"Thank you." Regina finds that her eyes are full of tears.
"And you're happy? These are happy tears?"
"Yes, I'm still adjusting. I only found out a week ago, and it's kind of overwhelming."
"Kind of," she repeats sarcastically. "You know those sci-fi stories about aliens taking over people's bodies and turning them into crazy creatures who go around killing everyone? I'm convinced they're based on women's first pregnancies."
"That's...terrific."
She laughs. "It is, actually. Terrific and terrible all at once." She raises a suggestive brow. "And the hormones are getting to you already."
"...yes?" They are, but she doesn't quite catch her drift.
"Pregnant and Horny. Sex Addict."
Oh yeah. That.
"That was just…"
"I know exactly what it is," Belle says. "All the extra blood flow to the nether lands. Makes you extra itchy for the good stuff. There's some awesome toys I can recommend but nothing does the trick like the real thing. And now that I know you really are into men, this won't be a problem. Let me pull out my contacts. We've got to fix you up!"
"I'm not into men. I told you!"
"Obviously one was into you."
"Well. That was…" Robin. That was Robin. The ache returns inside.
"A one time thing? An accident? You were going to the mailbox to pick up your latest order and slipped and fell on a penis?" Of course she doesn't bother to lower her voice, even when speaking about male genitalia.
"I was going to say complicated."
She bumps her with her shoulder. "Nothing gets you over complicated like rebound sex. Especially if you're pregnant and horny, you sex addict."
Rolling her eyes, Regina turns back to the cart and the computer screen. "I don't need rebound sex." Especially not when I'm still having the complicated sex.
Oh shit. The complicated sex!
"You should at least do a rebound date. And I know the perfect guy!"
"Of course you do," Regina checks her phone for any reply from Robin.
One text message from ten minutes ago. On my way. Be wet.
Yeah, Robin will definitely be here any minute. He's not here yet. Good. She has time. She types the word MISSION ABORT into her phone and hits SEND.
"Robert's friend Keith is coming into town Saturday after next," Belle says. "You have to do dinner with us. He's an author, newly single, and I know you'd love him. It would be so much nicer to have a foursome."
"Uh, I really don't think I want to start something with this baggage."
"It's just one date. Keith doesn't even live in town. It's not starting something. It's dinner." Belle says.
"Even one date. Seems like a waste of everyone's energy."
"If you're still hung up on your baby daddy…" Belle says casually.
And something inside jerks into reaction. "I'm not hung up on anyone," Regina says quickly. Because she's not hung up on Robin.
And then, as if drawn simply by the force of his name, Robin appears behind her at the library doors.
Fuck.
But he sees them. Sees her panicked look and then glances down at his phone as if he's just gotten a buzz from an incoming message. Goddamn Verizon. The service coverage is always so goddamn slow.
Robin nods reassuringly in her direction and then disappears down the stairs.
Down the stairs.
Not out of the library.
Why didn't he leave?
Her phone buzzes in her hand. My cock is hard and waiting for you in the supply closet.
"Okay. Fine," Regina tells Belle. "I'll do it. I'll go on the date." Because, like she said, it's one date. And at this point, she'll do anything to get rid of her and end this uncomfortable conversation so she can get downstairs and get on Robin.
"This is the last time," Regina pants.
Her palms are pressed hard against the sliding glass doors in Robin's sunroom. Her dress is around her waist, her knee is hitched up so it will leave an imprint on the glass, and his cock is pounding into her at just the right angle when it occurs to her that she might be in trouble.
And she's not talking about the baby she has coming.
"The last time. Totally the last time." He braces her raised thigh with one hand and the other grips her hip. His fingernails dig in with a delicious bite that adds to the storm of pleasure gathering below.
"I'm serious."
"So fucking serious." He growls. "Jesus, you feel good, love."
"So good."
"But no more after today," he says, his words running together.
"No more. No more," Regina chants rhythmically, which soon gives way to, "Right there, right there, right there, right there. Don't move."
"I'm not moving. This is all you, babe. Look."
She glances at them and realizes she's pushing back into him.
"You look so hot like this," he says, adoringly. "In this position."
She comes, cries out his name as she does. Her strength gone, her leg falls, and Robin, with both hands on her hips now, drives into her with wild strokes. "I'd mark you all up. You'd be covered with me all over your gorgeous ass." Soon he's coming too.
When she settles she turns to Robin. "I only agreed to meet at your house today because you said Pop would be here too."
"Hey." He puts his hands up like he's innocent. "How was I supposed to know he'd want to take the kids to story time?"
"Uh, maybe the big red circle on the calendar hanging on your fridge with the words Take Kids to Storytime?"
