I am so excited to share this chapter with you. I hope it makes you smile :)
As the commencement of the ceremony draws near, the mayor of Storybrooke paces the open room that is normally used for town hall meetings, obsessing over the placement of each floral arrangement as she goes over her vows for the…she couldn't remember exactly how many times, while her daughter entertains herself with her favorite cartoon. Regina and Emma had opted to write their own vows for that evening and the restless monarch doesn't want to leave anything out.
Her anxiety spikes when she notices several members of her family arrive, signaling the passage of time. Initially, the couple opted not to have an audience at all, expressly to avoid this kind of stress. But Emma managed to convince her fiancée, despite Regina's trepidation, to have an official ceremony and invite the family. Regina would never, not for a second, have considered excluding her children from this momentous occasion, but part of her is starting to regret agreeing to invite the in-laws. She can only imagine what Emma must experiencing since Mary Margaret insisted on meeting the young woman at their mansion to help her prepare.
Regina and Emma chose to keep the event informal for a number of reasons. The brunette woman already had a big wedding as a teenager, for a loveless marriage. It was one of the worst days of her life. So, Emma understood why Regina didn't want anything flashy. Though, the queen would have happily agreed to a big wedding if that was what her partner desired. The elder of the Charming children didn't have a wedding at all the first time she married, but that was never one of her goals in life. Her dreams had finally come true; with Regina, she found her home.
The regal woman selected a particularly dramatic outfit for this evening, very different from her first wedding dress, which reminded her of a straight-jacket, and not because of the corset. She was, after all, a prisoner in that castle—the dress…a symbol. Tonight she would be wearing something that was completely her: a metallic sheath dress with minimized cap sleeves, a rounded neckline, accented with mesh cut-outs, and a straight hem that hit slightly above the knee. Because the back of the dress plunged into a deep V, ending just shy of her tailbone, Regina used body glue to ensure that the dress would remain on her shoulders. The outfit was complete with matching T-strap heels that showed off her toenails, which were painted blood-red.
As she continues to move about aimlessly, she is guided out of her trance by the most powerful word that she had ever heard.
"Mom."
Worried that her son is all too aware of her inner turmoil, the tense woman quickly assures, "I'm good," before Henry even has a chance to inquire.
The college student had chosen to dress up for the occasion, though not in a formal tux. He wore a dark-grey suit that his mother had bought for him when he first went away to college, a crisp white shirt, and a red and black patterned tie. Though he wasn't expected to wear a tie, he though he would impress his mother by showing off his recently acquired skill—maybe some other day.
Seeing her son's accessory draped around his shoulders, Regina springs to action. "Oh, I'm sorry, Henry. Do you need help?"
"Yeah," he sheepishly admits, "I still can't get it to look as good as when you do it."
Fortunately, Regina had been tying her son's ties for years she no longer had to think about the process. Her hands get to work, without the aid of awareness. "That's alright, honey, you just need a little more practice."
He smiles in understanding. "I thought you could use a distraction."
"No, I'm good." Her sigh is telling. "You're right. I do need a distraction." Even with the aid of her three and-a-half inch heels, she is still shorter than her son, who seemed taller each time she saw him. Finishing the task, she reaches up to cradle his face. "I'm so glad you came."
"I wouldn't have missed it." He notes that his mother's attention appears divided. "Are you ready for this?"
"Of course, I'm ready," she responds as though it's the simplest answer. "I must be." She always hated lying to her son. "My palms won't stop sweating."
"Mom, she already said 'yes.'"
Maybe it was relief from finally voicing her fear that gave her first tear permission. She carefully wipes her cheek, remaining mindful of her makeup. "She could change her mind."
"She won't," Henry asserts. "Emma loves you."
Regina reclaims her matching clutch that she abandoned on a nearby chair, when Henry required assistance. "I've been putting this off, and now I'm afraid I waited too long." She draws out a petite black box.
"You still have her ring." His shock is genuine. "I thought you would have given it to her by now."
"I know," Regina laments. "I just—" She hesitates. "What if she doesn't like it?"
"There is no way she's not going to like it. Mom's going to love it."
"You think so?"
"You should give it to her."
