Chapter 3
Unbelievable, Emma thought. Un-fucking-belivable. It took her two seconds to regain her composure, chastise her stomach for doing an unrecognizable and, not to mention, unwelcome flip, to return Killian Jones's smile. She had rather hoped to see him at the reception, —note that she just wanted to see him and thoroughly avoid him—where she at least had the help of a gorgeous floor length gown and two tons of makeup on her face. She envisioned that that getup would end up making a much more lasting impression than the one she currently wore, that of yoga pants, oversized sweater, and topped off with what she very well presumes is a sliver of drool hanging from the corner of her mouth.
"Killian." She says simply, his name rolling off her tongue in an all too familiar way. At the mention of his name his smile grows even wider, if possible.
"I'm sorry I woke you." He says, his accent enveloping every word. God, she used to melt whenever he talked to her. "I just had to say hi."
Actually, she thinks, it's still divine.
"Don't worry about it." She wants to ask him to sit, she also wants the ground to open up and swallow her whole, and jumping out the window isn't a terrible option either.
"Is someone sitting with you or may I?" he gestures at the seat in front of her.
"Go for it." Why? Why Emma, why?
He smiles at her again. This is so awkward. She thought if she ever met him again she would be so suave, you know? Her hair would be blowing in the wind; she'd be walking in slow motion, laughing while throwing her head back, and she'd have sparkling green eyes with a mischievous glint in them. She thought he'd be so taken aback by her breathtaking beauty and confidence that he'd wonder, oh would he wonder, why he ever let her go. There might have been some serious karaoke involved in this fantasy, but she'd rather not go into details. However, she's far from being anything like the Emma in her fantasy. He smiles, so she smiles back. She's basically half mute, and half scared to death.
"You've been avoiding me." Killian starts, a devilish smirk gracing his face. Emma can't decide if he's changed so much or if he hasn't at all. He's clean shaven and he dresses better, that's for sure, but his eyes are still as striking and he seems just as snarky. She guesses that his jawline is definitely stronger and he's filled out in all the right places, she can tell because he's wearing dark wash jeans and a navy blue fitted t-shirt. His hair is still the same jet-black but it's slicked back now and slightly faded on the sides.
"I have not." Emma defends herself, half a smile gracing her lips.
"If you're anything like the Emma Swan I knew when I was a lad, then you've definitely been avoiding me." He smirks at her.
"I've been busy." She replies nervously, failing miserably at swerving out of the topic.
"Well so have I, but I was still willing to hang out! There's nothing wrong in catching up, love." At the mention of the pet name her stomach does that unruly flip again, making her squirm in her seat.
"I was nervous." She says finally, looking up through her eyelashes.
"About what? C'mon, love. We were friends before being lovers, we can be friends again." He says sincerely.
"I don't know what I was nervous about, I just was." She shakes her head and twirls her rings underneath the table.
"Well, in any case, you still owe me a pint." He says simply, grinning at her.
"I owe you a pint?" She scoffs.
"Of course you do, you skipped at least seven dinner invitations at the Charming's' just to avoid me. The very least you can do is have a drink with me." She laughs at the mention of the Charming's, their old nickname for Mary Margaret and David. They absolutely hated it at first, but the name stuck while they were abroad.
They talk for most of the trip, catching up and poking fun at each other. Emma feels carefree and lighter than she has in weeks. Killian tells her he works in advertising, and is assistant creative director at a small advertising firm. He says that the company he works at is probably going to be part of a large merger in the upcoming weeks so he doesn't know what's going to happen with his job yet. He also hasn't stopped smiling since he saw her, and Emma thinks that neither has she. For someone who hasn't felt like she hasn't had reason to smile in almost a year, she certainly doesn't feel the strain of her face splitting in half due to smiling too much. For the first time in weeks, probably even months, smiling feels natural.
His attention catches sight of her right ring finger when she goes to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears.
"Congratulations on that, by the way." He says pointing at her rings. Emma doesn't know why, but she feels guilty for even wearing them.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." She hopes her feigned joy sounds legitimate.
"How long?" He asks, nonchalant.
