Thank you again for the love. Love reading your thoughts on this story.
Emma was completely addicted to her body. The delicate fingers that were suddenly strong and firm when she least expected it, the full lips painted with red but made distinctly hers with the tiny scar, her lovely neck that would grow taut and long when she was about to orgasm. Her hair. Her breasts. Her hips. The adorable dimple above her ass. She was ladylike but commanding, seductive but vulnerable, and Emma was utterly transfixed.
She couldn't stop her fingers from feeling and exploring. She couldn't stop making love to her. She didn't want to. And Despite Regina's promise that she would make Emma beg her to stop touching her, it was the brunette who squirmed away from her after midnight when Emma reached for her again.
"Emma. I can't. I'm too sensitive. You've broken me," Regina growled.
Emma smirked but took mercy on her. She gathered Regina into her arms, letting the brunette drop her head above her breast, planting a kiss there in thanks.
They were quiet for a while, just reveling in each other, relinquishing the need for words for the moment. Emma tightened her arms around her and nuzzled to nose into her hair, inhaling her scent and living more fully in the moment.
Regina broke the quiet first.
"You know, it's never been this easy for me with anyone," she said in a tiny voice. "My mother, she always viewed love as a weakness, the one thing that could break you, that could bring you down. And even though I knew in my heart that wasn't true, I don't think I ever let anyone in and really know me."
Emma shifted down on the pillow so they were eye to eye.
"What about Daniel? You obviously loved him," Emma said gently.
"I did, yes. And he loved me. I trusted him, too, and we were good together, but it was never this easy between us. He was such a wonderful man—so kind, so sweet. But I'm not sure he totally got me. And in his defense, we were so young, and I'm not sure how well I knew myself. There were things I couldn't share with him. And then, after he was taken from me, I think I just packed my heart in bubble wrap. I never wanted to feel that way again—all that pain—and so I wouldn't let anyone get close, except Henry."
"What things?"
"Hmm?"
"You said there were things that you couldn't share with him. But there's so much I don't know about you, so how do you know you can share those things with me?"
"I don't know how I know. It's just a feeling I guess. A feeling that you wouldn't judge me. Because we are such similar creatures in many ways. I feel like you would understand some of the darker parts of me that I was ashamed to share with Daniel. Or I didn't know how to share."
Emma smiled at that, relieved and happy Regina felt that way. She had those same thoughts—that she would tell Regina everything, share the private parts of her that no one else knew, not even Ruby, not even David.
"Do you still see your parents?"
"They've been out of my life for a long time—since what happened to Daniel. It's a long story, and I'll tell it to you sometime," Regina said, her voice steady but strained.
"You can tell me anything. I know you've been present during some of my more altruistic moments, but I'm not all sunshine and rainbows. It's not easy in the foster system, and I've done plenty of things I am not proud of, both out of self-preservation and because I'd become hardened and kind of numb."
Regina, who had been looking up and down the planes of Emma's body, tracing her outline gently with the pads of her fingers, raised her chin and looked into her girlfriend's eyes.
"It's not even about what you've done or haven't done, Emma. It's just a feeling I have. Like we're…"
"—connected?" Emma whispered.
Regina nodded, grazing Emma's face with her palm.
"Ok, I want to ask you something. But… you won't get mad?"
"Ask me," Regina said, her face impassive.
"Do you still… want to be a chef? Is that why your reviews are so harsh—because you're always measuring other chefs against what you think you would be in your own kitchen?"
Emma watched Regina's face tighten and cloud over, and she knew she'd said the wrong thing, and her stomach clenched uncomfortably.
Regina didn't speak at first. But when she did, her tone was strident and edgy.
"My reviews are harsh because they're real," Regina spat. "Too many reviewers try to make everyone their best friend, and they don't tell the truth. Do you take issue with my writing, Emma?"
Regina sat up straighter in bed, pulling the sheet over herself, suddenly avoiding Emma's eyes.
"Shit, no, listen to me. That's not… that's not what I'm saying," she said, trying to pull Regina back to her. But the brunette was already sinking back into herself before Emma's eyes.
"Your writing is amazing, and you have an uncanny ability to see right into a chef's deepest inadequacies. But I sometimes wonder if you focus on negative things—on the weaknesses—instead of the more positive things for a reason. That's all. I didn't mean anything by it."
Regina held her ground, eyes narrowed, her jaw fixed.
"Please, Regina. I'm not attacking you. I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds. But I want to know you. I don't want to walk on eggshells with you."
Emma pulled at Regina's crossed arms, trying one last time to get her to open up.
"Please, come here to me."
But the brunette shifted further away, suddenly clamped firmly shut, her walls once again firmly in place.
Emma slid herself quietly out of the bed, the mattress still warm from their hours of lovemaking, and began to dress. She kept her back to Regina, too afraid she'd lose her composure if she looked at her. When she was fully dressed, she turned back around.
"I think it's funny. Less than a minute ago you're telling me how much you trust me. Looks like it's a little less than you thought," Emma said, feeling the tears burning at her eyes. "Guess I'll see ya."