"I don't know…" The doubt is back. Thankfully, she is with the one person, besides Emma, who has the ability to combat the toxic thought.
"Mom, you know her." When he is met with pleading eyes, Henry adds, "What's your heart telling you?"
Inhaling a shuddered breath, she answers, "That I should give it to her."
"Why don't you give it to her tonight? There's no way she'll be expecting it."
"Okay." Her smile is confident. "I'm going to do it."
"What time is she supposed to get here?"
"We're supposed to start in"—she looks at the mounted clock—"less than fifteen minutes, so she should be here soon." At that moment, she becomes aware of a quiet child, standing next to them. "Do you need something, sweetheart?"
Charlie is extra excited this evening, because she finally gets to wear her special dress. The precious outfit was sleeveless, constructed out of white cotton/polyester eyelet, with a pink satin sash that rested half-an-inch below the armholes. A white flower disguised the fake tie, the tails of which were left loose, and the hem of the dress rested at the middle of the tiny child's calf, showing off Charlie's matching shoes. Regina had purchased the outfit specifically for this occasion, it was meant to be a surprise for the little girl's blonde mother, plus she couldn't say no to her daughter when Charlie fell in love with the pretty pink sash. To her child's added delight, she had taken time this afternoon to thoughtfully place flowers in her baby's hair, which she pulled back on the sides into a braid, Emma's favorite. Her daughter appeared to be the very essence of spring. All that she required was the finishing touch—and Charlie knows exactly what that is, given her role in this event.
"Can I have my flowers now?"
"As soon as your mother gets here, honey," Regina reminds. "She and your grandmother should be here very soon." When she straightens up, the queen is suddenly dizzy. She's probably dehydrated too, Regina detects. Not wishing to cause her children alarm, she calmly whispers, "Henry, would you mind distracting your sister?"
"No problem," he dutifully replies. "Want to race me down the hall, Charlie?"
The pleased girl nods her enthusiasm. It didn't matter what activity her brother suggested, she always wanted to spend time with him.
Having overheard the exchange, a miniature version of Regina's soon-to-be-father-in-law comes running up. Of course, Snow White would put the poor little guy in a tux. "Can I race too?"
"Sure, buddy. Let's go!"
Though her eyes remain closed Regina's mom sense heightens; she can tell how fast the children are running. "Please be careful," the vigilant mother reproves before they dash out of the room. When she nearly loses her balance, she feels a sturdy hand under her arm followed by a familiar voice.
"Why don't you sit down, take a deep breath."
Leave it to Prince Charming to come to the rescue. The more casually dressed David had spotted Regina's distress and was ready with a glass of water.
"I'm afraid I'll be sick if I don't pace." She suppresses a wave of nausea. "You're right, maybe I should sit." She gratefully accepts the offered glass.
"Did you ever think we'd get to this point?"
Taking a sip, she shakes her head. "I still can't believe this is actually happening." She feels the weight of each word as she says, "I'm about to marry the love of my life."
"I know my daughter would say the same." Though he knows Regina has every reason to be happy, his friend's glum state is cause for concern. "Seriously, are you alright?"
"I will be. I just need to see my wife."
7777777
"This is so exciting! My little girl is getting married." Mary Margaret unzips the garment bag precariously placed on the closet door, exposing a strapless, floor-length, A-line, ivory chiffon dress with a beaded empire waist and a ruched sweetheart bodice. When her daughter, who is seated in front of the vanity, remains silent, the concerned mother prompts, "Honey, what's wrong?"
Emma had spent the last few hours slowly preparing for this evening. Curling her hair had proved quite a challenge since she had to remain in bed. It's a wonder that she managed not to burn herself. The hassle was worth it, Emma observes. The soft curls cascading down and around her shoulders combined with the delicate veil created a picturesque finish.
She was not on total bed-rest, but Whale had advised that she take it easy for a while and spend as much time as possible reclining. Now at the beginning of her third trimester, she had already decreased her activity level significantly, except for daily trips to the community center for low-impact water aerobics. Though she knows this pregnancy won't last forever, she is ready to feel like herself again. At least, for tonight, she's going to do her best. Sighing heavily and securing the last bobby-pin, the young woman answers. "My stupid hands won't stop shaking."