"Three years next October." She replies as if she didn't feel incredibly awkward to be having this conversation with her first love.
"David said his name is Walter? What does he do?" Emma can't decide if he is genuinely intrigued or if he's a fantastic actor.
"Walsh. He's a state senator." She doesn't want to talk about Walsh to Killian. She doesn't want to talk about Walsh period.
"Oh wow. Fancy." He replies with a smile and a pair of raised eyebrows.
"Yeah, pretty fancy."
"So you pretty much have to be on your best behavior, then?" He winks at her and she feels like stabbing the fluttering thing in her stomach immediately.
"Something like that." She says instead, rolling her eyes at him. He smiles at her and stays quiet. They're nearing Maine and should be arriving at Portland soon. Emma looks outside her window for what seems like an eternity, her eyes unfocused on the changing scenery, her mind racing but not really dwelling on any particular thing.
"Are you happy?" Killian says seriously after a while. She snaps her attention back at him and finds him looking intently in her direction. His blue eyes intensely locked on her green ones.
"In general or with Walsh?" she asks.
"Both." He replies.
No. I'm not. She wants to answer.
"Yes, absolutely." She replies instead.
"Then that makes me happy." He tells her, a genuine smile directed at her.
After they get off the train and David picks both up, Emma and Killian rarely see each other for most of the day until the actual ceremony. They had arrived in Portland at 8:15 in the morning and the drive to Storybrooke took another half an hour. The ceremony wasn't until four. Emma spent most of the day finalizing details, making sure Mary Margaret didn't have a panic attack, and getting ready. The day itself was kind of a blur, just like most important life events tend to go. She didn't have time to think about Killian, nor about Walsh.
The ceremony starts promptly at four o'clock. The weather in Storybrooke is crisp and breezy, ever different than the stifling heat of New York during the summer. The ceremony and the reception are to be held in the lavish backyard of Mary Margaret's parents' estate. Emma and Killian are both staying at the house, which has always been massive in size and white in color with blue-grey tiles on the roof and deep blue painted shutters beside every window. In the distance, you can see a dock with a sailboat tied to it, the New England waters sloshing quietly against the shore. The backyard is full of large oak and maple trees, providing shade for the guests. Emma glides down the aisle after a throng of bridesmaids and groomsmen has gone before her. She's wearing a rose blush floor-length gown. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and flower buds sewn into the chiffon skirt, similar to those on Mary Margaret's own wedding dress. Emma wears her long blonde hair down, pinned with a gold sparkly barrette on her left side and parted to the right in long loose curls.
She felt Killian's eyes on her the entire ceremony. She even glanced his way a couple of times and found him either grinning brightly at her or averting his gaze away from her a millisecond too late. She felt giddy, heat radiating from her stomach every time this happened. Deep down she knew it was wrong. She was a married woman, after all. However, she didn't think there was anything horrible about the exchange granted that she didn't act on it, and she didn't plan to.
Killian comes up to her midway through the reception, after all the speeches have been made and all the important dances have happened. She's seating in the bridal party table, looking down at her phone reading all the messages that Walsh has sent her. He wants to talk to her, make things right or so he says. She wishes she could throw her phone off the dock.
"Swan, get up and dance with me." He demands, offering her his hand.
"Killian, you know I don't dance." She answers him simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"Then have a drink with me, I won't have you moping sitting at an almost empty table. If you won't come willingly, I'll guilt trip you by reminding you that you owe me a drink." He rests his hands on the table and inches forward, grinning widely.
"It's an open bar. I don't think I'd be fulfilling what I owe you." At this he rolls his eyes at her and she responds with a bright smile and raised eyebrows.
"Even better. This way reconnecting comes at no expense to either of us, just at the Charming's'. He winks at her and takes her hand in his, guides her up and around the table, finally placing his hand in the center of her back, pushing her lightly towards the bar.
They devised a plan to have Emma charm the bartender as Killian snuck around the back and smuggled out some cases of beer. You know, so they wouldn't have to go back. Once they were successful, Emma wrapped up the conversation and met Killian at the dock. He received her with an open bottle for her and one for him. With each sip of the bitter liquid, Emma felt herself loosen up. She even started swaying to the music that was playing from the dance floor, causing Killian to laugh at her expense.
