Hey all! So after kidnapping, shape-shifting, magical duels in dungeons, mirror portals, fires, comas, a boat load of dream sequences, a near-death experience, memory loss and a new home we've finally arrived at the last chapter…which makes me sad :( haha but I want to thank every single one of you who took the time to read, review, follow and favourite this story because you're the reason why this story went from a three-chapter idea to a 27 chapter story! So a huge, massive thank you to all of you! You guys are amazing! :)
Alas, I do not own OUAT.
A few weeks later…
"Okay will someone please explain to me why I'm blindfolded? I'm not really big on surprises, you know. " Emma brought her hands up to her face with the intention of removing her mother's scarf from her eyes but a swift slap away from an unknown source put her in her place. She groaned. "When can I take it off?"
"When I say so," Mary Margaret ordered, unable to mask her amusement.
She was getting the hang of the assertive mother role.
Emma wished she was like that. She laid down the law with Henry when the time came but that boy had a way of wrapping around her heart and squeezing it so tight like it was about to burst. That coupled with his much improved puppy-dog eyes - Mary Margaret was definitely giving him pointers there - meant that it was next to impossible to discipline accordingly. She'd have to put an end to her mother's evil ways.
"Fine but can you at least tell me where we are? Or what exactly we're doing?"
"Why don't you stop asking questions and learn how to be patient?" her mother asked wryly though she lovingly ran her hand up and down the blonde's arm.
Emma was indoors – she knew that much. She was courted out of the car, flanked either side by a parent since she was still struggling with her movement and pain management, guided up some steps and brought through a doorway. And that was the extent of her knowledge.
"I've never been very good at being patient."
"I know, Emma. You don't have to wait much longer, I promise."
"Shouldn't I be dressed a little better if it's such a big surprise? I mean, look at me." She dramatically gestured to her outfit.
Needless to say, it was not a leather jacket and jeans combination.
While her burns were healing rather quickly, they were still smothered in ointment and bandage which meant wearing jeans or long-sleeved sweatshirts were out of the question. So, Emma had to wear…clothes she wouldn't usually wear. None of her small wardrobe escaped the lick of flames or the sickly stench of smoke so she had to improvise, and her parents were only too happy to help. Picking what seemed to be random items of clothing from various friends, Emma was dressed in a black tank-top, white sneakers, and an extremely questionable pair of navy tropical shorts that apparently her father left in the house where Kathryn now lived. No wonder he left them there; the palm tree and sailboat theme was rather eye-catching. To put it lightly.
"You look fine," Mary Margaret said dismissively, cupping the blonde's elbow so as to keep her steady. She was probably wavering again. Despite the progress made in rehab, Emma still hadn't mastered the art of movement yet, much to her frustration. Whale had only released her from hospital that day only for her first venture outside of the gloomy, clinical building to be whatever this little escapade was.
If she wasn't so intrigued, she would have begged for a chair to rest. Standing for long periods of time was still something she had yet to conquer.
"How can you say I look 'fine'? I'm wearing tropical shorts. Tropical! I didn't think anyone could get these in Maine, much less in Storybrooke."
Emma could practically hear Mary Margaret's eyes roll along with her long sigh.
"Is she still complaining?" Emma heard her father chuckle as he approached.
"Only about your shorts," Mary Margaret explained.
"Yes, why do you have these?"
"We were cursed."
"That excuse is getting a little old now," Emma remarked, making her parents laugh. It was silly but it was like the sound of their laughs were in perfect harmony with one another, mingling together into one unified melodious noise. Must be a fairytale thing.
"She's getting irritated," the brunette laughed.
"Do you think we should take off the blindfold?"
"Yes! Please take off the blindfold!" Emma exclaimed, resisting the urge to stomp her foot and cross her arms. It was amazing how childlike she could get when she was around them.
"You heard the girl, Snow."
Emma felt the tug of the scarf and felt the weight of the fabric lift off her face, allowing her skin to breathe. She blinked purposefully a few times before taking in her surroundings.
They were in a house.
They stood in a vast hardwood-floored foyer where, what appeared to be, the living area to the left and the dining room to the right with the staircase situated in front of them. The walls were a light biscuit colour with white skirting boards and door frames and the long, slim windows on either side of the door spilled the perfect amount of light into the area. It was officially the nicest, most expensive house Emma had ever walked into in her whole life and she hadn't even seen the rest of it yet. And she'd been in a lot of houses.