"Aw, honey…"
"Why am I so nervous?"
"It's your wedding night," Snow White answers as if it is the most obvious explanation.
Emma turns around to face her mother. She is not amused. "Please tell me you understand that I'm pregnant with her children."
"I know, but this is a new beginning. Isn't that why you wanted to get married on the first day of spring?"
Her words fall on deaf ears. As of late, when Emma's hormones are running the show, she fails to find the humor in situations.
"Nothing's changing. We already live together. We share the same bed every night. We have two kids and two on the way—I shouldn't be this nervous," the younger woman sputters. She decides to distract herself with her dress. "I need my body to calm down."
"Take deep breaths, Emma," the patient mother coaches, she imagines that she could be just as unreasonable when she was pregnant. "I just can't believe it's finally happening."
Emma guides the garment over her protruding belly. "It'd better be happening, because I'm not giving birth to any more babies until I can add MRS to my name." Lingering on the thought of the radiant brunette who is dedicating her life to her happiness, the blonde woman softens. "Do you think she'll like it?"
"Emma, you're breathtaking."
"Thanks, Mom." Her tone is muted. "But, I only want to take her breath away."
"You will. Trust me. You will."
When she registers her mother's hesitation with the invisible closure, Emma inquires, "What's wrong?"
Mary Margaret continues to struggle. "When was the last time you had a fitting?"
"I think my last one was a week ago." She tries to remember. "I'm not sure. Why?"
"I'm having some trouble with the zipper."
"Is it stuck?"
"Not exactly..." She's afraid to tell her anxious daughter the truth. Fortunately for her, the perceptive woman figures it out.
"I knew this would happen."
"It's okay, we can fix this," Mary Margaret declaims. "It's only a few inches we need to cover." After a brief stint in the walk-in, she reappears, producing a questionable, at best, option. "You can wear a jacket."
"Black?" The bride's irritation is growing. "Are you serious? I realize I'm not the most trendy when it comes to fashion, but I know these don't go together."
The weary mother admits defeat. "It's all I could find." She tries to focus on the positive. "Plus, it will keep you warm."
"That's what my coat is for." Emma quickly centers herself, remembering the point of the evening. "I guess it's better than nothing." To her mother's great relief, she accepts the cropped jacket. Fortunately, it was a dressier option and its collar compliments the cut of the dress, since she would need to wear it open, she surveys as she considers the possibility in the front of the stand-alone full-length mirror. "Maybe it doesn't look that bad."
Eager to get out of the house, Emma accepts the less than ideal solution to the wardrobe malfunction and sits on the vanity stool to slip on her ballet slippers. Since she rarely had a reason to dress fancy she would have preferred to wear heels this evening. Unfortunately, because of her pregnancy, they would remain out of the equation for a while. "No!" Her aggravation had reached the boiling point.
"What happened?" Mary Margaret had been straightening up the make-shift dressing room and didn't witness the reason for her daughter's distress.
"I can't…" Emma has to pause in order to keep her tears in check. She had spent close to an hour on her makeup, though much of that time she was experimenting with eye-shadow, she wasn't about to mess it up now. She wanted everything to be perfect when she married her true love. "My shoes don't fit," she despairs.
"Your feet are probably a little swollen, that's all." Mary Margaret kneels beside the dejected woman, carefully evaluating the situation. "Yeah, they're swollen. After the ceremony you should prop them up."
"But I spent the whole day in bed," the young woman whines.
"Honey, this isn't your fault."
"Great." She is unconvinced. "Now the only thing I'll be able to fit into is fuzzy pink slippers."
"Well then, it's a good thing Regina's not marrying you for your feet." She recognizes a little too late that she picked the wrong time to make light of Emma's predicament. "Emma?" She places a reassuring hand on the young woman's trembling shoulder, but, under the circumstances, she doesn't have the heart to remind her daughter about the natural enemy of mascara.
"This isn't how I imagined it."
"What do you mean?"
"Look at me." Emma gestures toward her non-existent waist. When she catches sight of herself in the mirror, she cries harder. "I'm a mess!"
"No, you're not."
"This is supposed to be one of the most important moments of my life and I can't even wear the shoes I picked out or fit into my dress…" she trails off, hiding her face in her hands.