"You know, Swan, you haven't changed a bit." He tells her, hand reaching towards hers to hand her the bottle opener as she went for her second bottle.
"I've mellowed out." She tells him, lifting up the cap and taking a swig out of the bottle.
"Naturally, as have I." He nods and finishes his bottle. Emma tries not to stare at his butt as he bends over to get another bottle.
"I'm kind of boring now actually." She tells him cocking her head sideways, staring at him. She's starting to feel the familiar fuzziness come over her senses as the alcohol starts to seep into her bloodstream.
He turns towards her and looks at her quizzically. Giving her half a smile, he walks, closes the distance between them and drapes his free arm around her waist, swaying slightly.
"Now I don't believe that for a second, Swan." He says seriously.
"What are you doing?" she asks him, pressing the top of the bottle to her lips.
"Dancing with you." He shrugs and raises his hand towards her face, holding the bottle with two fingers and brushing back the hair on her forehead.
"Oh." She doesn't know if it's because of the alcohol or if it's him but Emma is definitely in a daze.
"Is that okay?" he asks her sincerely, blue eyes wide and piercing.
"Absolutely." She says quietly and starts swaying with him.
"Why do you think you're boring?" he continues.
"I just…am. I'm not the girl you used to know, I guess." She mumbles, resting her head on his chest.
"Is that why you were avoiding me?" he asks quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you were nervous of seeing me. Was it because you thought I'd think you were boring?" How does he do that? Emma wondered. He always did that. Killian had the knack to read her like a book but he was always a complete mystery to her. Here they were eight years later and he was able to read her emotions and replay them back at her just by intuition.
"I was more worried that you'd see how much I had changed and you'd realize how lucky you were that things ended the way they did." Emma bites her lip, not being able to believe that she let herself open up to him just like that, right off the bat.
"Emma, you haven't changed. Whoever you think you've lost…she's still there. I still see her, your friends still see her, and your husband probably still sees her too."
At the mention of Walsh she stops dancing and lets go of Killian. It was like a bucket full of iced water was thrown over her. She quickly walks over to the cases and pulls out another bottle. Slipping off her shoes, she sits down on the edge of the dock. She turns to him and gives him a small smile as he sits down next to her.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"I'm not happy."
"I'm sorry?"
"No, it's not you. God, I can't believe I'm saying this" she sighs, "It's my marriage." She says hugging her knees to her chest and resting her head on her knees.
"Oh…trouble in paradise?" She glares at him then, forcing him to apologize quickly.
And so she tells him everything, beginning from where things started to head south till last night's fight. Two beer bottles later, Emma starts feeling pretty drunk and she has a feeling that Killian is in the same boat as she. He's been trying to make her laugh after she told him her sad little tale. Killian has just been talking and talking, telling her stories about his life and times after the year abroad. He tells her the crazy antics that he got into after returning to school at the University of St. Andrews and he tells her how horrible he felt after they lost contact. Every time he looks at her he grins widely, making her stomach flip. The heat that has been radiating from her stomach has been intensified over time, she feels so comfortable around him. And she can't deny it anymore; she's attracted to him.
"God, what happened to us?" she slurs once a comfortable silence engulfs them.
"I know. We were so good together." He says back, chuckling slightly.
"I was crazy about you." Emma admits as she feels him inching closer to her, her shoulder slightly grazing his upper arm. She looks up at him only to find him staring down at her.
"And I you." he breathes.
"Sometimes, I wish I could go back. I felt so alive back then." There's electricity in the air and is unmistakable. Emma feels like she's about to fall off into an abyss, she's scared to death but also incredibly ready to jump at the same time.
"What about right now?" he asks her softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Like…right now, right now?" She breathes, sneaking a look at his lips.
"Aye." He says staring back at her green eyes.
"I feel pretty alive right now too." She concedes.
"So do I." He says before she closes the distance between them and presses her lips against his and Killian is kissing her right back.