"A bedroom."
The word sounds ridiculous even as she says it.
"Yes, Regina, a bedroom," Izzie Tinker replies, proceeds to explain again. "When you adopt a baby, there's time for the family to find better space as the child grows, so it's alright to set up a crib in your own room, especially in New York City where living space is so limited, but when it's an older child, it's a requirement that they get their own room."
Regina lives in a one-bedroom apartment on 34th street, right between Park and Madison. She loves that place. It's big enough for two people, she thinks, but with only one room, it's a tough sell to the agency, as she's finding out.
"If you really wanted to adopt Henry, you'd have to figure out a way for him to have his own room," Izzie insists. "And since his birthday is in three months, you'd have to do it quick, before he's moved to another county and I can no longer help you."
It's complicated at best. Her lease isn't up for another year, and even if she could get out of it, three months is not enough time for her to find another apartment that would fit her budget, not when that budget has the newly added factor of providing for a nine year-old child...
"Why the sudden interest in Henry?" she hears Izzie ask, her brows knitting in curiosity as she awaits her answer. "Ever since you came to me you said you wanted a baby, and you almost had baby Neal. The Charmings were good candidates but you were still in the running..."
"It didn't fit with Neal," Regina admits. "I didn't... feel it."
"And you felt it with Henry?" Izzie asks then, and Regina feels this somersault in her heart, one that makes her gasp slightly as a tearful smile blooms on her face.
She nods at her caseworker, doesn't say anything else, and her smile is mirrored in Izzie's face as she moves a hand to squeeze hers and whisper, "That's wonderful, Regina."
And though Regina hasn't officially made her decision yet, had only scheduled this meeting so she could toss the idea around and see how it changed her application, there's a ray of hope within her, a light caused by the chocolaty touch of Henry's lips to her cheek when he'd kissed her goodbye after their ice cream last week, by that first hug he'd given her and all the ones that have followed after, the excited giggles and ramblings she's been treated to from the moment she met him...
She wants to keep that light in her world forever.
So when Regina gets home, her first priority is to figure out a solution to the bedroom crisis. And she's an interior designer, for crying out loud, surely she can come up with something that can at least provide a temporary fix until she can find a better apartment.
Her living room is spacious, but the exquisite couch she's placed in it takes up most of the room. It's a giant, hefty thing, with rich upholstery in off-white and cushions in neutral colors that contrast and match all at once. She's rather proud of that couch, rather attached to it, as well, but maybe if she found a way to...
After a long, deep breath, and fueled by her own determination, Regina begins to work.
Izzie stands in her living room, clipboard in hand as she assesses the transformation.
It's been a week weighed down by stress. A week of calling in favors and using up her courtesy discounts at furniture shops, a week of pretending to Henry that her headache isn't about to split her head in two while they play Jenga or watch a movie at the foster home. A week of her riding the afternoon train back and forth from Westchester on an almost daily basis.
But it's also been a week of new beginnings, a week of laughs and hugs and sharing and hot cocoa by the fire. A week of decorating sugar cookies in festive colors, and building gingerbread houses, and singing the cheesiest Christmas carols at the top of their lungs as they sit under the tree they've chosen as their own in the park.
A week where every minute spent with Henry makes her happier than she's ever been, prove to her she's making the right decision.
She hasn't told him yet, doesn't want to get his hopes up in case the paperwork doesn't go through, but it's getting harder and harder to stop herself from mothering him.
They'd delved into Harry Potter a couple of days ago. She'd brought the first book with her, and they'd taken turns reading paragraph after paragraph, and she'd catch herself correcting his pronunciation sometimes, helping him sound out the words that were just a little beyond his comprehension. He'd smiled at her every time, and puffed out his chest proudly when she'd complimented him for improving his reading skills after they closed the book for the day.
They're already halfway through The Sorcerer's Stone, and soon she'll have to purchase The Chamber of Secrets so that they can continue their little reading dates.
A purchase she'll be all too happy to make.
However, the notion that he may not be around for book three or book four of the series, that he'll be in some other home far away from her, is a lump of lead in the pit of her stomach, has anxiety bubbling up inside her whenever she so much as thinks of it.
And so she's invited Izzie over, to show her what she's done with her apartment, hoping that it's enough to get the process moving.
There's a wooden divider from her friend Belle's antique shop set up in the far corner, perpendicular to the wall to create a little nook by the window.
She's repurposed the couch (Leroy, her go-to carpenter, hadn't been too chipper with her request to chop the thing, but when Regina had told him her motive, he'd agreed immediately), and placed it against that wall, opening the space in the middle. Her coffee table looks a bit lonely without the furniture, but Leroy has assured her he can easily make two ottomans out of the couch back he cut off, so those will be delivered within the week to cover the space.
There's a small desk right next to the divider, complete with its own chair, all in burnished pine to match every other wooden piece of furniture in the apartment. Her couch, now a comfortable bed, is neatly made with blue sheets and a cushy navy comforter, and the once-beige wall it's pressed into is now a mural painted in Regina's own hand, all silver and gold and different tones of blue, creating constellation patterns that tie everything together. Henry likes astronomy, she's found out, and thought this would add a personal touch for him to enjoy.