She doesn't know if it will help, but Mary Margaret tries to add a note of encouragement. "Your breasts look amazing."
"Thank you," Emma replies in a muffled voice.
"Honey, listen to me. None of this will matter when you see Regina. You know how much she loves you."
That got through to her.
"I guess I'm feeling crazy because this is the longest I've gone without seeing or talking to Regina since I got back." She surprises her mother with the next admission. "I think she's mad at me."
"Why would she be mad at you?"
"It's just been so hard," Emma begins. "My back hurts all the time, I can't get comfortable, I can't sleep; I'm not used to so many restrictions. Regina's only been great and I've been difficult and irritable and…I'm afraid I've…" She's worried if she voices the truth then that will make it real.
"Honey, I'm sure she understands. You're pregnant with her children."
When she feels a familiar stir, Emma places her right hand over the area that guards her babies. "I know kids. I'm ready to see your mom too."
"I'm sure she's not mad at you." Understanding that her words are not enough to suffice, Mary Margaret decides to go against her own rules. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
She doesn't have time to change her mind, the sought party answers on the first ring.
"Mary Margaret."
"Regina."
"Is everything alright?" She can tell by the silence on the other end that they are not.
"She's very upset."
The younger woman doesn't have a chance to elaborate before the other party jumps to accusation.
"What did you do?"
Mary Margaret pushes her luck. "Why do you always assume it's my fault?"
"Because it usually is…" Regina replies, mimicking her friend's tone.
Hoping that these will not be her last words, Mary Margaret comes clean. "I may have made an inappropriate joke about her feet."
The queen is positively vibrating. "How could you do that?" she exclaims, her volume rising. "You know how sensitive she is."
"I'm sorry," Mary Margaret defends. "I didn't mean to make her cry."
Sooner than expected, the woman who still has the power to strike terror in Snow White's soul is looming over her.
"Where is she?" the queen demands.
"She's in your bedroom."
"I'll deal with you later." Her words were clipped.
The petrified woman's only hope is for her daughter to distract Regina long enough that she won't remember her threat.
The queen inhales a cleansing breath before opening the door. Careful not to startle her princess, she calls into the room. "Emma…"
"Regina," a weak voice replies from the corner by the vanity.
Regina rushes to the crumpled woman's side, relaxing when she feels her beloved's arms around her, shivering at the sensation of Emma's fingers against her skin. "What happened?"
"I've been so horrible."
"What? No, honey—"
"Yes," she insists. "You've been great and I've been irritable, and unreasonable, and—"
"Beautiful."
The young woman is stunned silent.
"You're so beautiful."
Having lost her train of thought entirely, Emma timidly explains, "I just wanted to look pretty for you." The ache is too strong to deny. "I missed you."
Regina catches her precious girl. "I missed you too." Her eyes begin to sting. "Thank you for loving me so much."
"I do love you, with all my heart." She feels her woman's arms secure their hold. "I was so worried that you were mad at me."
"Emma, if I did anything to make you feel—"
"You didn't." She meets brown eyes. "I guess I'm becoming more self-aware."
"You are never anything less than amazing." When her love looks away in shame, Regina adds, "I mean that, Emma."
"I know I've been difficult."
"I don't care." She decides to put her lips to better use, silently—and successfully—encouraging her gorgeous bride. She is immediately startled by a pronounced kick against her own stomach. "I felt that."
"Yeah…" The blonde woman's glow has returned. "They know their mama's home. Maybe they'll calm down now."
Regina places her own hand over Emma's. "Did they give you trouble today?"
"Well, they seem to like kicking that spot. I think they gang up sometimes."
"Noooo," Regina wails. "Don't gang up on your poor mother." She begins massaging the sore area.
"It's okay," Emma comforts. "They kept me company. Well, the twins and the cats kept me company. But, my mother's making me crazy."
The older woman furrows her brow. "She told me she made you cry. So, you understand why I have to kill her."
The two women share some much needed laughter.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah, I just needed to see you. Thanks for coming home."
The queen promised herself that she would never be the cause of her girl's heartache. "Emma, I'm sorry if I seemed distant this morning."
"It's okay. I've been acting like a selfish jerk."