"Where are we?" Slowly clenching her fist to distract away from the itching of a burn on her hand, Emma faced her parents. Although she was almost positive of the answer, she needed to hear it from them.
Taking each other's hands, Mary Margaret and David exchanged a smile before looking at the blonde. "It's our home," the brunette breathed.
Our home.
"You guys bought this house?" Emma wasn't aware that any dwelling of this calibre even existed in Storybrooke – besides the mayor's mansion of course. For one, it was huge; the ceiling might as well have been the sky it was that tall and the epic floor space extended all around them.
David nodded. "A couple of weeks ago, actually. As soon as your mom walked through the door, I knew I was taking out my cheque book," he said lightly, making sure to flash his wife a winning smile in the process.
"It was exactly what I wanted; what I dreamed of," her mother commented. Her eyes flitted to each corner, most likely envisioning where she was going to put everything. The possibilities were endless.
Emma lived in hope Mary Margaret wouldn't rope her into doing any of that. Something told her that her mother would be very…particular. Interior design wasn't really her thing anyway. The closest she had come to that was figuring out the best place to stack her boxes which usually ended up the same way every time - a leaning tower in a corner.
"You guys bought a house and you didn't think to mention it?" She wasn't angry; just genuinely curious.
"We wanted to surprise you," her father clarified.
"So what do you think?" Mary Margaret directed at her, focusing her attention back on Emma.
Emma slowly ambled over to the stairs and used the bannister for support, leaning her body gently against the wood. Her back still wasn't in top form just yet. "I think it's perfect."
It was no secret that the brunette's eyes glimmered in the light and even David looked somewhat emotional – though in fairness, he was doing that a lot lately. On more than several occasions Emma had caught him on the verge of tears, usually after she had called him 'Dad'. She was still in the process of testing out 'Mom' and 'Dad'; sometimes forming the words was like trying to speak in a different language. She had to warm herself into it with practice even though she slipped up at times and call them by their names. If they did mind, they never showed it.
Ah well, Rome wasn't built in a day. In time, Emma knew they would become part of her everyday vocabulary.
"Do you want to see your room?" he posed, breaking away from his wife and stepping over to help Emma upright.
Your room.
She had her own room. In her own house. With her parents.
Talk about surreal.
"Lead the way Prince Charming," she gestured to her father. Being the oh-so-charming man he was, David angled his elbow so that Emma could link him and placed a hand behind his back, ready to court her up the stairs.
But before Emma mounted the first step, she looked over her shoulder to Mary Margaret who seemed lost in her own faraway land. "Eh, mom? Little help here."
There it was again. As soon as the word 'Mom' hit her eardrum, she automatically smiled and tears flooded her eyes. If Emma wasn't so lost in her mother's loving expression, she would have sighed. Or rolled her eyes. Or raised her eyebrow.
Or all of the above.
The best she could do was angle her elbow too and assume that the brunette would know what she was suggesting.
Eventually she did - but it took an extra few seconds.
Mom.
The way Emma said it so casually made her heart flutter. She'd been addressing both her and David by their respective titles at least once a day and each and every time Snow felt this rush of affection wash over her. Just when she thought there was no possible way she could love Emma any more, her daughter said or did something that made her love her even more – more than she ever thought a parent could love their child. It didn't matter if Emma was the same age as her or that they were friends before the curse broke or that navigating the waters of their relationship wasn't exactly easy – her love for her was unconditional and somehow grew with the passing days.
Quite incredible really.
And as she joined arms with her and saw the light in Emma's eyes spark for a fleeting second, Snow knew it was exactly where she was meant to be.
Thankfully the task of climbing the staircase wasn't as nearly as daunting as Snow had expected. Emma had been improving everyday but a flight of stairs was a big ask and Snow worried about how her daughter would handle it. With every step, the brunette stole a look out of the corner of her eye to gain an idea to any discomfort Emma was feeling and tightened her hold on her arm to assure her that she was going to be okay. That was all she could do.
They guided her down the wide hallway, stopping at the second door on the right. "You ready to see your room?" His hand on the doorknob, Charming waited expectantly.
"You guys realise I'm not a kid, right? It's just a room," Emma answered, raising her shoulder like it was no big deal. Snow knew otherwise. She knew how much this meant to her not-so-little girl. A room wasn't just a room to Emma; it was a promise. A promise that she had a home, and a place within that home. More importantly, it was a promise that she was loved and that she belonged.
