He's thankful for the window ledge to support him, the will to keep standing fading as soon as she's gone. Part of him aches to bellow his rage into the empty cabin, swipe his hook across the table and send the remnants of her charade crashing to the floor below. The man he used to be would indulge this pain, let it seep into his bones and spark the villain he's constantly fighting to leave behind. But he is not that man, not anymore. And Emma, his Emma, she just gave him the one thing he needs. Hope.
All it took was the tiniest flicker, the downward turn of her mouth, her steadfast gaze broken as the lost girl once again reflected in her eyes at his refusal to declare his love. Of course he loves her. Emma. But he will not give that love to The Dark One. Vowing to hold fast against her desires to have both, she will have to choose between his love and the darkness. He's come too far. She's come too far.
For the first time in centuries, he finds himself thankful for The Crocodile. Having chased the bastard for so long, he knows The Dark One's tricks, has learned to parry and evade. He's seen the manipulation of Belle, how the fierce grip of power can override even the truest of love. If holding back that love is the only way to break through, he will do that, for Emma.
Folding the tablecloth over the plates, he carries the bundle up the stairs and onto the deck, not stopping until the entirety of "their date" is tossed into the sea. He will not linger here, will not let the pain in his heart steer him anywhere but back to shore. He has a mission, clearer now than before, and he knows just the thief to help.