"Maybe," she jokes. "But, you're allowed to be a jerk."
Though she is grateful for such an understanding spouse, Emma insists on holding herself accountable. "It's not fair. You do everything."
"Not even close." Her tone is firm. "Emma, I watched you sacrificed your body, your peace of mind, sleep, freedom, and more to carry our children. It would be a crime if I expected anything more than that. I'm supposed to take care of you—and Charlie. You only need to worry about taking care of yourself, because your body is taking care of our girls." She backs off. "You're not selfish. Giving life to our children is the least selfish thing you could do. And I am not mad at you. Trust me, when I am, you'll know."
Even with tears streaming down her face, the young woman giggles at Regina's lighthearted comment.
"I love you no matter how difficult you are. You're my Emma."
"Did you just recite your wedding vows?"
"I was just warming up."
"I knew it. You are going to kill me."
She shakes her head. "That hasn't been my goal for many years."
"Really?" Emma teases. "Your dress is deadly."
"Do you like it?"
Her smile doesn't waver. "Like doesn't even begin to cover it. This is definitely the sexiest thing I have ever seen you wear, hands down."
Regina doesn't even try to hide her blush. Only Emma could make her feel so special.
The blonde woman's tone grows serious. "I've been so concerned with providing stability for Charlie I haven't even considered how difficult all of this must be for you." When the queen hides her eyes in embarrassment, Emma prompts, "Regina...?"
In a faint admission, the truth comes out. "I'm scared."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Her eyes, misty, Regina replies, "Because you're not supposed to worry about me."
The young woman grows more passionate. "Regina, this is a partnership and if my partner is struggling I need to know." She grasps nervous hands, holding them close to her chest, silently urging Regina to meet her eyes. "This is not a one-sided deal. I'm supposed to take care of you too. Regina, you are my life. You've been so incredible these last six months; you seem to take everything in stride. And, I've been feeling crazy, because I've been neglecting the most important part of myself." Brown eyes meet blue. "Do you realize that you get me through each day? I don't have to wonder whether or not you love me. You love me; that's what I know. It's never a question. With you, I don't doubt my value, because you helped me recognize my worth. And you continue to show me, every day."
The brunette woman smiles in appreciation.
Becoming more emotional, Emma confesses, "I've been neglecting us. That should never happen." Instantly, all composure is lost. "Can we start over? Please."
The need to console her princess is overpowering. Hugging her close, Regina rubs soothing circles on her angel's back as she rocks her. "We're okay, Emma." The younger woman cries harder into Regina's shoulder. "We're okay," she repeats. She places a reassuring kiss on her girl's temple. "I was going to wait until later to give you this,"—she opens her clutch—"but now seems to be the opportune time; plus, I'm already kneeling." When she draws out the small black box, her fiancée gasps, imagining its contents. "I know you said you didn't need one, but, after you left, the only thing that kept me going was hope that I would see you again." She opens the lid revealing a dazzling princess cut diamond. "And I knew that when I did, I would place this ring on your finger and ask you,"—she swallows the lump in her throat—"to let me spend the rest of my life making you happy."
Emma's voice cracks when she tries to speak; her palms are practically dripping with sweat. "How long have you had that?" She doesn't have to wait for a response. Regina's eyes reflect the harsh fact. "Not the whole time I was gone?"
There is another pause.
"I wanted to be able to give it to you—"
Regina doesn't have a chance to finish, but then, she doesn't mind. Her lips are busy attending to a more significant task.
"Does that mean you like it?"
The overjoyed young woman nods as she offers her trembling left hand to her queen, without prompting.
"It's also enchanted," Regina explains. "It will always keep you safe. Even if I'm not around, no harm will ever come to you." She clarifies, "My love follows this ring, Emma. I've had it so long it's difficult to part with. But it's yours, it has always been yours." She brings the cherished hand to her lips, sealing her promise with a gentle kiss.
Emma regards her new treasure. The gem appears to be glowing. "It's us, Regina. It's our story."
"Are you okay?"
"I never thought I was a ring kind of girl, but now I never want to be without it."
Regina wraps her arms around her love. "You'll never be without it, or me." She cradles her beloved's face. "Don't cry, sweetheart. I don't want to be the cause of your tears."
