Chapter Ten: Operation: Apology
After Henry left to take Roland to school, Regina couldn't bring herself to stand from her spot on the couch. She knew she had to meet Robin at the elevator, but her body was frozen. Her face was blank, no clear emotion in it, but that was always exactly how she liked it.
She couldn't bring herself to cry. This wasn't like the last tantrum. She understood that he was upset with his boss and not her, but her heart still stung from the argument. He never spoke to her that way. Ever. He never dared to. But today he did. And Regina had no idea how to feel about it.
Knock, knock, knock.
Regina was lost in her thoughts. She wanted to answer the door, but she couldn't move. It wasn't Henry, he would have just walked back in. She knew who was on the other side, but she wasn't ready for him to see her like this.
When is anyone ready for this, Regina, she thought.
Knock, knock, knock. "Regina, I know you're in there. Please let me in," he said, his face pressed close to the door while he spoke.
Tell him it's open. He'll comfort you. Somehow he'll find the words you need to hear. Or just hold you until you're yourself again. Let him see you. Open up to him.
"Regina, please. I understand if you want to be alone right now, but just say something so I know you're alright," he pleaded. He was worried about her.
When was the last time someone worried about you, Regina? Don't hide yourself from him. If anyone deserves to see you, it's Robin.
"It's unlocked," her voice cracked, perhaps from pushing too hard when she snapped at Henry or maybe the emotions she was bottling up were stuck there wanting to escape. She cleared her throat trying to push the feelings further inside herself, where they were safe.
She watched the knob turn as the door slowly opened. He stepped inside and placed his briefcase on the floor, looking first into the kitchen and then to the living room when he finally spotted her. He shut the door and walked to her, kneeling before her, taking her hands in his.
"It's a bit too soon for that, don't you think?" She said, the sarcasm clear in her voice. He looked down, confused by her comment, but released a breathy chuckle when he got the joke: his position resembled a proposal. Regardless, he didn't move. He wanted to see her face, be close to her, let her know everything would be okay.
"I'm sorry," he said, his smile dropping and his eyes reflecting a sincerity she didn't quite understand.
"You've done nothing wrong," she stated.
"And neither have you," he retorted and she looked down at their hands, her thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles for comfort.
"But I put you in this position when I chose to pursue you, even after I learned you were Henry's mother. And for that-"
"Please," she cut him off, closing her eyes to hide the pain. "Don't apologize for wanting me."
Robin understood that perhaps an apology was not the right direction. She was right. He wasn't sorry for wanting her and chasing after her. He was just, for the first time in his adult life, at a loss for words.
"I hope he wasn't rude to you this morning," Regina said, worried about her son even through her own pain.
"He was a perfect gentleman," he replied, catching her by surprise.
"Well, good. I'm glad. And I can help you find a replacement sitter for tomorrow night. Or we can just reschedule," she offered, really not wanting to do that, but her guilt overpowered her selfishness.
"That won't be necessary. I have one," he said. Regina nodded with a forced smile and he leaned down to kiss her hands before adding, "Henry offered to watch Roland, free of charge."
Her eyes shot up from her lap to look into his eyes. He couldn't be serious. He just yelled about quitting and now he was giving his services away for free? What was going on with her son?
"He did?" She couldn't hide her expression of disbelief.
"Indeed. His only stipulation was, and I quote, 'Take her someplace nice. She deserves it.' So that ruins my plan for a date at the Shake Shack," he teased and she laughed, covering her mouth when she felt like tears would fall down her face. Robin kept his hands on her thighs just above her knees and leaned his head down into her lap. His chin rested on his own hands as he looked up at her. "He was angry at me, Regina. But we were able to clear the air."
"What did he say?" She asked, yearning to know more so her heart wouldn't feel as heavy.
"He will open up to you when he's ready. It's not my place," he said and she leaned back, nodding in agreement wanting to respect her son's privacy. "But I can tell you: that young man loves you very much. And more importantly, he has the upmost respect for you. Although he may not have shown it today, he does. You raised a fine boy, Regina. Truly."
She smiled and a tear finally escaped from the corner of her eye. She shook her head wanting it to stop, but it was too late. Robin didn't hesitate to wipe it away with his thumb, his palm lingering against her cheek when she leaned into his touch.
"Thank you," she whispered, kissing the inside of his hand softly at the sight of his dimples when he smiled in return.
Regina came home from work Thursday evening dreading the tension she expected to fill her apartment. She was pleasantly surprised to find Henry seated on the floor in the living room, his back against the sofa and schoolbooks scattered across the coffee table. She immediately turned her attention to the TV, but was happy to see he was obeying her punishment when she noticed it was turned off.
"How was work?" He asked, his nose in a book while he scribbled notes into his binder.
"Nothing too exciting today, I'm afraid. How was your day?"
"About as exciting as yours. I've been teaching Roland a little bit about music so we walked by Strawberry Fields on our way home from school," he smiled at the thought of it, his eyes still focused on his homework.
Regina had always been a fan of The Beatles. Her father would sing their songs to her as a child and they were often heard around the kitchen while they cooked together, dancing and laughing the entire time. She carried on the tradition with her son, his favorite lullaby being Yellow Submarine.