"Okay then. Charming will you do the honours?"
David turned the handle and pushed the door wide open. "After you," he said to Emma.
With forced nonchalance, Emma led the way, a bashful smile dancing on her lips.
She didn't want to make a big deal out of it but the whole idea of having her own room made her giddy. She was pretty sure she hid it well though.
Well, she hoped she did anyway.
Holding her breath, she purposely stepped into the room, not really sure what to expect or how to feel. But it didn't matter because as soon as her eyes appraised the room, she was blown away.
Emma assumed it would just be an empty space with perhaps a bed and a dresser but this…this was something else. Yes there was a bed but it was one of those four-poster beds with a canopy she had only ever seen on television or in pictures of swanky hotels that she could never afford to stay in. There was a large dresser decorated with small objects and a long mirror on one side of the room and a bay window on the other. The wardrobe extended across the wall around her bed giving the room a more homely, cosy feel.
She threw her hands up to her chest and started circling, taking in every detail. Pictures of Henry and her parents and friends were stuck on certain parts of the wall, a white shag rug lay on the floorboards, her baby blanket was draped over the covers of her bed, and the walls were a cheerful, warm cream.
Well two of the walls were at least. The wall that surrounded the bay window was a sugary pink complete with a personalised border.
The affirmation Emma had wanted her whole life was showcased over the window. If she wasn't being so careful she would have cried right on the spot. In elegant script, 'Emma' was strewn across the wall.
Her parents had done this for her; somehow they had known what she had wanted all of these years. The bold personalisation was like a stamp of love. A stamp that approved. A stamp that told her she belonged.
She regained her composure and turned to face her parents who looked a mixture of wariness and delight. Oh, and they were crying. But that was nearly a given anyway.
"A pink wall?" Emma asked with a shaky breath.
Mary Margaret's smile was so wide that it looked as though her jaw was about to dislocate. "I couldn't help myself. Every princess needs something pink in her room."
"We know it's not really a room that a regular twenty-eight year old would have but we just-"
"No," Emma interrupted timidly, "it's…amazing. All of this is amazing. I can't believe you guys would do all this for me." Her hands were trembling now but she locked them together and held them close to her chest.
"You can do it up and rearrange it whatever way you like, we were just experimenting and figuring out where things should go but this space is yours so you can have it any way you want," he continued, moving further into the room.
"There is one condition though," Mary Margaret remarked, placing a hand on Emma's shoulder.
"Is it about the pink wall?"
She tilted her head to either side before answering. "Yes and no. The 'Emma' stays there. Forever."
Emma looked at her, taken aback by her seriousness.
"This is your room, Emma. And it always will be."
Her eyes examined each letter individually and this time she wasn't quick enough to blink back the tears. The blonde could count on one hand the times she had been rendered speechless and right then she had nothing. The public declaration of their affection had knocked her ability to formulate sentences.
"You don't like it," her mother assumed, misunderstanding her silence.
Emma sniffed and wiped away the tears. "No, I, uh, I'm just…it's…" She hesitated. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."
Mary Margaret's face crumpled with emotion.
"Before you two start crying again," David interjected as brightly as he could as he raised a hand in authority and drew attention to himself, "I think we should give Emma a little tour of her room."
She arched an eyebrow. "A tour?"
Her father's shoulders slumped momentarily. "Just go with it."
"As long as I can sit down I'm in."
Mary Margaret giggled. "Yes, you can sit, sweetie."
Sweetie.
Yep, terms of endearment were going to take longer to get used to.
Emma didn't need to be told twice; she mounted herself onto the edge of her bed, letting her legs dangle just before the floor. She wisped her hand though the air signalling for David to proceed.
"Okay so I like to pride myself on having a pretty good knowledge of the female mind-"
"Really, Charming? That's what you're leading with?"
He cleared his throat. "Fine. Why don't I just show you?" Dancing around his wife's petite frame, David stalked over to a door next to the wardrobe that Emma didn't notice until then. With added dramatics, he flung open the door to expose Emma's very own bathroom. "Voila! Your very own personal bathroom!"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes I am. Since you women take forever in the bathroom and hold up the rest of us, your own personal space means there's a better chance of me actually being able to get ready in the morning."
"Uh, Charming, you're forgetting one teeny tiny important detail," Mary Margaret pointed out with a sly smirk.