"This is just something that happens all the time now," Emma jokes, lightening the mood.
"Do you like your ring?"
"I don't think I'll be able to keep my eyes off it for the rest of the evening."
"I didn't know I was creating competition for myself," Regina quips.
"There's no competition. Your love is everything." Her sincerity is unmistakable.
Moved by Emma's devotion, the queen immediately regrets her thoughtless comment and clears her throat. "Are you feeling better?"
"I would feel even better if I didn't have to let go of you"
In that moment, the older woman spots bare toes poking out from underneath layers of thin fabric. "Honey, where are your shoes?"
"My feet," Emma indicates. "They're too big."
"Oh, sweetheart…" Regina examines them more closely. "Does that hurt?"
Melting at her lover's touch the blonde woman hums in appreciation, letting her eyes flutter closed.
Encouraged by the young woman's reaction, Regina adjusts her position and begins massaging her favorite feet. "When did you get your toes done?"
Emma snaps out of her haze, she was thoroughly relaxed—and definitely turned on. "Oh, uh, today…" She sends her masseuse a grateful smile. "Do you like them?"
"I like them very much, but then there's not a part of your body that I'm not fond of." Emma's blush and coy smile sends a familiar shiver up the brunette woman's spine. She decides to flirt. "You know what I do with Charlie when I have her feet?"
"No," Emma playfully warns at the sight of Regina's mischievous grin.
The queen begins with a single toe held between her index finger and thumb, "This little piggy went to market."
"Regina…" she tries to sound firm.
"This little piggy stayed home."
Her laughter, which came out as a squeal, betrays her. "Regina, no piggies!"
"And this little piggy…."
"Seriously," Emma shouts, "I don't want to have an accident in my wedding dress." She is not at all displeased, if her dimples are any indication.
"I'm not that cruel." Regina quickly runs her fingers up the unsuspecting woman's calf, lingering on smooth skin.
Emma recovers. "I wonder sometimes." She smiles lovingly at the woman below her. "I guess I'm going to be in slippers for the rest of the evening. But the dress is long enough to cover them, as long as I don't move too much."
"Emma, you could show up in flannel pajamas and I'd still want to marry you tonight, in front of the entire town."
She checks. "We only invited my parents, right?"
Regina nods. "Plus, Archie will be there to officiate." She notices the younger woman fidgeting with the sleeve of her jacket. "Are you okay?"
"I'm a bit warm."
"Let me help you."
Both women struggle to stand, laughing at each other in the process.
Regina tingles at the luscious sight of bare shoulders and toned arms before registering what the jacket had been concealing. "What happened?" she exclaims.
"It fit a week ago," is Emma's bashful remark.
"Oh, sweetheart," she giggles, embracing her girl from behind. "I'm sorry you're having such a hard time."
"It's because of my enormous rack." She didn't mean to bait Regina with that comment, but that's exactly what happened.
Her voice dripping with lust, the queen places a kiss next to Emma's ear, driving the blonde woman wild. "I appreciate your enormous rack." With a wave of her hand the dress gains the needed two inches of fabric at the top of the closure. "There, all better. Now, you don't have to wear the jacket—unless you want to…"
Emma turns to face her hero, capturing Regina's lips in a demonstration of passion. "I wish we didn't have to leave this room," she breathes. "All I want is to go to bed with you."
The brunette woman's eyes widen. "Wow, w-we haven't…I-I-I mean you haven't…"
The young woman nods. "It's hard to feel desirable in compression stockings."
"How do you feel now?"
Turning up the heat, Emma entices, "Well, I'm not wearing any stockings…"
No, no, you are definitely not, Regina thinks. She gulps. "You know, we could come home right home after we say 'I do.'"
"As much as I would like to…I think it would be rude not to show up for our own reception, especially since we didn't invite any of our friends to the ceremony."
Regina exhales, "You're right. You're always right."
Emma brightens. "Remember that, kids." She pokes at her belly. "You're my witnesses." Gazing into soulful eyes, she acknowledges, "I think this marriage is off to an excellent start."
Their kisses grow desperate.
"What the…" Emma laughs. "What is this?"
