Whatever reservations Gold had about his son's choice of bride and her family, he bore no ill will towards Henry. This wasn't to say he was exactly pleased about suddenly finding himself a grandfather, something he didn't think he'd have to worry about for another ten years or so—but nonetheless, when Henry wasn't being fussy, he was the sweetest baby in the world and Gold was happy to baby-sit.
"Seriously Dad, you're a lifesaver," Neal said gratefully as he let his father into the flat. "Emma's got that dress-fitting with her mom and I have a deadline—I need some quiet, or I'll never get this chapter done." He glanced at his son ruefully, who appeared to be narrating in a language of his own creation, playing with building blocks in his play pen.
"It's not a problem," Gold assured him. He'd rearranged his entire day and cancelled several meetings, but that was a small price to pay to spend time with his grandson and do Neal and Emma a favor.
Neal glanced at his phone. "Okay, I'm bouncing," He kissed the top of Henry's head, who chattered in response, and flew out the door. Gold then turned towards Henry.
"So," He said formally to the boy. "I hear you've been quite a trial to your parents as of late, and you haven't even hit your terrible twos. You're ahead of schedule."
Henry gazed up at him and giggled. His hands rose up, reaching for him. "Up!" Henry pleaded. "Up!"
Gold chuckled to himself, indulging the toddler and lifting him up. Henry buried his face in Gold's soft shirt and Gold sighed. Henry still had that sweet, fresh baby smell and he brought back memories of holding Neal this way.
"You're lucky you're so charming," Gold informed the boy who cooed in response, grasping his nose curiously. Gold bared his teeth, pretending to bite the hand, sending Henry into hysterical giggles.
He settled them both on the couch, selecting a stray picture book to read to him. It was some revolting story about a yellow duck that had lost its rain boots, but his grandson seemed to enjoy it, growling at the pages that displayed rabbits.
Henry had just fallen asleep in Gold's lap, drooling profusely on his best tie, when Gold heard the door open. He frowned—it was far too early for Emma or Neal to be home, though he waited for Neal's telltale holler or Emma's familiar scuffs. Instead, he heard the clack of high heels against the linoleum.
Emma never wore heels. It'd be rather peculiar for a burglar to wear high heels on a heist, but nevertheless, Gold was wary. He gently lay Henry down on the couch before he stood, walking out of the living room and into the foyer—nearly running headlong into Belle French.
"Oh!" Belle said, looking startled, her face uncomfortably close to his. "You scared me."
"Likewise, dearie," He replied, carefully stepping away from her. "I didn't realize you had a key."
Belle held up a key ring. "I don't, but Emma lent me hers. She forgot her wedding planner binder here and asked me to come fetch it for her. She's trying on dresses right now. I'm sorry to intrude."
"Not at all," Gold assured her, ushering her into the living room. "I was just watching Henry. He got a bit tired of the book." Henry had awakened and was currently examining his stuffed Totoro toy, his little fist tightly grasping its ear. He squealed at Belle's appearance.
"Aw!" Belle sighed, going over to Henry and picking him up. "He's such a sweet little thing!"
"You like children?" He asked curiously, finding her answer suddenly important.
"Very much," Belle kissed Henry's cheek and he blew a raspberry at her, earning a chuckle from Gold. "I…I have a child. A daughter." She cleared her throat, suddenly avoiding Gold's gaze.
His stomach dropped slightly. A daughter. Belle had a daughter—most likely with her fiancé. The sudden vision of her happily holding a child while some tall, dark, and handsome youth kissed the top of her head nearly made him sick.
"What's her name?" Gold asked quietly, trying to banish the image.
"Audrey," Belle replied with a quiet smile. "She's four. Bit of a devil but quite the charmer, not unlike Henry here." She pulled out an iPhone and flicked it on, scrolling. She then offered her phone to Gold. He took it—a little girl gazed solemnly back at him. She looked exactly like Belle, the same angles in her face, dark curls, and bright blue eyes. The only difference was the expression of grave solemnity on the four-year-old's face, as if she were contemplating the secrets of the universe. The expression made him laugh.
"She's got a thing about smiling," Belle explained, looking delighted at Gold's chuckle. "You have to sort of work for her smiles."
Gold was about to respond when her phone lit up, buzzing in his hand. The screen flashed a picture of swarthy looking young man with dark hair and a glinting smile. The phone read, GREG CALLING.
"Sorry," Belle flushed and trading the phone for Henry, who did not look pleased about the transaction, his arms reaching back for Belle. She walked towards the window, a few steps away. "Hello?"
Henry grumbled at her distance. "I know how you feel," Gold commented quietly to him, busying himself by playing with his grandchild's fingers, trying hard not to listen.
"What do you mean you can't?" He heard her say angrily. "She's been expecting you all day. She's been excited. Greg, you promised her."