Robin grins like he has no regrets. "I guess I didn't notice."
"You're a cop, Robin. You notice everything."
"You really think having my grandfather here would have stopped us?"
She lets out a reluctant sigh. "You're right. We have no self-control. It's the pregnancy hormones, for me. What's your excuse?"
"Your breasts," he says, without missing a beat.
She raises a questioning brow.
"They're so big now. They were already perfect, but now they're...just…" He's staring at her chest like he's a starved man. "I'm already getting hard again looking at them."
"Stop looking at them!" She turns her back to him.
"And now I'm looking at your backside. And remembering how hot you were just a few minutes ago, fucking my cock. You were so crazy and determined and sexy—"
"Stop talking! And looking."
There's only one solution to their problem, one that was intended for this point in their contractual relationship all along. "Obviously the only thing that can stop us is to not spend time together."
"I suppose that is obvious," he says slowly.
"We have the library fair this Saturday."
He trails behind her. "That's just a few days away."
"And we've figured out everything we need for it. There shouldn't be any other reason we need to meet before then."
"So we're good. This can really be the last time if we want it to be."
"It was the last time, Robin."
"That's totally what I meant." But he's smirking again.
"Well, I should get going."
"What are you up to for the rest of the day?"
"I don't want to tell you." She's stalling.
"Now you have to tell me."
"You'll laugh at me."
"I'll find out. I'm a cop. I have ways."
"Okay, I'll tell you. But you have to promise not to make fun."
"I can't promise that."
"I'm going to Babies R Us to register for baby stuff."
He doesn't laugh, but she thinks it's because he's too stunned. "Regina, you're only six weeks pregnant."
"So?"
"You have thirty-four more weeks to go."
"I like to get things started early."
"No one registers this early. No one."
"You don't know that."
Robin is chuckling now. "You haven't even seen your OB yet."
"Only because he couldn't get me in yet."
"Have you even had time to research everything you need?" he asks eventually.
"I've been researching since before I even got pregnant. Duh."
"Well." God, his smirk. She could drown in his grin. "You'll want a feeding pillow."
"Got it on the list."
"And a decent carrier so you can wear your baby. There are a lot of different options and a lot of them are crap. I tried a bunch with Belle's kids. My advice—don't get the cheap ones."
She imagines him wearing a carrier, a sleepy newborn pressed against his chest, and suddenly she can't breathe. "Okay."
"What about car seats? What brand are you getting? Do you know which one is safest?"
He has a lot of good questions, and she's sure she could look up reviews online, but right now all she wants is the one he wants. The one he thinks is best. "Do you have one you recommend?"
"There are a few that are better than others. It really depends what options there are."
And there are a lot of options. She's sure.
"I should probably just come with you," he says at the same time she says "Maybe you should just come with me."
"Want me to drive or…?"
"I'll drive, then I can just drop you off on my way back home."
He goes to grab his house key and makes sure he has his wallet. When he comes back he hesitates. "This is spending more time together. Is that going to be okay?"
"We already banged, so I'm sure it's fine."
"Right, because there's no way we'd end up banging twice in the same day."
Yeah. She's totally in trouble.
Robin walks around the display crib, examining it from every angle. He even bends down to look at the legs and the base. When he stands again, he's frowning. "I don't like this one."
"Why? It's cute. I like the scalloped woodwork." She sees nothing wrong with it herself. And it's the one the store says is their bestseller. That has to say something.
"You can't buy baby furniture just because it's cute, Regina." He points at the side where the mattress meets the front panel. "This is a regular-sized mattress in here and there's a gap at the side. There should be no gap at all. This isn't safe. I don't like it."
"Oh." Now she's frowning too. "I didn't notice that."
"Cribs are responsible for more deaths than any other nursery product. You have to be really careful about them." He walks over to a less decorative crib behind the popular one. "This one has much better crafting. And it has a better standards rating on Consumer Reports. I looked it up while you were going gaga over the bedding with all the books."
He's referring to the Land of Stories bed set she'd found. "I wasn't going gaga. It was just a cute idea." It was patterned with children's classic books like Alice in Wonderland and The Adventures of Robin Hood. She added it to the registry, of course.
"Yeah, yeah, cute idea." He nods again to the crib. "We should get this one."
"You mean I should get that one."
"That's what I said."
"You added the feeding pillow to the list?" he asks as they turn down the nursing aisle.
"I told you I did." She checks to make sure she did.
When she looks up again, he's holding up the two pumps from a double electric breast pump on display to his chest. "Please, please, please can we get these?"
She rolls her eyes. "Oh my God. Are you twelve?"