"I've cleared two drawers and half the rack on my closet, so that we can share it," she tells Izzie, "and the bathroom is big enough, we can share that, too. I know it's not exactly a room, but he'd have his own bed, his own space, and this is only temporary, only until I can find us a bigger pla—"
Her caseworker holds up a hand to stop her, and Regina would be terrified of the gesture, if it wasn't for the teary smile the blonde is offering as she voices her verdict.
"It's perfect."
And so when Regina visits Henry again the next day, with the possibility of giving him a home now a solid option on the table, there's a spring in her step, a bit more shine to her eyes, a slight upward curve of her lips even when there's nothing to smile about.
Because there's everything to smile about.
Snow piles on the outsides of the house, a stark change from the cold-but-sunny weather from two weeks ago, and while ice cream is still craved by the boy, he agrees to forgo the frozen treat in favor of a warm cup of cocoa at the cafe down the street, simply because it's closer. She's not a permanent visitor, and therefore cannot take Henry out of the premises, but Izzie works her magic over the phone after Regina puts in the request, and in just a few minutes, she's granted authorization.
"You really love peppermint," Henry observes with a laugh as he watches her stir her cocoa with a candy cane.
"I do," Regina chuckles, and then a deep, honeyed voice drips in as a Hello there from behind her, and Henry's eyes rise to greet Robin as she shivers pleasantly.
"Hi," she greets when he takes a seat beside her.
"I'm sorry for crashing your date, I came to visit Henry and they told me you'd be here," he explains, looking contrite enough for her to believe the apology. She waves it off, though, tells him it's no problem, he's welcome to join them.
"Where's Roland?" Regina asks.
"He had a playdate for the day, actually. I got bored sitting alone at home and thought I'd drop by, take Henry out for cocoa. Seems you've beaten me to it," he answers, but there's no harshness to his tone, only interest, curiosity, and that mutual attraction neither of them have explored yet.
It's been growing, this thing between them, that electric jolt she feels when he touches her only gets stronger every time. Not that he touches her often, but when he does, when his fingers linger over her hand as he's handing her her coat, when he rests his hand at the small of her back to guide her, when he whispers fake secrets into her ear to rile the boys up and accidentally brushes his lips over her skin, it all sparks this heat inside her, this... need.
There was a moment last week, when they'd been walking at the park while the boys ran ahead, where they'd stopped to laugh at something he'd said, Regina can't quite recall what it was, but it had her holding onto his arm as she doubled over, her amusement fizzling from loud guffaws to breathy chuckles, until he'd been too close for her to even remember her own name. His eyes had drifted down to her half-parted lips for a moment, and she'd known then that he wanted to kiss her. And oh, how she'd wanted him to.
She'd almost closed the gap between them, almost, but Roland had chosen that particular second to call out for his father, and so the moment had been lost.
Good thing, too, because Regina isn't exactly sure if she wants to be kissing Robin when she has all these other things to worry about.
Liar, says a voice in her head, as she watches him walk over to the cashier and order himself a drink. And fine, yes, she wants him, wants to know what he tastes like, if he's as good a kisser as he seems, and all this shameless flirting they've been doing only accentuates that desire.
It's nice, though, being there with him and Henry, watching their excitement as they tell her fun stories of things they've done together, stories of games at Yankee Stadium and ice skating in Central Park, of candy shops and museums and movie theaters...
They love each other. That much is clear. Regina can see the way Henry all but worships the ground his big brother walks on, can see the admiration in his eyes as he describes a particularly riveting part of their tale... and Robin is no different. He's always patting Henry on the back, ruffling his hair, play-wrestling and stealing spoonfuls of whipped cream from his cocoa, stirring them into his coffee with a look of triumph on his face, but at no point does he stop smiling at the boy, complimenting him, assuring her over and over again that Henry is the best friend he's ever had.
Regina sends a simple email to Izzie that night, one line that she types up in seconds, more convinced than ever that this is right.
I want Henry to be my son.
Her message is met with an enthusiastic reply, but as a PS, Izzie adds the stipulation that she please not tell Henry just yet, that it's best to wait until everything is finalized, and Regina has enough common sense to know that that's the way it should be. Bbut when she visits Henry the next day, it's incredibly hard to keep her mouth shut.
Robin is there with him, both of them absorbed in The Jungle Book, humming along as Baloo sings about his easy life. And because she has to tell someone, she finds herself catching Robin's eye and jerking her head towards the door, silently asking him to follow her.
"Regina? Is something wrong?" he asks, his hand running up and down her arm, an attempt to comfort even before he knows what she has to say. Regina appreciates it, but shakes her head in answer, and blurts out the news in an excited whisper.
"I'm adopting Henry."
His eyes widen, mouth dropping open for a moment before he asks, "Are you really?"
She smiles, nods, "I still have to wait for approval on the modification of my application... I wanted a baby, so the process is a little different, but... yes. I am."
It's the first time she's said it out loud since she made the decision, and somehow hearing it, uttering it, fills her with a happiness she's never really known before.
Robin's smile mirrors her own, his gaze softening, affection coloring his tone as he tells her, "You're going to be a great mother, Regina."
The words have tears building in her eyes, one of them traitorous enough to brim and spill, a salty trail down her cheek that he wipes away with his thumb as she thanks him.
"I mean it," he insists, "Henry loves you, and I've seen the way you are with him. He's lucky you found him."
"No," Regina corrects, thinking back to the day she met the boy, when he'd approached her with nothing but Girl Scout Cookies and good intentions. "He found me."