"And what's that?"
"You're the one who takes the most time getting ready."
Emma burst out laughing at her father's shocked but totally caught-out face.
"I do not," he protested weakly, his face turning red.
Mary Margaret lowered herself onto the bed next to Emma, crossing her legs in one swift movement. She leaned in closer to the blonde as if to spill some juicy secret. "Let's just say that Regina wasn't the first one in our weird family tree to have a shine for mirrors," she whispered candidly, using all of the muscles in her face to keep it straight.
"Moving swiftly on," David boomed self-consciously, closing the door and marching around the bed, "take a look at this." He pulled open the doors of the wardrobe.
"Wait, what?" Emma rose awkwardly to her feet and walked over to meet him. Inside was a stack of tops and jeans, and hanging from a metal bar – a red leather jacket. "Wha-how?"
"Well we obviously couldn't buy you a whole new wardrobe because that would be a little weird," the brunette giggled from behind her. "But you had no clothes so Ruby and I took it on ourselves to do some shopping."
Emma winced around. "But how did you know what size I was?"
Her mother shot her a look that said, 'Are you kidding me?' "Emma, I've been doing your laundry for almost a year now – of course I know what size you are."
Well that made sense. The blonde reached out and removed the jacket off the hanger, feeling the cool material in her hand.
"Red's my colour, too," her father observed happily. "Like father, like daughter."
"I guess so," she smiled back.
He tentatively brushed back hair off her shoulder and beamed tenderly. Leaning forward to conspire, his voice was low. "Do you want to know what the best part of the room is?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
He grinned crookedly, gesturing for Mary Margaret to move aside. "This." With a small step forward, he launched himself into the air and landed theatrically in the centre of her bed, his arms and legs spread widely. "I've always wanted to do that," he sighed in content.
"Hey, no fair! You know I can't jump yet!"
"That's why I did it, Emma. I did it for you."
"Oh no you didn't!" Snow scoffed. "He did the same thing in our room," she told the blonde.
"Whatever," David grumbled, hoisting his body off the bed and back onto his feet. "Don't think I don't know what you two are up to," he warned playfully.
"And what would that be?" Though not planned, both Emma and Mary Margaret crossed their arms at the same time, resting their weight on their left legs.
"Okay, that was creepy," David pointed out.
Agreeing with the man's sentiment, Emma shifted position meekly.
"You were saying, Charming?"
He pointed at them knowingly. "You're going to gang up on me. You think that just because you two are like some mother-daughter tag-team duo that you can just push me around and get your way around here, but let me tell you something: I will not be easily moved." His shoulders back and chin high, David clasped his hands seemingly pleased with himself.
"Whatever makes you feel better, honey," Mary Margaret teased as she closed the gap between them.
Much to Emma's relief, her young son bounding into the room disturbed any kind of mushy romantic moment her parents were about to embark on. Even though being around them was becoming much more comfortable than she ever thought possible, watching them make lovey-dovey eyes at one another still made her wish she could permanently remove those instances from her mind. Well, they were her parents – embarrassing their daughter was in the job description.
Henry skidded to a stop in front of Emma and gently wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Hey, kid," she greeted, not exactly sure where he came from. "What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with Regina this week?" Though no official arrangement had been drawn up, Emma and Regina had agreed to split time since Emma still wasn't back to full health just yet and Henry was due to be with her for the next couple of days.
"I am," he replied, pulling back, "but I asked her if I could hang out here for a while. She'll collect me later. What do you think of your room? Pretty awesome, right?"
"Yeah kid, it is," the blonde concurred.
David draped an arm around the boy's shoulder and drew him into his chest. "Aha!" he declared smugly. "Now we're even; two against two. It's nice to have another man around the house."
It was clear that Henry had absolutely no idea why his grandfather was so delighted to see him but he was overjoyed just the same. Henry didn't really have any father figures in his life and Emma was more than happy that he had David now.
"What do you say, buddy; you wanna play catch?"
The kid's face lit up. "Yeah!" he exclaimed, running out of the room with an equally excited grandfather right behind him.
Emma let out a soft snicker as she meandered over to the window and took a look out. Just as her father wanted – a huge backyard. "I guess David got his wish," she mumbled quietly.
"You can say that again." Emma twirled back around to see Mary Margaret fixing the mess the man had made. She gracefully fluffed the pillows and made the bed up to look like it had never been touched. "So…you really like it? Your room?" She smoothed down the sheets with her back to the blonde.