"This is like having a video game on your chest." He pretends to shoot the pumps in her direction.
She snatches one out of his hand. "Yeah, that's exactly what it's like."
"I'd never leave my house." He's examining the remaining pump, as if trying to figure out how he could make one of his own.
"You'd never leave the house if you had breasts, period." She puts it back on the shelf.
He stands over her shoulder to look at the screen of the registry iPad. "Put it on the list. Put it on. Put. It. On."
Shaking her head, she adds it to the list.
The next aisle is dedicated to medicines and related baby needs. "I'm adding diaper cream, Purell, baby Tylenol and Mylicon drops."
"Good, good." Robin wanders ahead of her and stops at the Vaseline. "Petroleum Jelly? Put lots of that on there."
"It's not for what you think it's for."
"It says multi-purpose, love." He moves farther down the aisle. "Add the Lanolin ointment too. Belle's nipples were cracked and nasty. You're going to want that."
"Are you telling me my nipples are going to be nasty?"
"No, not your nipples, babe. Never. But they might hurt. So put the ointment down. Gel packs too that you can stick in the freezer."
"'Kay. Got it down."
They split up at the travel systems, and she spends her time looking at the jogging strollers wondering if she should take up running just so she can get one of the slick carriages.
"This is the travel system I'd get," he says, pointing to a sleek convertible stroller with an accompanying infant car seat. "Except…" He moves some boxes around, looking to see if there's another option. "I guess you have to go with this one."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing's wrong with it. It just has two bases." He won't meet her eyes when he says it, as though it bothers him to tell her.
"For two different cars. So you can move the carrier back and forth."
"Well, maybe I'll have a babysitter or something who could use it."
"Yeah, good thinking."
She feels horrible, because it's not like he would be using the carrier, coming to get their baby every other weekend.
"Can we get one of these in my size?"
She looks over to see Robin holding up a onesie that reads Tit Faced.
"No. We cannot." But it makes her laugh, and she needs that right now.
"Fine." He puts it back. "You definitely should put this one on the list, though." He holds up another onesie that says I'm Proof that My Mommy Puts Out.
She's laughing again. "If I put that on the registry, I guarantee you, Belle will be the one to buy it."
"Ew. I do not like to think about Belle thinking about you putting out. With me." He puts the onesie back on the rack.
"But she doesn't know I put out with you."
"But I do. And it's weird." He tucks an article of clothing under his arm. "We're getting this for sure."
"I'm not getting anything right now. What do you have?"
"I'm buying it, so don't you worry about it." Apparently, Robin doesn't believe in the bad luck karma.
She grabs the onesie from him, sure it's the Captain Adorable outfit that she already saw (and added to the registry). But it's not. It's a simple white onesie with black letters that say My Mom is Beautiful.
Her chest knots and she looks up at Robin.
He shrugs like it's no big deal. "Someone needs to remind you when I'm not around."
Then he's thinking about that too. About how he's not going to be involved.
She lets him buy it for her. For them. For his baby.
And so she'll remember when he's not around.
Robin pulls into his driveway and turns off his car. "Here are your keys, Grandma."
Regina giggles. He's referring to how cautiously she drove when she was behind the wheel. "That's why I let you drive this time. I couldn't take you watching my every move."
"I wasn't watching your every move," he says, but he can't look at her because he knows he's lying.
"'The speed limit's forty-five here. You can go a little faster." Regina says in her best Robin's impersonation.
"I was being helpful." His grin is wide.
"I knew the speed limit. Officer."
"Then why weren't you going faster?"
"Because I was afraid you'd tell me I was speeding."
He twists in his seat, as much as his large frame can against the steering wheel in her small car, anyway. "Let me tell you a secret." He lowers his voice and bends near. "I speed. All the time."
"I know. I was watching."
He chuckles softly, a light rumble against his throat. His smile fades as he reaches out to sweep a tendril of hair off her face. She slants toward him, wanting his skin against hers.
He moves with her, turning his hand so his palm can cup her face.
"Regina…" he says, letting the end sounds of her name trail off and up, like a prayer, and her chest expands because she swears she'll know the meaning of that prayer.
She wants more, more of this with him.
She wants to tell him.
The words are trapped, just inside her mouth. I don't want this to end.
She doesn't want this to end.
"Robin?" She practices the words again in her head. I don't want this to end. Please don't let this end.
"Yes, love? I'm listening," he says reassuringly, as if he knows what she's about to say. That she's about to change everything.
And then his phone rings.
He groans in frustration. "I'm sorry, love Gotta get this. It's work."
