Hello everyone! Here we go... the story continues, and we're heading into finding out more about the mysterious Robin. As always, thanks for your kind comments and reviews! - Ana
The next week brought good news: Regina's editor approved of her idea for a biweekly piece called "Saturday Mornings in Paris: How I Fell in Love in (and with) Paris." Even though the articles wouldn't exactly be a word-for-word account of her dating life with Robin, she planned to share some of her newfound insights into dating in the world's most romantic city. Of course, in keeping with the fashion theme of her publication, it would also focus on what she wore on the dates and outings as she fell in love.
Despite the sappiness of the concept, Regina found herself smiling as she typed away late into the night, enjoying the process of describing her experiences dating as a 30-year-old with a kid (writing on topics like "how to manage to flirt at a museum with your kids in tow"). "Sex and the City" it was not: it was romantic, but real. She enjoyed mingling the aspects of romance, and sophistication that dating in Paris entailed, with the more relatable realities of juggling children and life, sometimes in just a little bit of her trademark sassy way.
The words flowed easily.
Meanwhile, as she walked Henry to and from school each morning and afternoon, she relished in the increasingly warm days, the long sunny hours stretching later and later into the night. Since the evenings were so long, she and Henry began eating dinner outside on a small bistro table and chairs on their tiny, narrow terrace: simple meals, sandwiches with crusty bread and fresh salads with tangy dressing, pastas, cold meats, enjoying the hum of the city and the patch of sky, framed by cream-colored buildings, that would slowly transform from light blue to pastel pink to deep indigo as the sun set.
"You seem happy, mom," Henry observed one evening as they sat outside and finished their simple dinner of pasta in a fresh tomato and basil sauce.
Regina smiled at him warmly. "You think so?"
He nodded eagerly.
"And how are you feeling, Henry? Is school okay this week?"
He nodded a little less enthusiastically. "It's okay. When are we going to see Robin again?"
"Oh, you'd like to see him again?"
"Yeah. He's nice. I want him to show me more places."
"We could probably arrange an outing with him sometime."
More than once, she thought of inviting Robin to join them for an evening meal, but decided against it… she wasn't sure she was ready for him to be a regular fixture in the apartment, especially since Henry was still only gradually warming up to their new life.
It had, however, crossed her mind that Henry lacked male figures in his life at the moment. Ever since they moved so far away from her father and Daniel's father, he'd been surrounded by her, and Emma, and his teachers at school, who were all women. So, there could be some benefits to having Robin spend more time around him.
She was conflicted.
"Where do you want Robin to take you?" asked Regina. "If he joined us again some weekend?"
Henry considered that for a moment. "Maybe more museums. I like seeing stuff about knights and the kings and queens."
Regina raised her eyebrows. So, he liked how Robin rambled on about educational things. Quite a shift from Henry's usual interests of video games and books.
"Well, I'll talk to him about it. How about that?"
..•..
Robin and Regina saw each other again twice within the next week. Regina didn't want to leave Henry with Emma again… she was conscientious about the fact that Emma might not want to babysit him too often. Even though Regina compensated her well for her time, she was careful not to overstay her welcome, so to speak. So, she and Robin agreed to meet both times at lunch, while Henry was at school.
Of course, what "lunch" really meant was that they met each other outside a cafe, both pretending that they were about to enjoy a nice and civilized meal together.
But in reality, eating lunch was the very last thing on their minds.
Instead, both times they ended up not getting a table in a cafe and instead quickly walked back to Regina's flat. Once they didn't even make it that far before their hands were all over each other, as she coaxed him against the side of a building on a narrow side street and kissed him soundly in a patch of mid-day sun on the sidewalk, the sound of cars and motorbikes buzzing on the road behind them.
Once in her apartment, clothes were quickly shed. On the first of their lunchtime rendez-vous, not all of their clothes made it off in time: Robin pulled off his shirt while Regina unbuttoned her long-sleeved blouse, but before she could take the shirt all the way off and unfasten her bra, Robin had pulled the lacy undergarment aside and freed a breast so he could cover it with open-tongued kisses and gently nibble on her nipple, creating a hard peak.
He'd gently laid her down on the couch, and as she fumbled with his pants, snaking her hand inside to solidly grasp and gently move her hand up and down the length of him, he was edging up her tight black skirt, finally pulling it up along her waist. Her hand was forced to let go of him as he moved down to the end of the couch, lavishing open-mouthed kisses on her belly as his head moved lower, and lower, until finally, his tongue gently dipped into her, gently at first and then firmly lapping up her desire. Her eyelashes fluttered shut and she relaxed into the sofa, reveling in the sensations.