"I love it."
"Really?" The brunette finally met her eyes. "You're not just saying that? Because if you don't like it we can change it; start from scratch if that's what you want." She was babbling and it was those infrequent moments of self-doubt that showed Emma that the Mary Margaret she had known and loved was very much still there beneath the more confident personality and wardrobe.
"No, honestly, this – all of it – is amazing. I've never felt like I've had my own room before. When I was younger I always shared with other kids and then when I got older I moved around so much that no place was ever home – until I got to Storybrooke. My room in your apartment was the first time I had ever felt connected to somewhere." She shuffled over and sat on the bed, putting creases in her mother's hard work. Mary Margaret's eyes never left hers. "As a kid I always dreamt of living in a big house with a white picket fence and huge rooms and yes, a massive backyard to play in but mostly I envisioned having a family and just doing normal family things. It was the little things I wished for: closing the door to my own bedroom and lying on my bed watching television, going into the kitchen and actually being able to take food and eat it without anyone else's permission, hanging out with my mom and going shopping. I know I don't look like the type who wanted all that kind of stuff but when I was kid, I would have given anything for that." She stopped herself, the pricking of tears alerting her. She wasn't expecting to open up. "But…now I have it all – complete with the ultimate bedroom. And it's all because of you guys so, yes, Mom, I love it."
"I'll talk to Charming about putting up a white picket fence."
Emma shoved the woman good-naturedly with her shoulder. "Were you not listening to anything I just said?" she joked.
Mary Margaret returned the smile but then became thoughtful, her brow furrowing slightly. "You wouldn't believe how animated your father got when I suggested we decorate your room. I hadn't seen him throw himself into something so whole-heartedly since…well, since doing your nursery. It was nice to do something like that again for you; at least you get to spend a night in this one." She let out an unsure laugh but Emma knew that was still something her mother struggled with every day; she just wished that there was something she could do to make it all better.
"Well it's pretty incredible." Emma thought about that for a silent moment, casting her mind to all the things her parents had been through with her. "You guys are pretty incredible."
The brunette's expression pressed for her to continue.
"I mean, just think of all the things we've been through since the curse broke – it's been a crazy few months. But somehow you both remained so strong, never once giving up or thinking that we couldn't get through it together. Until I met you, I've never witnessed that kind of faith before; the belief that everything would be okay against all odds. I don't know how you do it."
"It's not as easy as it looks. There's been plenty of times when I haven't been as hopeful. I wasn't very strong when you lost your memory. In fact, I was a shell of myself; I don't think Charming had ever seen me that way. But he reminded me that having faith in you was the most important thing because not having faith meant I had given up on you and that's something I will never do. And then I realized that there was nothing our family couldn't face as long as we're together; that together, we'll always be able to find our way. That's something you have to believe, Emma." Mary Margaret pulled back the drape of blonde hair that obscured Emma's face from her view. "No matter what problem you face, no matter how impossible it may seem or how bleak the outcome looks, you won't ever have to deal with it alone. Together, as a family, we'll get through it. And if my memory serves me correctly, you've never given up on me, either. Not when I was just Mary Margaret but when I was Snow White. You constantly fought for me." Running her hand through the blonde locks, the brunette's eyes burned with nothing but love. Emma couldn't look away. "I'd say you're pretty incredible too, Emma Swan and I couldn't be prouder." She pressed a small kiss to her temple. "I love you, Em."
A watery smile creeping onto her face, the blonde wrapped her arms around her mother, embracing her tightly. "I love you too, Mom."
With Mary Margaret preparing the dinner, Emma decided to take a better look at the backyard and see what Henry and David were up to. Opening the French doors from the kitchen, Emma stepped out into the damp Storybrooke air.
David wasn't joking; the backyard was massive. Apart from the little porch area on which she was standing and the two steps down into the garden, it was a sea of green grass, flowing in the slight breeze.
In the centre of the sea stood a buoyant Henry tossing a baseball back at David and then he to him, every time complementing or congratulating him on a good throw or swing. Emma couldn't help but smile at how vibrant her son was as he ran for each ball as if his life depended on it. It was one of her father's tad-too-powerful-for-a-kid throws that made him realize they had an audience.
"Oh, hey Mom," her son beamed, collecting the ball.
"You guys seem to be having fun."