She's used to this. He's had to answer calls before when they've been together, even had to leave two or three times to go work a serious accident. It's the life of a cop, he's told her. They always have to be prepared. Always have to be on standby. It's usually no big deal.
But this time is different.
He doesn't say much, mostly it's, "Yeah." And "Uh huh." It's not his words that give him away, but his expression. It's gone hard and cold when just a moment ago he was open and warm. The crease at his brows sharpens, and though he's not quite frowning, she can feel the edges of his lips wanting to curl down.
Then there's an "Of course," and he hangs up.
"What's wrong?"
His head shakes dismissively. "Nothing. Something at work." He pockets his phone, taking the opportunity to not look at her.
"What is it, Robin? You can tell me."
He grips the steering wheel and pushes back, flexing his arm muscles, and she can tell he's struggling.
"Please. Tell me?"
"A guy on the force got killed today." Finally, he glances over at her. His eyes are stormy. "Graham Hunter."
"Oh, baby. I'm sorry." She puts her hand on his arm. He doesn't' say anything, and she knows he's trying to keep it together.
"How did he die?"
He swallows. "It's crazy really. Routine traffic stop."
"A routine traffic stop?"
"I know him quite well." He blinks then corrects himself. "I knew him well. Sarge said he had pulled someone over for a busted light, and while he was giving the ticket, a drunk driver came by, hit him, and took off."
"Oh my God," Regina whispers, but what she is thinking is that could have been Robin. "Are you okay?" She wants him to turn and let her hold him, but now, just as much, she wants him to hold her. Because she's not sure she's okay.
He remains somber though, staring out the front window at his garage door. Focused on the details and not on the pain. "This loss is going to be hard on the force. It's the second death we've had in the line of duty in the last couple of years. Graham was young too. He's leaving behind a wife and two boys. I don't even think the oldest is in school yet."
"That's awful." Her voice breaks and a tear slips down her cheek. That could have been Robin and that wife could have been her, and while he's stoically handling the very real death of his friend, she's barely holding on over the realization that cops' jobs are dangerous. Barely holding on over the realization that Robin could die.
He hears the crack in her voice and turns toward her, alarmed. "Oh, love." He wipes the tear off her face. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
"It's a sad situation. And I'm hormonal. It's not your fault."
"Even so, I'm used to this shit. It's part of the job. I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you."
She wants him to dump it on her. Let her be there for him.
"I should go," he says.
All the things she wanted to say before his phone call are long gone, and as she drives away she's no longer worrying about their end; she's worrying about Robin's end.
It's a late lesson to learn, but now that she has she can't stop focusing on it. He's a cop. And cops die.
Robin is going to die.
She's still thinking about it at work later. Still thinking about the dead officer.
She feels terrible for the family that lost a husband and father, and she can't stop thinking about how she'd feel if she was the officer's widow. She can't even begin to imagine how Robin is feeling. In the back room she pulls up the database to see what Robin has checked out.
What to Expect When You're Expecting
Mayo Clinic Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy
The Expectant Father
The Healthy Pregnancy Book
The Pregnancy Countdown Book: Nine Months of Practical Tips, Useful Advice, and Uncensored Truths
and World War Z
At the sight of the last title, she laughs. A book about the zombie apocalypse seems out of place in the company of the other books he's checked out. Books about babies and gestation and women's bodies changing with the growth of life. Books he's obviously checked out because of her. Because his child is living inside of her.
She doesn't want him to die and she doesn't want to lose him, and she wants more and she doesn't want things to end because she loves him.
She's in love with him.
She's such a fool. Such a stupid, stupid fool. It's been there all along, but she couldn't admit it. She didn't want to admit it.
And it's not because of the orgasms. Or his uniform. Or those sexy aviators he wears. Or his stubble. Or because she's filled with pregnancy hormones. It's not because he cares about justice and body cameras and Captain America. Or the way he takes care of his nephews. It's not how he handles Violet or talks about his mother or how he moved in with Pop to look after him.
And it's not the way he makes her feel alive and fun. Or how he makes her feel beautiful. Or how he cares about her having her baby. Or because he gave her a baby. Or even how he bothered to check out pregnancy books.
It's not any one of those things. It's all of those things. It's all of Robin.
She's been scared to say it because she'd have to look at her life and decide if she could be brave enough to try to fit him in. But now she can't ignore it any longer, and she has no choice but to look and see what they could be.
And it's nothing.
Because even if Robin wants to make something work between them, even if he wants to be a couple and raise their child with her, even if he is the rare unicorn of a guy who doesn't leave—and those are a lot of seemingly impossible ifs to overcome, but if he could, he'd still be a guy in a dangerous job. He'd still be a guy who has the very real potential of encountering a criminal or a drunk driver or an angry cop killer.