After bringing her to pleasure by carefully observing her every reaction and low, lusty moan, his tongue licking and teasing and dancing around her most sensitive areas as he learned what she liked most, he guided her onto her stomach, a soft down throw pillow tucked underneath her belly. She reached behind and helped as he guided himself into her. They started at a slow pace, but it quickly developed into a more urgent rhythm. Their hearts racing and breathing heavy, they both relished the quick and satisfying encounter.
Their second lunchtime meeting was a bit less frantic, and they both took their time, lavishing each other with attention: first Regina, taking him into her mouth and enjoying his reactions, groaning and reacting to her attention with pleasure. While she worked, his hands massaged her head, fingers snaking through the strands of her hair, and every once in a while his hands gently guided her to indicate what he liked most. He nearly came, but instead pulled back, whispering "not yet," and moved to position her in place so he could return the favor: she sat down, leaning back, legs straddling his shoulders as he teased and licked and circled and eased his tongue in and out, all around her, until she climaxed with a heavy moan and sigh. After a few beats, she urged him onto his back and positioned herself on top of him, and after a few blissful minutes, he came as well.
..•..
Regina had to force herself back to work both afternoons, after lying blissfully naked with Robin for a while, he brushing his fingertips along her soft skin, she nuzzling her nose into his neck, lavishing his jawbone with kisses. Time seemed to stop when they were together.
But unfortunately… it didn't really. Both afternoons, they'd spent far too long with each other, and had to wash up, scramble back into clothes and return to work. (Regina always sent Robin off with a small snack at least, knowing that their physical exertions likely made him hungry… one day she had sent him with a few cold cuts, some cheese and a bit of bread, the other day she'd sent him with some fruit and a small container of gazpacho.)
She had to then sit down and concentrate on her work. Oddly, the encounters with Robin seemed to help her creative process, if anything, once she got her mind to focus on the words in front of her. She managed to write more than usual those afternoons, motivated by pressing deadlines and the desire to be able to pick up Henry after school and give him her undivided attention in the evenings, helping him with his French homework, reading him stories, supervising his consumption of television and video games.
As the week drew to a close, Regina wondered if Robin would want to go on a date that weekend, and if so, what they might do. Perhaps they could plan something with Henry.
On Thursday, he texted her and let her know that he had convinced Marion to let him have Roland for the weekend. He was planning two days of visiting museums, parks, buying him ice cream… and would Henry and Regina like to join them on Sunday for an outing?
Regina quickly accepted the invite, and Henry seemed pleased by the plan as well. On Saturday, she planned a low-key day with Henry to allow him to relax and recharge. The day was threatening to rain, and heavy dark clouds hung in the sky. Despite the ominous weather, they went to a park nearby (two bright red umbrellas in tow), and she was watching him swing on a playground when she received a text from Robin.
Glancing at her phone, she figured it would be one of his daily messages he sent her, asking how she was, or sending a flirty little note.
Instead, it was a much more frantic message.
Are you there? Could you give me a ring?
She called him back immediately.
"What is going on?" she asked, keeping an eye on Henry as he continued to swing.
"It's Roland," he said. "He's sick with an ear infection… he'd been getting over a cold this week but was fine when his mother dropped him off last night. I took him to see a doctor earlier, but it is going to take a few hours before I can go get the medicine. He needs a special kind of antibiotic since he's allergic to some of the common ones. I don't know what to do for him while I wait. Then, how am I going to take a little boy in pain with me back out to the pharmacy?"
"Hold on," Regina replied calmly, noting the urgency in his voice. It was unusually frantic for the normally steadfast Robin.
"Henry had ear infections all of the time when he was little. It will be okay. Can you give him a children's Tylenol - or whatever brand they have here - to ease the pain while you wait for the medicine?"
"I already did."
"Okay. So put on some music, or a movie, or tv, to distract him, make sure he's comfortable, sit with him, that's all you can do. Where is his mother? She should know about all of this," Regina said, biting her lip nervously. What was the protocol for giving advice to her boyfriend about his child who had another mother, anyways?
"That's the thing. She's on a business trip this weekend. She went to the south of France and I can't get a hold of her to let her know. Her mobile has gone straight to voicemail all morning."
