Four days had passed since the disastrous catering appointment that resulted in Emma kissing Regina in a restaurant restroom. She had fled as fast as she could in an attempt to get some air and put some distance between Emma and herself.
Killian didn't even notice when Regina grabbed her unattended purse from the table, as she saw him over at the window chatting up a couple of college coeds. Regina hadn't felt like she could properly breathe until she made it home and into her room. She felt like her heart had ruptured and was slowly bleeding.
The thing Regina had quickly discovered is that it was nearly impossible to quit planning the wedding.
She was the contact for the florists, decorators, cruise ship and caterer, and the calls kept coming. Probably because she had been so adamant that every detail or minute change had to be personally approved by her, since the wedding was being planned so quickly and nothing could slip through the cracks. She found herself fielding calls from everything ranging from the candle holders to the place cards, and it all felt overwhelming and bleak.
Now Regina was the one slipping through the cracks, and as brave as she had been to tell Emma her true opinion, she now cowardly avoided her. But blackout curtains and red wine couldn't remove the sense memory of sweet lips against hers, or the painful ache that had settled into her chest.
She had always been a proponent of the old adage that time could heal all wounds. She had nearly forgiven her mother for forcing her to marry an old man and it had only taken sixteen years. She had only known Emma for a few weeks so it shouldn't take hardly any time to get over her, and Regina wondered bitterly if there was nothing to get over then why did four days of isolation, wine and Netflix not make a dent in the pain she was experiencing.
The thought of spending the weekend alone in her big bed, listening to her phone chime with updates on Emma's wedding was maddening. The trouble was she had to look at her phone and make a decision. It could ruin her professional reputation if she bailed and broke her contract on a wedding of this caliber. The Blanchard's were grossly rich and well connected with every upper class old money family in the greater Boston area if not the entire East Coast.
If she quit as the miracle working pinch hitter wedding planner for the Blanchard's only child on her shiny white wedding day, Regina would undoubtedly be blacklisted. She'd never get another planning job, save for maybe a pity Child's birthday here or there. If she didn't want her future to consist of booking bouncy castles and ordering 'Frozen' themed princess cakes, she was going to have to answer Emma's incessant calls at some point.
Regina rolled over in bed to look at her clock. It was Friday afternoon, and she'd been in hiding for nearly four days. It was time to get up and swallow her pride. She picked up her phone, swiped in the passcode and listened to one of the voicemails that Emma had left:
"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have kissed you…it just seemed like the only thing I could do…Please talk to me."
She'd already listened to it so many times she had the sad desperate sincere tone of Emma's voice etched into her mind. She knew the message by heart forwards and backwards, and she wholly realized she was acting like a pathetic wreck. She'd had year's long relationships that ended and she hadn't been nearly so bent out of shape. It was becoming disturbing how the more she tried to put Emma and her big bag of gay wedding bullshit out of her mind, the more she dwelled on it.
After sleeping for another hour, she felt completely restless. She wanted to get up, but she had nowhere to go. It was times like these that Regina realized why she kept her so busy and focused on work. She didn't want to feel the loneliness in such a puncturing and invasive way. She was also reminded of why she had tried to close herself off to relationships and dating, especially unattainable client's daughters who were about to wed disgusting misogynists. Been there, done that, Regina thought wryly.
After a long hot shower where she was able to turn her mind off and truly gain a moment of peace, Regina decided she needed to talk to Emma and clear the air as best as she possibly could. She picked up her phone and was about to dial when the sound of it ringing and vibrating in her hand startled her.
She stared at the Caller ID and her lips parted in fear. Emma was calling her again. She let it ring twice more and debated on letting it roll over to voicemail, but before the next ring she punched the green button and placed the device to her ear.
She heard a soft gasp on the other end of the line and low music in the background. Emma's voice was timid and carried over a hint of surprise when she spoke, "You answered."
"Yes," Regina said unable to gather any coherent thoughts.
"I-I'm glad. I wanted to talk to you…all week," Emma continued, and the music in the background seemed to swell and get louder. "Leave it to fate that Adele put out a new album right when I'm in the middle of an emotional crisis."
"Is that what that noise is in the background? Adele?" Regina asked straining to hear and sure enough it was the chorus, "Hello from the other side…."