He could die.
And that would destroy her.
But the worst part is that she's not the only one he'd leave behind, and that thought hurts more than she can bear. It's one thing for her to single-handedly raise a child who has never known a father, but to try to make up for the loss of a parent is an entirely different thing.
She can't stand the idea of her kid with that kind of wound.
She can't imagine the hole that Robin's absence would create if he orphaned a child while in the line of duty. She can't handle the thought of comforting that kind of heartache in someone else, let alone in herself. So the words she said this morning have to stand. They can't see each other after Saturday. They have to be done. Done having sex. Done shopping for baby things together. Done dancing around emotions they don't want to face.
Just done.
The civic fair at the library comes together perfectly, of course, because Regina Mills is perfect and amazing at her job and also this little city can step pretty lively when it wants to. The parking lot has been cleared of cars and is currently hosting fire trucks, ambulances, police cars and several stalls from local businesses and restaurants, handing out coupons and ice cream and balloon animals for the kids.
He was nervous about his presentation at the beginning of the fair, even though he's generally pretty confident when it comes to these kinds of things, but usually if he' giving a presentation, it's at a meeting full of city employees and other cops. Not in front of real, honest to God civilians, and not in front of his sister and not in front of the woman who is pregnant with his child.
The woman he can't get enough of, no matter how hard he tries. The woman who is breaking down every single fucking wall he has.
Plus, it's a high stakes issue for him, especially after Graham's death. He has to present his case for body cameras in a compelling enough light that he gets five hundred signatures out of this fair. And while there are easily more than five hundred people here, a majority of them will definitely need to sign his petition if he is going to hit his target number.
"This is Officer Graham Hunter. He was thirty-five, in the Army for six years before he went blue, and he has two children. I rode in his funeral escort yesterday." A sound rippled through the people in the parking lot, a collective exhale of sadness at the mention of his death. He appreciated the sadness, the real and tangible expression of it, and yet sadness on its own wasn't enough to change anything. "He was working a routine accident on 75th Street when he was struck and killed by a drunk driver. It was a hit and run, and because he was riding his police motorcycle that day, he didn't have a dashboard camera to record the events. The hit and run driver still hasn't been found—but maybe, if Graham had been wearing a body camera, we would have footage of the car. Maybe his family would have some closure."
People were nodding by this point, and Robin continued. "This isn't meant to supersede other reasons why getting body cameras is imperative. A police officer's life is not worth more than a civilian's. But I'm telling you about Graham to highlight the point that this upgrade benefits civilians and officers. And I hope you'll keep that in mind as we circulate the petition around. Thank you."
There was a healthy smattering of applause, a lot of people coming up to ask questions and talk afterward, and then his part was over. Now, all he can do is wait until the end of the fair to see how full the signature sheet is.
After he's done talking to various citizens and media people, he feels a graze on his arm. It's Regina, a smile on her face and the near-summer breeze playing with loose tendrils of her hair. He has a bit of post-presentation adrenaline and she's so fucking beautiful. He goes to lean down to kiss her.
To his surprise, she pushes him away, casting a nervous glance around. "Robin! Belle's here!"
"I don't care."
"I care," she protests, still looking around. "And we said—remember, we said that last time was the last time."
"I need one more last time."
Belle comes up to them now, Robin watches as Regina slowly moves away from him.
"Robert has got the kids here to see the trucks and stuff. And I was wondering if you would mind taking them tonight after the fair winds down? Just for a few hours?"
"Of course," Robin answers.
"Excellent," Belle pronounces. "Robert and I are going on a double date. His friend Keith is in town, and—"
Robin doesn't really absorb the rest of what she's saying because he's watching Regina as she approaches the double doors of the library, and she's being intercepted by Robert and the boys and a guy that Robin doesn't recognize.
Robin sees red as he leans in and gives Regina a hug—like a real, I am a man who likes your body hug where their chests touch and his hands move gently on her shoulder blades and he drops a kiss on her cheek.
He practically bellows at this; He almost roars like an angry lion. And then he starts towards them, nothing in his mind but getting between them, staking his claim. But by the time he's halfway across the parking lot, Robert and the kids and this new guy are drifting over to the face-painting station, and Regina is walking back into the library. Belle is keeping pace with him, and he realizes she's talking.
"Sorry, what?" Robin asks.
"I was saying that Regina was talking to Keith just then. He's her date tonight."
His legs make it two more steps before his mind absorbs the words. Then he stops. Like his feet are bolted to the asphalt.
"What did you say?"
