His arm rested upon the length of the couch back, just inches away from the shoulder she had pressed against it. He'd moved to sit on the opposite couch once more when he'd arrived, until she'd pointed out that he'd be unable to see much of the movie from that position. She'd hoped so very much that she'd left the light dim enough to shadow the blush that coloured her cheeks when he laughed at the truth of the her statement and came to sit beside her. It was a reasonable distance away but to her it felt as though he could feel every carefully measured breath, that every shy glance she sent his way would have her looking like some damn schoolgirl with a foolish crush. It hadn't been long though until they'd practically forgotten the movie altogether in favour of good old conversation.
"Daddy always liked when I'd cook with him," she explained after yet another compliment from him as he finished the homemade pizza she'd put in the oven when he'd decided to come over, already excited at the prospect of asking her son to help her make a replacement to keep in the refrigerator. He loved coming up with new - and sometimes strange - creations, different toppings each time Henry was allowed free reign of her ingredients as he discovered his likes and dislikes and Regina, well she was always at her happiest when spending time with her son. "Mother always believed there were better things I could've been doing with my time but he'd just wink and tell me to ignore her, they'd argue a little later but he didn't care, so long as I was happy."
His eyes crinkled with his smile, head tilting just so as he told her "he sounds like a wonderful man."
Regina's smile turned sad as she replied with a quiet "he was," her eyes moving to find the picture of her father and herself that she kept on her coffee table, both of their faces covered in chocolate cake as they laughed at the camera. It was one of the rare afternoons that her mother had fully let go and allowed herself to laugh and play with her husband and daughter and it was a memory that Regina treasure dearly. She was brought out of her reveries at the feeling of a gentle hand on her shoulder and she smiled when she found Robin watching her, offering her the comfort she needed. "I love talking about him," she explained after swallowing down the lump in her throat, "Henry asks about him all of the time and we go visit his grave every week but sometimes…" she brought her own hand up to rest atop his, fingers curling around to touch his palm as she continued "it's hard knowing that I'll never see him again, that I won't ever hear his laugh."
Robin nodded gently, his thumb lifting to swipe over the back of her hand as he told her "I understand," and when her head tilted in question, hearing something in his tone, he divulged "I lost my wife, my Marian, three years ago" it was Regina who offered comfort now, bringing both of their hands into the space between them, "and, though I don't talk about her to many who didn't already know her," she smiled at that, understanding that he was sharing something special with her, "each time I do, I'm reminded of the little things I was starting to forget."
A comfortable silence fell over them, a moment needed to gather their thoughts and their emotions after what had just been shared between the two of them. Her thumb skated across the back of his hand, still in her grip, before she was inhaling a deep breath and letting it out on a cleansing exhale. "What do you say we just get everything out in the open?" and when he looked to her with his brow furrowed, she elaborated "we could ask questions about the things we want to know, you know...get to know each other a little better?" She tried hard not to flush at the suggestiveness of her explanation, shifting in her seat a little before stipulating "but if there's something we don't want to answer-"
"Then we won't," he smiled back at her and she was glad that he seemed to be going along with the idea, excited at the prospect of getting to know more about this man, her son's saviour and someone she felt was becoming a fast friend.
"Exactly."
"Well then," he shifted in his seat until his knees were touching the ones she had bent up on the sofa, getting himself comfortable before telling her with a smirk "I'm game if you are."
.
They'd begun on the easy things at first, taking mercy on one another and asking unimportant things such as what is your favourite colour? Purple for her, green for him and such inconsequential things such as their favourite foods, both rather quick to answer with Italian ("I loved my father's cooking but there's just something about a good pasta sauce"). She'd learned that he had a younger brother, Will, who owned and ran a rather successful restaurant in Boston and that his parents, Edward and Rose, were both still very much alive and residing in the south of England in a seaside town called Exmouth that sounded quite beautiful.
She, in turn, had confided in him her childhood dream of owning and running her own restaurant right here in town. She'd told him about the menus her father would help her to create, how he'd turn their dining room into a mini bistro for the afternoon and sample the dishes she'd create. He'd chuckled at the image of a six year old Regina with a chef's hat and apron taking her father's order (and a number of her more precious teddy bears) before she'd swatted at his shoulder and told him to stop teasing her.
Then, things had grown serious once more when Robin asked of how Regina came to adopt Henry.
"I had difficulty conceiving naturally when Daniel and I decided we wanted to start a family," she explains softly, her eyes focused on the glass she has resting upon one of her bent knees, the wine coating the insides of it as she rotates her wrist absentmindedly and he wonders if the position makes her feel a little less vulnerable, a little less exposed for he has never seen her anything but strong in the few weeks since he'd arrived. His own finger taps gently at the glass he has sitting on his thighs as he remains quiet, looks down to it in the hopes that she may feel somewhat better without his eyes on her. She'd agreed to tell him, had wanted to but he understands that it is a difficult subject to talk about, especially as she'd already spoken of how she believed that she'd always have the fear he would run from her to the woman he had come to know as his birth mother.