"Well, keep trying, she should know what's going on. In the meantime, why don't Henry and I head over to your place? We can sit with Roland while you go get the medicine."
"Would you do that? I'm sorry to bother you both…"
"It's not a problem. We can be at your place in an hour?"
"Thank you," he said, his voice flooding with relief.
…
Regina had figured it was a good idea to pick up some food on the way to Robin's house. Who knows if he was taking care of himself through the ordeal, and perhaps Roland would need some nourishment as well, if it appealed to him. They bought bread and meats, cheeses and Regina even managed to find a warm chicken soup even though soup was a little out of season (many of the cafes and markets had switched to cold summer cucumber and melon or tomato and basil soups).
They arrived at Robin's an hour later, Henry armed with books and a bag of gummy candy that he insisted on bringing for Roland to make him feel better, Regina armed with nourishment and support.
"Thank you for coming," Robin said again as she and Henry walked into the apartment. Regina had only seen it at night, and was surprised at how bright it was. It was spartan, every bit a bachelor's pad, but she noticed the couch had unfolded into a sleeper sofa, and Roland was laying down on a soft pile of clean white sheets and pillows.
"He's sleeping now, finally," Robin said. She noted the dark circles under his eyes.
Regina moved towards the kitchen to unpack. "Come," she urged to him gently. "Let's have some lunch. You probably haven't eaten all day."
"You'd be right about that," Robin said, sighing.
He looked less put-together than usual, his hair mussed and his clothes slightly wrinkled. But as he at the food that Regina brought, he began to perk up.
The three of them ate companionably, Henry animatedly telling Robin about a book he was reading. As Robin relaxed slightly, he engaged with Henry in a lively debate about which sci-fi franchise was the best (Henry liked Star Wars, Robin was a fan of Star Trek and Dr. Who), and Regina moved around Robin's small kitchen, rinsing a few dishes and putting some of the food she'd bought back in the fridge, hoping that Robin and Roland would find it for dinner later.
Later in the afternoon, Robin received a call from the pharmacy informing him that Roland's medicine was ready, and so he left to go pick it up (it was a bit far away). He took Henry with him (Henry wanted the outing and since he was getting antsy in the small apartment, Regina let him go).
While they were gone, Roland had woken up once, taken a small bit of warm soup from a bowl that Regina heated up for him, and then fell back to sleep. Regina sat next to him with her feet up on the pull-out sofa and worked on a few work emails on her phone in the silent apartment, late-afternoon sun filtering cheerfully through the tall windows. A few times, she heard Robin's phone ping in the kitchen; he must have forgotten it. But he would be back soon.
About twenty-five minutes after Robin left, there was a knock on the door. Regina gingerly stood up, hoping that her movement and the sound wouldn't wake Roland, and opened the door.
There was a woman there, with long brown hair that curled on the ends.
Regina instantly recognized her.
It was Marion Vallin, the politician she'd interviewed the other day for the fashion profile.
The two women stared at each other for a moment, their mouths dropping slightly.
Finally, Marion spoke. "What are you doing here?" she asked in French.
"I should ask you the same!" Regina replied, likewise in French. "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes. I'm here to see my son."
..•..
Marion's face grew dark with the knowledge that a strange woman (or rather, not entirely strange, but a stranger nonetheless) was alone with her son. She rushed into the apartment, checked on Roland, her hand brushing against his forehead as she lifted him up in her arms. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he muttered a "mama."
Regina explained the situation as calmly as possible: Robin had taken him to the doctor that morning, and had just left to get the special medication he needed. As Marion pressed a groggy Roland against her chest, a soothing hand brushing his forehead and rubbing his back, she explained that she had been in town on a business trip but as soon as she'd heard Robin's message she took an earlier high-speed train back, and got here as soon as she could.
"But that doesn't explain who you are - I mean, I know who you are, you're that American fashion journalist, but why the hell are you with my son?" Marion pressed.
"I've been dating Robin, for a few weeks. He didn't know what to do when -" Regina almost said 'when he couldn't reach you,' but decided that wouldn't be the best psychology at the moment "- when Roland got sick. I simply offered to come over and sit with him for a while, and sit with Roland so he wouldn't have to take him all the way out to the pharmacy and back."
"He should have told me he was leaving a stranger with Roland," she snapped back.