"Keith's in town, and I thought I might try to hook him up with Regina since she needs a good man to shake her out of her 'no man' funk, and since he's a novelist and since she's a librarian, I thought they'd be a good fit. Also he's super fucking hot."
Robin growls in his throat.
She holds up her hands. "Whoa, tiger."
"Regina is going on a date tonight with him tonight?"
"Yes, she is."
"She's not fucking going on a date. Not with some other guy."
"Don't even start with me, Robin Locksley," Belle says, grabbing his arm and making them stop. She steps in front of him so that he has to look at her. "You had your chance with her, and you blew it. And besides, you aren't interested in anything more anyway, right? Why the fuck do you care what Regina does?"
Because she's his.
Because her baby's his.
But no, it isn't even those things, or at least it's more than them.
It's because he loves her.
The thought, with that one word like a flashlight swinging in the darkness of his mind, nearly takes him out at the knees. He loves her. He is in love with Regina Mills, sexy and careful and stubborn and fragile as she is, he is so fucking crazy in love with her.
"It's nothing." Robin says.
"I care about that woman, Robin, so it is important to me. Tell me you're not going to upset her. Tell me you're not going to go in there and make things more complicated for her."
"I can't tell you that."
"At least tell me you're not going to be a dick."
"I'm not going to be a dick."
With a sigh, Belle steps to the side. "Don't make me regret this," she warns him. "She better be on that date with Keith tonight."
After the warm sunlight outside, the library feels unnaturally dark and cool inside, a spacious cave lined with books. And it's nearly empty—aside from a lonely sort of beeping from the shelving room behind the desk, there's no other sign of human presence. Everyone is outside enjoying the perfect weather and free ice cream.
There's a flash of a white blouse towards the rightmost opening to the stacks. Robin heads towards the movement, not even thinking any more, just doing, just acting. He turns the corner to see Regina disappear between two rows of shelves, a book in her hand. He hurries up to her.
She turns and gives a little jump, sucking in her breath. "Robin, you scared me—"
"You're going on a date tonight?"
"Yes," she whispers. "But…"
"But what, Regina? But you weren't going to tell me? But you were just going to let another man touch you and want you?"
"I had to get Belle to stop bothering me about it, and you know what? It doesn't matter. We said we were done."
"We might be a lot of things. But done is not fucking one of them."
And then he brings her mouth crashing down against hers, a hard and hungry kiss that has her responding instantly, like he'd dropped a match into a puddle of kerosene. She's pressing against him, her hands snaking into vicious pulls of his hair, digging points into the muscles of his arms. He can hear her noises, the unwilling pants and sighs she makes as she practically tries to climb his body, as his hands find her ass and her tits and her inner thighs.
With a frustrated grunt, he yanks the zipper of her pencil skirt down past her ass and then together they tug the damn thing up past her hips. He doesn't wait for it to move up any farther; he breaks their kiss to concentrate on getting his fingers into her, where he can show her exactly how done they are.
"Let's see if you're wet for me," his fingers move closer to her.
She's wet for him.
The minute his two fingers nudge her entrance, she's grinding down on his hand and literally fucking herself on his fingers. He doesn't have to move them, he doesn't have to say anything to her, her body simply feels him and instinctively tries to come.
It's the hottest goddamn thing in the world.
"Do that on my cock."
She looks up at him with hungry eyes and swollen lips. "But what if a patron…"
"I don't fucking care."
"But someone could see…" her protest is faint though, full of longing.
"I'll be on the lookout, move for me, love." He unzips.
"Oh God," she moans.
Regina wriggles out of her thong and takes his cock in her hand, licking her lips as she rubs a thumb over his slit and smears the small teardrop of precum across his crown. "This is wrong," she whispers, and he doesn't know if she means fucking in the stacks or fucking him after they said we were done.
And it doesn't matter.
She turns so that she's facing away from him, puts one elegantly high-heeled foot up on a shelf, and then guides his tip to her swollen and needy opening. She slides herself back against his shaft, letting out a shaky breath as her foot drops off the shelf. He doesn't let her lean forward, instead placing an arm across her belly and curling a hand around her neck to keep her as upright as possible.
"Now move."
She whimpers a little, a whimper of pure, defeated desire, and then she starts to move.
She circles.
She grinds.
Here in the stacks, with her skirt around her waist and her high heels making dents in the industrial carpet, she rubs herself inside with his cock. And with his police uniform undone enough to show his cock, with his hair rumpled from her pulling it and her lip gloss still on her mouth.
"Does he know my baby's inside you? Does your date know that you're mine?" Robin asks.