She walked swiftly to the door, opening it, stepping into the hall, and closing it softly behind her. She thought for a moment she her name, so she stopped. But Regina never came out, so she walked down the stairs, grabbed her jacket, and left, keeping her tears at bay until she got into the yellow bug. She slid her key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she drove home, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
Even though the crowds were light, Mondays were always busy. She took inventory, placed orders, wrote the week's menu, and chatted over a game plan with August. But she felt numb, lost in thought, and fighting the sickening, bone-crunching sensation of having inadvertently destroyed something that had become precious to her.
"August, when you do that skate wing tonight, make sure the pan is scalding hot, but don't rush it because I thought it was underdone last time."
"Gotcha. Anything else?"
"I want to do the salmon in that blood orange sauce we made at Charmings that time. I thought I'd seen a bunch in there last week. But I didn't see them today."
"We used them for a dessert last night. Do you want me to—"
"—lets do the spicy achiote instead."
"Ok. Swan?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't really seem fine. I know I've been giving you shit, but you've been on cloud nine, Emma. And now you seem… sad."
Emma looked down at her hands, trying to keep her composure. The emotions were embers burning just under the surface, and she didn't want to lose it at work.
"Emma, whatever happened, I have a feeling it's going to be fine. No one as smart as she is would let you go without a fight."
The chef's eyes shot up, shocked by his words, by his perceptiveness.
"How did you—"
"—Despite my appearance and my general cluelessness, I'm not a total idiot."
Emma gave him a smile.
"That's up for debate. But you are a good guy. Thanks for giving a shit," Emma said, balling up a fist and offering a pretend punch to his jaw.
Dinner was painfully light, just a handful of tables sprinkled throughout the night, and it made the time slow to a crawl. Staff was always light on Monday, but she sent almost everyone home, leaving her with one server and a dishwasher to get through the bulk of the evening. By 8:30, she sent them home too, and she sat at the bar with some paperwork and a tall glass of Aurora Valley Pinot Noir, leaving the open bottle in front of her for easy access. She rubbed her head, trying to keep out the thought that she'd just let her best chance at happiness just slip through her fingers.
"You're better off with the 2012 Elk Cover Roosevelt. It's got that mocha finish you like," said a smoky voice from behind her.
Emma whipped her head around, eyes feasting on Regina, bundled in a black trench and creme scarf, silky hair cascading across her shoulders.
"Hi," Emma said, uncertainly.
Regina came to stand in front of her, meeting her with a gentle smile. Emma slid her beanie off her head, dropping it on the bar and smoothing her blonde hair back nervously. Regina took her hand from her head and sandwiched it between her own
"Hi."
Emma tried to keep her emotions from blossoming on her face, but the act of contrition forced a traitorous sob from her throat and her eyes welled up with tears.
"I'm sorry, Emma. That was… I'm an idiot. Shutting you down was perhaps not the best way to show you how much I trust you. But I think it's me I don't trust. I'm used to people thinking the worst of me and having to defend myself, and I guess I just slipped back into that mode."
Emma gave a small nod, reaching her free hand to wipe away her tears.
"Do I still want to be a chef? I think I've been much to afraid to ask myself that question. Everyone thought I gave up that dream because it was too hard and I didn't want to be reminded of Daniel. And I think I wanted it that way. The truth is I think I was too afraid of failure to ever let myself really try. And if he hadn't died, I'm sure I would have found another reason. I don't think I really believed in myself. But I never stopped wanting it, and I think it's the reason that I am so hypercritical. I think I am voicing my own insecurities, my own self loathing. And you… you just called me on it."
"Regina, I wasn't trying to criticize you. I just want to know what's inside you."
Emma slid her legs further apart so Regina could stand between them, pulling the scarf from her neck and unbuttoning her coat.
"I think you're amazing, Regina," Emma said softly. "You're beautiful and talented and smart, and I can't stop thinking about you."
The brunette's eyes immediately dropped to the floor. Emma slid her fingers under her chin and lifted her face up.
"Please don't doubt it," Emma said, cupping her face with her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
"You forgive me?" Regina said, her voice so small.
"Yes, of course. I spent the day thinking I'd lost you before we could even really get started. And I felt like throwing up. You have added all this amazing, vibrant color to my life, and when I thought you were gone, it was just…"
"—colorless, yes. I felt the same."
Emma stood up and slipped her arms into Regina's coat, wrapping her arms tightly around her tiny waist. The brunette buried her head in Emma's neck and let out a shaky sigh. Emma dropped a peck on her jaw, and Regina looked up. She met her for a kiss, slipping her tongue into her mouth, and letting herself get lost in Emma. Their kiss was long and slow and filled with meaning. The rest of the world melted blissfully away.
They were so wrapped up in each other, in the romance and closeness of their embrace, they didn't hear the door open. They didn't hear Mr. Gold walk in, take note with some surprise at what he was seeing, and turn on his heels and walk immediately back outside.