"Yeah, I've had it on repeat here," Emma admitted, and Regina could almost picture the blonde curled up on her sofa or sitting in bed, smiling sheepishly and bowing her head at getting caught.
Then the awkward silence kicked in as they both sat on opposite ends of the phone line, neither woman sure as to where to begin.
It was strange that the anxious nervousness that had plagued Regina all week had suddenly calmed down. She couldn't remember exactly what she had been so afraid of. Emma made her feel comfortable; it was everything going on around her that caused Regina strife.
"So…." Emma started in hesitation. "I talked to my parents and I told them that I don't want to marry Killian."
Regina held her breath at the topic starter. From Emma's quietness she was certain that although it sounded like a step in the right direction, this wasn't the good news she had secretly hoped for.
"They were…kind of understanding, but still acted so dismissive of my feelings, and I had to agree to couple's therapy to get to the root of our issues," Emma said brokenly. "I'm sitting alone at the Ritz Carlton in a suite, because my mom insisted on giving Killian a weekend of pampering to get away and reconnect or something."
Regina was confused. Emma was at the Ritz listening to Adele in a suite. "You're by yourself?"
"Yeah, but don't tell my mom that Killian didn't come along. The weekend package includes an all-inclusive spa day, but when Kill found out it wasn't like his favorite rub n' tug massage parlor where instead of a pedicure the girl just sucks his toes, he decided to go to the Shipyard and get wasted with his friends this weekend."
"So you're alone?" Regina asked again. She wondered why Emma was telling her about the hotel and she still didn't know if the wedding was on or off. Regina was really starting to hate Emma's parents.
Emma sighed deeply on the other end of the line and whispered sadly, "I don't want to be."
Regina perked up at the tone of longing in Emma's voice and licked her lips gingerly, "Are you inviting me to come…talk?"
"I mean if you're not like busy or whatever…I could use a friend right now," Emma made the statement without really asking a question, and Regina couldn't believe that she was actually considering going to meet her in a hotel room.
"It would be a waste if this extra spa day went unused, or I guess I could just get two massages, but I'd prefer…" Emma was rambling and cut herself off before she said anymore of what her preferences were. Regina hated that she found the uncertainty adorable.
"What's your room number?" Regina seemed to be the one asking all the questions, banging her palm against her head, even as she blatantly went against her own better judgment.
"658!" Emma practically shouted the room number, excitement evident in her voice. Clearly, she hadn't expected Regina to agree, especially after avoiding her calls all week. "I promise to turn down the Adele if you promise to spend the night?"
Regina felt the whole implication of that question rattle her to the core as a pang of arousal hit her squarely. "Emma, I'll come talk to you…to work things out."
"Fine, no promises," Emma agreed sadly. Regina had been in this situation before with Emma. It was starting to get redundant: the sheer number of thoughts and the overwhelming desire for the forlorn bride to be had her agreeing to foolish arrangements, and testing her self-control time and again.
"I'll see you soon," Regina nodded resolutely even though Emma couldn't see her, it was a gesture to steel herself as she wondered if she was going in too deep this time around. She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath.
She was trapped between a champagne goblet and a cake serving set. If she quit planning the wedding, her reputation would be irrevocably tarnished, and if she acted on her feelings and word got out that she broke up the marriage between her clients, that would be even more detrimental. Still, perhaps she was going through some rebellion of her own, and the thoughts and feelings she was dealing with made her reckless.
There was something cavalier and naughty in the whole endeavor and she had to admit to herself that her intentions with Emma were less than her normal idea of moral and ethical when it came to business. Still the thought of seeing her carried an unexpected exuberance and giddiness that eased the tension in her chest, and as she left her house to drive downtown, she realized she hadn't felt exactly that way since she was a teenager.
Traffic was relatively light flowing into the city and Regina stared at the taillights ahead of her in anticipation. She valeted her Benz, grimacing a bit when the idea that she may have to make a quick getaway if this meeting and subsequent talk with Emma didn't go well. She slid the valet ticket in her wallet and stepped into the lobby of the lavish Ritz.
They were just going to see how things went, there was no pressure and she reminded herself she hadn't done anything wrong. Things were in stasis; up in the air. She hadn't breached her contract, nor had Emma alled off the wedding…yet.