"I'm not yours," she says, but her voice betrays her, breaking and uncertain. And she keeps herself speared on his cock. "We don't belong to each other."
"That's bullshit, and you know it." He pulls out.
"Give it back," she pleads, turning to him. "I need it."
"You need it?"
"That doesn't mean anything," she says. "It just means I'm hormonal. It just means we're sexually compatible." But she sounds like even she knows her words are lies. She's not fooling either of them.
He thrusts into her, she's so wet that it's an easy stroke back in. Her head falls forward against his shoulder as he bottoms out and he's somewhere deep inside her.
"You're mine, princess. You were mine the moment you let me feel you bare in that restaurant. You were mine the moment you let me kiss you so dirty outside of it. And you were definitely mine when you came around my cock and hoped I'd put a baby inside you."
"I'm not yours," she mumbles. And then another kiss and lick and nibble. "Oh fuck, Robin, just like that, it's so deep, Jesus, so fucking deep."
"You think another man can make you come like I do?"
Finally, honesty. She shakes her head. "No," she breathes against his neck. "Only you."
"Fucking right there's only me. And there's only you, love. No woman makes me as hard and big as you do."
She moans.
"I didn't mean for it to happen, Regina, I promise. I never meant for it to happen and I didn't think I even could, but I've fallen for you. I want to give you more than a baby, I want to give you me. I want to give you everything."
Her head comes up, her body going tense and rigid in his arms. "Robin, don't," she begs in a whisper, her panicked eyes looking into his. "Don't say it. It'll just make it harder."
Something cracks open in his chest, something dark.
"You don't want to hear it?" he asks. Then he starts pumping long and hard inside her.
He can't roar out his orgasm in the middle of this quiet library, so he growls his way through it, grunting with each thick pulse of his cum, each eruption of his hot, angry release. She takes him, takes it all, every cruel thrust and every surge, still whispering his name in that prayer voice as his own orgasm keeps hers going and going and going.
It takes a long time to unload in her, his balls are so full. But eventually, finally, they are both still, both panting and dizzy and emptied out.
When it's over and everything is righted, Regina turns to him. "I'm still not yours, Robin. And you can't be mine."
"Regina, I—"
"Don't say it," she pleads, her eyes starting to shine. "You can't say it."
"Let me," he pleads, taking her face in his hands.
She shakes her head, dewdrops of pain starting to form on her lashes. "You'll leave. All men do."
"No, Regina. I'm not going to leave."
"You're going to want other women."
"No, it's you, baby. I choose you. There's no one else after you or beside you, there's nothing I want other than our real thing."
She swallows and blinks away, tears spilling out of her eyes now. "You're going to die."
"Everyone's going to die. That doesn't mean we stop living." Robin swipes her tears away.
"You have to go get the boys, and I have to get ready to close the building. We can't do this."
"We have to do this, because I'm not giving up."
"You should," she says in a hollow voice, pulling away from him.
And then she walks down the aisle of books and disappears, leaving his thumbs still wet with her tears and his chest wet and sawed wide open with pain.
"What did Robin do to you?" Belle asks as she comes up to Regina.
"What?" Regina asks.
"You're crying, he made you cry." Belle said.
"I'm pregnant, Belle. I cry at everything."
"Tell me then. What thing set it off?"
"Those boys, those two boys."
"Officer Hunter's?"
"They're going to grow up without a father now, just because their dad was trying to be one of the good guys." Belle pulls Regina in a hug.
"But death is a risk that goes with the good guy thing. Gran never liked that part of Robin's job. I think she worried about it until the day she died. Honestly, it's probably why Robin doesn't let anyone get too close to him." She leans away to meet her eyes.
"Graham's wife knew what she was getting into before she married him, if that makes you feel better. She chose him anyway."
"His kids didn't get a choice. Now they're fatherless."
"That is worth crying about," she concedes. "Losing a parent while you're young is especially hard."
"Do you need to cancel tonight?"
"Yeah." Relief wraps around Regina. "I do. I'm sorry."
"No problem. I understand. I'll make an excuse for you."
"Thank you. I owe you."
Someone is knocking on Regina's door the next morning. Regina sees who it is and doesn't answer.
"Please. I need to talk to you."
Regina knows they need to talk, so she lets him in. They go into her living room and sit on the couch.
"Robin, I'm—"
"Please," he interrupts. "Let me go first."
"Okay."
"I was in patrol before I was in traffic," he starts. "Two years. It's exactly the kind of job that you think it will be. Standard 9-1-1 calls. Checks on the elderly. Domestic violence. Lots of home burglaries and car burglaries. Every time you show up at a call, you know you're going to see the worst of people."