Gold pointedly stepped even farther away, trying to become increasingly interested in some of the pictures on the wall. There was a portrait of Emma and Neal at the hospital, when Henry was born. They were smiling with unadulterated joy—Neal's arms encircled Emma as she cradled her newborn son.
"What do you expect me to do?" He heard Belle demand. "I'm working right now, I have an appointment with—fine. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
He heard her sigh, shuffling a little, presumably placing her phone back in her purse.
"I have to go," She said, giving Gold permission to turn around. There was a deep crease between Belle's brows and she looked unhappy. "I have to…I have to pick up my daughter."
Gold eyed her, attempting not to make assumptions. He wanted to ask if Greg—the man on the phone—would be her elusive fiancé. But he couldn't quite work up the nerve.
"I'd made arrangement for someone to watch her today," Belle explained, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. "But something came up."
She looked stressed, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked.
Immediately, she stiffened, icing over, and he regretted asking. "No, no," She gave him a bright, entirely false smile. "I'm fine. Just one of life's little unexpected moments. I'll see you around, Mr. Gold."
And with that, she swung her purse around her shoulder, picked up the large wedding binder off the coffee table, and exited the room.
Henry began to whine.
"I know," Gold replied bitterly.
XXXX
The following weekend, Neal called again. His son suggested they get fitted for tuxes together, as apparently Emma—or rather Mary Margaret—wanted to coordinate the wedding party and ensure everyone's outfits matched the scheme of the wedding.
"I know it's kinda lame, but Emma's mom won't get off of me about it," Neal sighed. "And I don't really know anything about suits in any case. That's your area of expertise. So—up for it?"
Gold enthusiastically accepted. After years of tension, fights, and awkwardness with Neal, his son calling and asking for advice—even just for tux selection—felt like a positive step in the right direction. Gold had been wrong about the wedding proceedings; rather than making things tenser, they had made Neal more friendly towards him.
And Neal was right—Gold had a penchant for dressing sharply, even had a favored tailor. He coerced his son into visiting this tailor, a suave gentleman named Gustav, who looked a bit like a ferret.
"Your son?" Gustav greeted them at the door, his small eyes glittering a little. "Marvelous. The resemblance is striking."
Neal snorted and Gold couldn't help a smirk at the flattery. This was a rather blatant lie—Gold was of medium build, very slight, with angular features. Neal was taller, stockier, and took more after his mother in the shape of his face and complexion.
"We're just getting measurements today," Gold replied, drumming his fingers on the head of his cane. "Tossing around a few ideas. My son is getting married, but we've a bit of time before any major decisions are made."
"Ahhh, congratulations sir," Gustav purred at Neal, who glanced at his father amusedly. "And am I correct in guessing you inherited your father's taste? Favoring Armani perhaps, or Prada perhaps?"
"Uh…" Neal coughed a little. "Sure." Gustav clapped his hands excitedly, disappearing into the back. Gold chuckled a little at Neal's bafflement.
"You were the same way when you were a child," He remarked. "I had to bribe or threaten you to get you into formal wear. When your grandmother died, it was like pulling teeth to get you into a suit for the funeral."
Neal grinned sheepishly. "You got me there. If I had my way, I'd just wear jeans to the wedding."
"Well, I've a feeling Emma would be amiable to that plan," Gold commented drolly and Neal snickered.
"She is a jeans and T-shirt kinda girl," He acknowledged. "But maybe it's better we have you and Mary Margaret pushing for this stuff. I mean, when Henry's old enough, he'll want to know about our wedding and all that memory-making crap. Would disappoint the kid if we just eloped."
"Well," Gold replied as Gustav returned, ushering Neal to stand on a small platform. "Just don't let it get out of hand. Weddings are a celebration, not the main event."
"Huh, that's what Belle said," Neal remarked. "She's been a lifesaver, you know. Really knows her stuff."
Gold cleared his throat. "How er…how did you find Ms. French?"
Neal eyed him knowingly and Gold attempted to maintain an expression of vague interest.
"She helped do Ashley Boyd's wedding," He finally answered. "And Ashley—you don't know her that well, but she was bridezilla if there ever was one. But Belle was cool, calm, and collected the entire time. The wedding was really good, really beautiful, had this great inclusion about them not only being a married couple, but a family, what with Alexandra and everything. Emma really liked that concept, wanted to incorporate it—Ashley told her that it was Belle's idea, and things snowballed from there."
"She's been completely great," Neal added. "Smart, creative, fun." He smirked at his father, as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. Gold attempted not to notice, clearing his throat in acknowledgment.
Gustav began measuring Neal's sleeves and Gold helpfully put in suggestions about the cut that would suit his son the best. But as soon as Gustav stepped away to scribble down his notes, Neal brought it up again.
"You know, Dad," He grinned. "You think you're being subtle, but really, you've never been a subtle man."
"What do you mean?" Gold asked, his fingers twitching lightly on his cane.
Neal sighed exaggeratedly. "Nothing, Dad. Nothing at all."