"Oh," Regina realizes to what Emma is referring. "I had to glue them. I didn't want to give anyone a free show."
The young woman laughs even harder at the adorableness. "Well, how am I supposed to get this off?"
With a flick of a wrist, Emma gets her answer.
"I love magic."
When Regina feels the backs of her knees make contact with the vanity stool, she sits, changing their positions. Emma doesn't waste time. She straddles her queen, hiking up yards of chiffon in the process. She is eager to feel her woman completely. Their hands grow more confident and their kisses more insistent.
When Regina's phone indicates a new call, the stimulated princess pants, "Don't answer it." To the blonde woman's tremendous benefit Regina remained unaffected by the interruption, as the first surge of pleasure hits. She had nearly forgotten about her increased sensitivity.
After another minute, the phone rings a second time.
Regina's mouth abandons its task. In her fervor she hadn't realized how much she required oxygen. "I should see who it is. They obviously need to get in touch with me."
"I'd like to get in touch with you too," the half-naked woman complains.
Regina smiles at the adorableness of her bride as she reaches for her phone. "It's Henry." She places a single kiss on Emma's chest before answering, the tang of salt tantalizing her taste buds.
"Hi, honey. Oh, I…she's fine." The person in question is actually a little chilly. Regina continues to caress the younger woman's bottom with the hand that remains hidden from sight. "I gave her the ring." Emma regards the precious object resting against glistening olive skin. "Yes, I think it's a hit. You were right. Okay, we'll be there soon. I love you too. Bye sweetheart."
The frustrated woman sighs. "We should probably get used to our kids interrupting us, even after they leave the nest."
Regina slinks her hand back underneath bunched up fabric, over a firm thigh, and up to cradle the blonde woman's belly. "Well, they won't be leaving the nest for a long time."
"They had better not be leaving my womb for a while either." She points in their direction. "You two still need to cook."
"Listen to your mother."
Their lips meet in a tender kiss.
Regretfully, Regina releases the alluring woman on her lap and eases her into an upright position, holding her steady. "I should probably go. I'd take you with me, but…"
"We don't know how magic would affect them." She holds the top of her gown in place, as Regina makes light work of the zipper.
"I hate leaving you." The queen places a feathery kiss on her beloved's shoulder. "Be sure to wear your coat and your slippers. It's chilly outside." She changes back into her dress, all evidence of her humanity erased.
"Regina—the next time I kiss you, I'll be kissing you as your wife."
"And the next time I make love to you," the brunette woman purrs, "we'll be celebrating our wedding night."
A new idea occurs, carnal desires being forefront in her brain. "You know, maybe we don't have to go to that reception after all."
Though Regina sympathizes, she understands that Emma wouldn't want to blow off a celebration with friends, especially since the citizens of Storybrooke had spent so much time planning the event. "I'll see you in a few minutes, Mrs. Mills."
As soon as her sultry wife disappears in a puff of purple smoke, Emma calls, "Mom, you can come in now."
Two seconds later, the summoned woman pokes her head inside the room. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes. I'm ready."
"Hey, quick question: Is your wife going to kill me?" Normally, Mary Margaret would not be so forthcoming. Regina left her legitimately terrified.
Emma smiles to herself. "I think she's going to be a tad distracted tonight, if you know what I mean."
Of course Snow White knew she just didn't want to admit it.
Her eyes are immediately drawn to the exquisite gem. "Wow! Did she finally…?"
The blonde woman sends her mother a knowing look. "Come on, Mom, I know you were listening outside the door."
"I was not." She was. "Maybe a little," she admits, "but I went downstairs when I realized that you two were…you know…"
"I know. Believe me, I know." She's getting hot just thinking about it.
Understanding where her daughter's mind remains, Mary Margaret focuses on Emma's new jewelry. "It's even more stunning than I remember. She couldn't wait to give you that ring. She never let it out of her sight."
Emma is brought back to that moment when Regina confessed that she had held onto the ring for the years that she was away.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She sniffs. "I just can't wait to be her wife."
Mary Margaret beams in approval. "We need to get you down to City Hall."
"Did I ruin my makeup?"
Though almost every trace of cosmetics had been washed away by tears, Emma's joy overshadows any possible imperfection.
"You never needed it anyway."