"I'm not very good at it," he confessed sheepishly.
"What makes you say that? You're doing great."
"I've never played before."
"Well, I have and I know for a fact that I wasn't as good as that when I played for the first time."
"Really?" His eyes grew wide in anticipation.
"Really," she confirmed, running her hand through his hair.
Just then the sound of the back door creaking open caught their attention. Mary Margaret curled her head around the door and called for Henry to come and help her in the kitchen and boy gladly offered his services. Such a great kid.
He gave Emma a quick hug before springing into action inside.
"I didn't know you played catch before," her father said, walking over to her.
Emma sat down on the steps and leaned back on her good hand, her curly locks falling around her. "I used to play baseball with some of the guys back in the system. They weren't too thrilled with the prospect of playing with a girl but when they realized that I was better than half the guys, I was hot property."
"I bet," the man laughed, sitting down cross-legged on the grass to face her. With a mischievous glint in his eye he pitched the ball toward her, giving Emma just enough reaction time to block it away from hitting her right in the stomach.
"Hey!" she grunted. The burn on her hand sizzled under the bandage with the impact. "That hurt."
David scrunched his face. "Sorry."
"Oh, you're gonna be." Emma plucked up the ball and flung it as hard as she could towards him, smacking him right in the left shoulder.
He jerked his arm back, seemingly surprised by its force. "Wow," he said as he rubbed his arm, "you've got some arm on you." Even though he sounded in pain, he was impressed.
Emma shrugged.
"So you liked sports when you were younger?"
"Yeah. I preferred them than playing with dolls."
"What did you play?"
"Mostly just baseball and basketball. I tried football but I was way too uncoordinated to play that," she chuckled.
He shot his eyebrows up to indicate that he was going to throw the ball back to her and this time she was ready to catch it. "What about you? I know you didn't have the classic American pastimes in the Enchanted Forest but what did you do for fun when you were younger?" She lobbed the ball back to him.
"Not much really. I loved being outdoors so I used to hike and go for walks. Scout the area. I was shepherd so most of my time was spent tending to the flock." Again, he passed the ball back to her and she hurled it back at him.
"Oh yeah. Sometimes I forget that you weren't always a Prince."
"So do I."
"How did you, you know, get so good at sword fighting and riding horses and all that royal stuff?" She kind of felt silly asking a question like that but she couldn't deny how interested she was in getting to know her father better.
"Practice, I guess. I didn't really have a choice; it was either become my brother or have myself and my mother killed. There's no incentive like a price on your head."
"Still, it must have been tough to learn all that stuff. I know when I first picked up a sword I was petrified. I'm more of a gun girl," she surmised.
"And yet you've defeated a dragon. That was the first thing I fought with a sword in my hand." He threw the ball to her again.
"It was? I guess we have a few more things in common than I thought." She flipped it back to him.
"We got a lot of catching up to do."
"Yeah, we do," Emma grinned consciously.
They spent the next few minutes in silence just enjoying each other's company chucking the ball back to one another in a steady rhythm. There was something so comfortable about being around her father; the gentle easy way with which he held himself was something she greatly admired and knowing that he wanted to spend time with her and get to know her was one the best feelings she had ever felt.
But a muffled call from Henry from behind closed doors broke the silence and meant one thing: dinner was ready.
The man looked down at the baseball in his hand. "I just played catch with my daughter," he breathed incredulously.
Emma raised her shoulders, self-aware, but finding that truth just as remarkable.
Pulling himself up to his feet, David offered her his hand in aid. She took it without a second thought. "Thanks, Dad."
He paused for a beat, relishing the word. "No problem, Em."
And as Emma entered the house with her Dad and joined her Mom and her son at the dinner table, she felt an overwhelming sense of calm; like there was nowhere else in the world she could experience that amount of love and respect. And even though there were countless things to discuss and no doubt many problems and troubles to face ahead, right there in that moment, Emma was just happy they could breathe easy for a few minutes and push their complicated family issues aside for a little while.
So there it is – the end! Again, thank you all soooo much! I hope it wasn't terrible and you all enjoyed it! I figured I couldn't leave it without showing them in their new house I've really loved writing this story and I've loved hearing what you all thought about it and who knows, maybe I'll end up doing a sequel soon? Or a whole different Charming family story?
So I hope you all liked the ending and if you have time please review and let me know what you thought :)
Until next time! :)