Apparently Emma had been meant to come and visit with Henry in the days prior to Robin finding him in Boston - he hadn't known that - she had been due to arrive on the Thursday and remain in town until the Sunday. She'd left no word as to why she hadn't shown and Henry, with his fanciful, wondrous imagination, had managed to convince himself that something was wrong, that something had to have happened to Emma for her to just not turn up, not even to call (apparently they spoke weekly up until the very week she'd gone off the grid. "She's most likely taken off with that idiot boyfriend of hers." He was a boatman apparently, fancied himself as something of a pirate and was completely wrong for someone as emotionally damaged as what Henry's birth mother was, or so Regina had told him.).
"I thought 'this is it'," she'd told him with tears coating her eyelashes, a hand running through her dark hair as she'd leaned all of her weight onto her thighs and allowed herself a moment to truly feel the very same fear she had that night, "'this is it, he's not coming back' and the longer I was without him, the more I realised just how much I need that little boy in my life," she'd cried then, terrible hacking sobs that had had him pulling her into him after placing her cider glass upon the coffee table and holding her in a way that should have felt strange or at least a little awkward to two people who barely knew one another but it didn't, it felt right.
"The doctor told us to take it one day at a time when we began having troubles," she scoffed lightly, bringing
his gaze back up to find her frowning down at her glass now after she'd righted herself and taken a healthy swig to steady her emotions, "as if two days at a time is even an option."
And her laugh is bitter, matched by the shake of his head because she's right, it is possibly the worst advice anyone could give another because it just reminds you just how long the road to healing is and that you have no option but to sit along for the ride. He never used to be so cynical, thinks she may not have been either but maybe that's why he feels this connection with her, maybe that's why he's so drawn to her, they're so very similar, have been darkened by a cruel reality and have most definitely been changed by it. Whether that was for the better or for the worst, he still has yet to identify but it is something of the reason that he had ended up here so maybe…maybe it was for the better.
"And anyway, after Daniel died," he believed that perhaps that particular story would be better left for another night (if this one hasn't brought back too much trauma and put her off ever inviting him round again) so he won't ask, not until she's ready to tell him, "I…well, I didn't feel like doing much of anything if I'm honest, least of all think about children so I kind of shut myself off for a while."
"And did it help?" he asked softly, after giving her a moment to swallow away the thickness in her throat.
She laughed softly, humorlessly before shaking her head and telling him "of course not."
He moved a hand to grasp gently at the one she had resting upon her bent knee, feeling the softness of it as he ducked his head in order to find her eyes, telling her sincerely "I'm sorry Regina."
She smiled graciously at him before shrugging one shoulder and telling him "I'm not," with a smile that looked a little less forced and a little more easy to find, "because without that loneliness, without the need to give all the love that I had building within me to someone, I never would have thought of adoption and I never would have gotten my Henry."
He smiles at that, rubs his thumb over the hand he still has in his grasp, focusing on anything other than how right it felt within his grip again as he told her "that's true," before looking down at their joined hands, leaving a moment of silence for them both before she was speaking again.
"How about we drop the dark stuff for the night and put a dent in my cider?"
The next day
"You are not to speak to me this morning," she drawled as he stepped over the threshold into her office, her eyes never leaving the piece of paper she'd written her notes upon from her daily meetings even as he slumped into the chair opposite her left by her last visitor with a heavy sigh. She did, however, look up when she caught the scent of coffee drifting over to her from him, her eyes wide with absolute want as he placed a to-go cup on the surface of her desk with a smirk before pushing it gently towards her. The instant it was in her hands she was lifting the lid from the cup, inhaling as deeply as her hangover addled body could handle before sighing "absolute god among men" which had him asking "am I forgiven then?" as he sipped from his own cup with a smirk, prompting her to reply with a poorly contained smirk "it is yet to be decided."
He chuckled into his cup good-naturedly, wondering just how she looked so put together even with all that they had drank yesterday, putting far more than just a dent in her decanter of cider. "Do you honestly feel that bad?" he asked, laughing all the more at the pointed glare he received before he was telling her "well, you look just as beautiful as ever," and there was a gentle blush colouring her cheeks when she waved a hand in his direction as though to brush him off as she rolled her eyes and sighed "flatterer." His laughter died down but his smile remained as he watched her take her first sip, smirking at the loud moan that rumbled from her throat at both the taste and the sensation of caffeine finally hitting her system. She hadn't had time for a cup that morning, he knew this having awoken to her rolling off of him with an ungraceful grunt as she'd stood on unsteady feet and ran as fast as was possible in her delicate state to get ready for work.
"You're the damn Mayor! Who's going to know!?" he'd called after her, glad to find them both clothed and so very grateful that he hadn't done anything stupid the night before because if he were to do something as stupid as to, say, act on his feelings and kiss her, well he'd at least want a very clear memory of it for he was sure that he'd be very unlikely to have another chance to. It was the only reason he hadn't even attempted to kiss her, the thought of losing her friendship was one he didn't allow to linger in his mind for very long. It was better this way. He still got to have her in his life and though it was not in the capacity that his heart desired, it was enough, she was enough.
"Do you have plans for dinner tonight?"
He found her with eyebrows raised in question when he looked up, a little more colour in her features with the strength of the coffee he'd gotten her (he certainly owed Ruby now) and genuine hope in her dark eyes that had him answering instantly. "None that can't be changed."
"Good," she gave him a pleasant smile, relaxing a little in her chair as she eyed him over the Styrofoam cup in her hands and told him "I'm making Henry's favourite."