She entered the elevator with confidence, pleased that she was the only person in the car so she took the opportunity to check her makeup in the mirrored doors. If she looked close enough, she could see the dark circles tinged with red around her eyes. She examined the soft wrinkles that reminded her that time was fleeting, and so was her opportunity to find true happiness.
Her confidence vanishedhe moment she stepped out of the elevator and stared down the long hallway of the sixth floor. She found the room easily and smirked when she stood in front of the door listening to faint strands of music coming from within.
Regina knocked with business like precision and straightened her spine. Emma answered after a moment, and they both inhaled deeply as they regarded one another, fumbling like strangers with their guarded exchange of greetings.
"You're really here," Emma sniffed once and turned around to allow Regina entry into the suite. "Come in, I'm just hanging out."
"Thank you," Regina watched Emma cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing her knees nervously. She sat down her purse on the desk chair and waited for Emma to break the ice.
"Um…drinks?" Emma asked, clearly searching for common ground. "If you want to get out of here, we could go down to the bar in the lobby. I hear they make a signature painkiller that can only be described as obliterating."
Regina chuckled softly as she nodded in agreement, weighing her options. Her palms felt clammy and the space between her shoulder blades felt overly tight. Her gaze zeroed in on Emma's tight t-shirt, "The Doors" was emblazed across her chest and Jim Morrison was staring out wearing a seductive look. Emma had cut a V in the neck of the shirt, and a strand of thread was unraveling.
Regina stalked forward unable to resist reaching forward to snap it off. Her knuckles brushed the warm skin of Emma's cleavage and the electric chemistry that they had become accustomed and enslaved to reared up between them.
"Drinks," Regina decided firmly. "I could definitely use a drink."
The elevator ride down to the bar was silent, both women stealing glances at one another: nervous and uncertain about everything.
The bar was dimly lit and elegant, unassuming and uncrowded. There were matching leather couches and chairs on each side of the bar along with the focal point of a large fireplace with stacked wood adding to the ambience. It was still early enough on a Friday that most tourists and travelers staying at the hotel were still out enjoying the fruits of the theater district or out at dinner.
A few suit clad businessmen were nursing martinis and relaxing. Emma pulled out two stools on the end and waved the bartender over, "Two painkillers, please."
Regina smoothed out the napkin that the bartender placed in front of her, and watched the bartender shake up their alcoholic concoctions and pour two glasses before sliding them in front of the women.
"Charge room 658 all night."
"So your mother is paying for us to get drunk tonight?" Regina raised an eyebrow.
"Damn straight she is," Emma held up her glass and Regina met it with her own, followed by a subdued 'cheers' and a tentative sip.
"I get the impression that you have some unresolved issues with your mother, Emma," Regina smiled around her glass, tasting fresh muddled blueberry amidst the vodka as she watched Emma closely for her reaction.
"You think?" She sighed as she rested her forearm on the bar. "I don't know if you're prepared to hear the half of it. I don't know if I even want to talk about her or the-."
"—Wedding?" Regina interrupted, tilting her head thoughtfully, and bringing her fingers up to softly glide over the back of Emma's hand. Her voice softened when Emma looked up through fluttering lashes, her lips slightly parted. "So don't…let's pretend we've only just met. I know nothing of you and you know nothing of me."
"Two strangers meeting at the Avery bar on a Friday night?" Emma asked airily her eyes never leaving Regina's. An erotic chill worked its way down her arm and loosened the space between her shoulders.
"Yes, two- women- enjoying a drink and each other's company for an evening," Regina contemplated in a low dangerous tone. "We're starting over tonight."
"I wish I could like reinvent myself. Start over, you know?"
Emma's knee bumped Regina's as they turned toward each other naturally, her breath hitched at the contact. It was like they had created a little bubble around themselves; their own private little world where only the moment at hand existed. This time and place and nothing more: no impending future wedding and no awkward past restroom kisses.
"I do," Regina confirmed as Emma swallowed the last of her first drink and ordered another round of painkillers.
"So what's girl like you, doing in a place like this?" Emma winked poorly and Regina threw her head back and laughed, recapturing lightness in her heart; her fingers still dancing over Emma's hand until she turned her palm face up and linked their fingers together.