"Even when you're checking on a senior, if the person's not dead when you get there—which they sometimes are—there's still a reason why the cops have been called. The house smells. The yard's neglected. It's pretty grim when a person's gotten too old or demented to care for him or herself and there's no one to step in and figure out the next step but us."
After glancing at her, he points somewhere down the street. "I used to check on a senior that lived over there. Mrs. Rayne. I helped her shovel snow. And I was the one who went in and found her body when the neighbor told us they hadn't seen her in a week."
"I had no idea. I'm so sorry."
"The first time I came here, you asked me what was wrong. Do you remember that?"
Regina nods.
"That was who I was thinking about. Mrs. Rayne."
"You should have told me,"
"There's that kind of story everywhere, though. Every street, every corner of the city holds an imprint. I couldn't unload all of that on you."
"It's not good for you to carry this all by yourself all the time," Regina says. "Please don't think you always have to."
"I talk to Pop sometimes," he says, and while she's glad he has that comfort, the ache inside her intensifies knowing that it should have been her he leaned on. "It does start to wear on you. It gets under your skin and in your blood. You start to think it's all you are and all you're worth—the awful things you see, the terrible things that people do."
"That's not all you are, Robin." There's not a bone of awful in him. Not a bit of awful, and she can't stand the thought that he thinks any different.
But he puts a hand out, silencing her. "You're right. And I'm getting there. I promise."
"It's better in traffic, I should tell you. But you're never pulling someone over to tell them they're an excellent driver. And there's a lot of accidents, Regina" He lowers his voice, soberly. "You see a lot of death."
"I can't imagine, this isn't-"
"I'm rambling, but I have a point." He turns and looks at her directly. "I was only twenty-two when I got out of the academy. I wasn't thinking about families or kids. And when it came time, when other guys started settling down and getting married, I couldn't understand how they were able to do that. How they could take everything awful that the job was and is and bring it home to a spouse, let alone kids."
"I decided I could never do that. I'd never have kids. I'd never have a wife. I made sure my life didn't allow for those things to even be options."
"That was a smart decision." Regina agrees.
"No, that was a stupid decision, Regina." His sharp tone draws his focus back to him. "It was the stupidest decision, because I let the job define everything I am. But like you said, I'm more than that, kitten. I have more than that to give to you and to our kid—"
"Robin—" she warns. It's not our kid. It can't be.
He raises his voice to speak over her. "—and I'd forgotten that until I met you. But I remember now. You make me remember that I'm a whole person, and I want to be that whole person with you." He crosses to her and sits on the ottoman at his feet so he's close now. Too close. "I love you."
"Don't say that." But it's too late. He's said it and she heard it and it fills her everywhere like a light cast into a dark cellar. It's warm, his I love you, and she wants to hold it and claim it and never let it go. She'll never unhear it now.
"Why?" he asks with patient frustration. "Because it will go away if you don't hear the words? I love you, and you can't change that. I love you, and it doesn't mean I'm not afraid. It means you're worth being afraid for."
He stretches out his hand and rests it on top of his. "Be afraid with me, baby."
"I can't," she says as she gets up to pace the room.
He twists to face her. "Why not?"
"You weren't part of the plan. You're just a sperm donor." Regina winces at the hurt flickering in his eyes. It hurts her to say it, but he has to hear it. It's the truth.
He stands, unwilling to give up. "Can you tell me that you don't love me?"
No. I can't.
"It doesn't matter. This isn't about just me anymore. I can't be Graham Hunter's wife, trying to explain to my child why Daddy's not coming home tonight."
He takes a step toward her. "You think that cops are the only people who die? What about my mom? What about the young couple in the accident I worked on last week? They left behind four kids, Regina. There's no assurances no matter what."
Regina shakes her head.
"I get it, baby. I do." His voice is a balm, soothing and soft. "You're scared and it's okay to be scared. But you're so afraid of losing the thing you want that you won't let yourself have it in the first place."
Robin reaches for her, and her body leans toward him like metal pulled to a magnet.
But she can't do this. "Don't. I need a minute."
Regina goes to the bathroom and locks the door. She has to pee.
She doesn't know how to make this choice. What if she screws up? What if she chooses wrong?
Her head is still whirling as she finishes up. She wipes and is about to flush when something catches her eye. Something very red and very bad. She wipes again to be sure it's not just mild spotting.
It's not mild spotting. It's blood. Too much blood.
And suddenly the reasons for the panic and terror and anxiety she's been feeling seem small and ridiculous and out of place, and new panic and terror bursts out of her in a shrill scream of just one word.
"Robin!"