"I… well, I agree with you," Regina said, her nerves rising but willing herself to continue to speak as calmly as possible. "I have a son, too, I wouldn't like this situation. But he was thrown off, he didn't know what to do with a sick Roland, and I think - I think he meant the best."
Marion huffed out a breath but didn't reply.
"Did you know that he is my son?" She asked Regina bitterly, looking at Roland. "Before - you know, you interviewed me?"
"I didn't," Regina shook her head. "I'm as surprised as you. It's pure coincidence that I chose you for this profile. I saw an article about you in the paper, and… well that's all, really. Robin had told me Roland's mother's name was Marion, but it's not exactly an uncommon name."
As Regina explained the situation, it dawned on her that it probably wasn't a complete coincidence, now that she thought of it. The paper Robin had been reading had been open to a page with an article about her on it. Of course. He would have noticed her in the paper, wanted to read about her… must be easy to stay in the loop about the mother of your child when she's a prominent public figure.
"Robin is ridiculous for not telling me about you," muttered Marion. "And leaving you with my son… even for just a few minutes."
"I was only trying to help," she stated simply, crossing her arms.
"You might want to be careful with Robin, you know," Marian said in a low voice.
"What do you mean?" Regina looked back at her.
"Has he told you anything about his past?"
Regina hesitated, then shook her head. "Not a lot of it. I know he volunteered a bit in London, before moving here…"
Marion laughed and rolled her eyes. "Right. Volunteered. More like ordered to do community service."
What? Regina thought to herself, but she didn't say it out loud. She felt herself stiffen, and hugged her crossed arms closer to her. She felt her jaw stiffen, her face go solid, icy.
"Ah, so he hasn't told you about his colorful past," Marion said, warm brown eyes studying her reaction. "If he had, you would know why I am so suspicious of you, and leaving my son with him in general, for that matter."
Regina just swallowed and looked back at her with a stoic gaze, unsure where to take this conversation. Should she ask her anything more? She just seemed so…angry.
Just then, the sound of Robin and Henry returning drifted in from the hallway. They both turned to watch the door. Behind it, Regina could hear Robin and Henry talking about something. Robin laughed animatedly as he stuck the key in the door and turned it, rattling the old wooden door open.
As he stepped into the room, clutching a small white paper bag in his hand, his laughter faded as he saw Regina and Marion sitting together with Roland. His expression fell momentarily, and a look of concern crossed his face, before he smiled again, as a look of relief took over.
"Marion! You're back."
"I am," she said, gracefully standing up, still holding Roland close to her, who had woken up and was whimpering slightly, groggily looking back and forth between his mother and father.
Regina uncrossed her arms. She grabbed her purse off of the table next to the couch.
"We should go, Henry," she suggested, her voice firm, motioning to him to gather his things.
On their way out, Regina simply threw a cold glance at Robin and muttered a "goodbye", then gave a polite smile to Marion. "I hope Roland feels better soon."
She ushered Henry out of the apartment before either one of them could say anything more to her, and they returned home.
..•..
Late that night, after she'd tucked Henry in for bed, armed with a glass of red wine, Regina did what she should have done long ago, but thought it was too paranoid and silly to actually do when you are first dating someone you trust: she Googled Robin. She had searched for him online quickly once before, but abandoned her research before long, not finding too much to speak of. This time, she spent longer searching for clues about his past. But still, she found surprisingly little about him (most of it was work-related, things connected to his current job, like corporate directories and professional social media profiles) and certainly nothing about him from more than 2-3 years ago.
And then, somewhere on a website related to the computer engineering industry in which he worked, he was listed as "Robin Dubois Locksley."
Locksley.
So, Robin hadn't told her his full name.
With trembling hands, she typed in "Robin Locksley" to the search engine this time, and finally found far more background information about the elusive man.
..•..
A few days later, after Regina had cooled off and grew tired of brushing off Robin with 1-2 word replies to his texts, Regina asked Robin if he wanted to meet her for lunch.
"A real lunch this time," she wrote pointedly in a text.
He agreed, and they met at a cafe, on another warm, grey day, clouds hanging heavily in the sky, making the normally bright city buildings look duller than usual.
"So, Robin Locksley." Regina said, after they'd settled in at a small table outdoors under a wide awning along a quiet side street, and had ordered the table d'hôte.
The waiter had brought them both glasses of sparkling water, and she took a delicate sip before asking, "Can you tell me about that time you went to prison?"