Strawberry Fields was the public memorial for John Lennon, a peace sign with the word 'Imagine' designed into the pavement where people left flowers in his honor. They visited that spot every year on her father's birthday.
"Did he like it?" She opened the refrigerator to see what she could whip up for dinner.
"Oh yeah. He picked a weed from a nearby garden and put it on the mosaic. He called it a 'wishing flower' and I didn't have the heart to tell him what it really was," he chuckled, finding that his mother did as well. "We sat on the ground there for a little while and I told him about grandpa. We even sang a little bit."
"What song?"
"'All You Need is Love.' I was surprised. I thought he'd pick 'Here Comes the Sun.'"
"You two are really getting close, huh?" She pulled a frozen, vegan pizza out of the freezer and set the oven to preheat while it defrosted. It was a long, emotional day. Cooking something from scratch was not on her evening agenda.
"He's a good kid. Feels like I have a little brother. It's cool," he closed his textbook and moved onto another assignment.
The conversation ended there. She poured herself a glass of wine while the pizza cooked in the oven and Henry finished his homework. He packed his backpack and put it in his room when it was time to eat.
They didn't talk about what happened that morning, but she knew he would say what he needed to say when he was ready. Robin assured her of that and she trusted him. She was just happy they were able to be civil for the time being.
Regina put the leftover slices in the fridge in case Henry and Roland were hungry while they were on their date or if her son wanted to take it for lunch the next day. She started the dishes and wiped the countertop while Henry took a shower. She was on her second glass of wine when her phone chimed.
How's it going? Shall I declare World War III and prepare Roland for battle?
She smiled, imagining his little body army crawling around the apartment with a kitchen pot upon his head. Her smile grew when she added Robin and even Henry to her vision.
Stand down, soldier. We haven't talked about what happened, but we're keeping the peace. Seems we won't need the nuclear weapons after all.
She walked to her bedroom to unwind after her busy day. She removed her uncomfortable work attire and replaced them with soft, silk pajamas before her phone alerted her of another incoming message.
Bollocks! Perhaps next time. Oh, and tell Henry that Roland won't stop listening to The Beatles. I've Just Seen a Face has been on repeat for a bloody hour.
She hummed the tune as she responded by sending him the song lyrics: I've just seen a face I can't forget the time or place where we just met.
She was grinning when she realized he had amended the lyrics in his response (replacing every 'she' with the word 'you'): You're just the girl for me and I want all the world to see we've met. Falling, yes I am falling, and you keep calling me back again.
Regina continued to hum to herself as she sat at her vanity wiping her makeup off and moisturizing her skin. Ding! She looked down at her phone while it charged on the desktop.
I have to get this boy to bed. I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow night. Until then, sleep well Regina.
She felt herself falling for him so hard, so fast. Each moment with him or hearing from him or even just the thought of him dragged her down deeper into the feelings she was so hesitant to express.
I can't wait. Goodnight Robin.
She set the alarm on her phone and silenced the ringer while it continued to charge. She looked up into the mirror; her reflection was different. She was happy. It wasn't something new, just something she hadn't seen in a long time; like reuniting with an old friend.
"Do you know what you're going to wear?" Mallory asked from her seat on the opposite side of Regina's desk during their lunch break Friday afternoon. Of course she'd thought about it, but hadn't made a decision as of late.
"I was thinking about wearing that royal blue dress with the skinny black belt, but I'm still not sure. I'm torn between that and my black cocktail dress."
"Which one?" The blonde teased and Regina rolled her eyes. She always wore black and apparently people seemed to notice. It wasn't morbid or boring; she just enjoyed how the color looked on her. "Where's he taking you?"
"We have dinner reservations at Bella Notte at seven and then after that, I'm told, is a surprise," she took a bite of her salad after she spoke.
"Bella Notte? He's fancy," she raised an eyebrow, impressed with his restaurant of choice. "I say go with the blue. Spice it up a little."
Regina shrugged, mulling it over in her mind. Although she looked good in black, it might be a nice change for him to see she owned other colors. And the blue dress was especially sensational, hugging her curves in all the right places. She worried though that they'd end up skipping dinner and jumping straight into bed if she surprised him with something that sexy.
"You know," Mal chewed her food thoroughly before continuing her thought. "You never did tell me how his lecture was the other night."
"And I never will," the brunette smirked.
"Not even a single detail? What's the fun in that?"
"Oh trust me," Regina teased. "It was plenty fun for me."
"What do you lads think?" Robin asked, stretching his arms out and turning so the boys could get a good look at his outfit. He sported a light gray suit and white shirt, the top two buttons left open revealing a subtle glimpse at his chest, but not too much that he appeared inappropriate. His light brown hair was trimmed and slicked back, parting at the side ever-so-slightly from its natural wave. He shaved the edges of his beard to give it a clean, distinct shape. A white pocket square was folded neatly into the breast pocket of his gray blazer. The entire look was a refreshing change from his typical attire.
"You clean up nice," Henry said, impressed with the man's style.
"Yeah," Roland stated loudly in agreement.
"You think I look good enough that she'll reward me with a goodnight kiss?" He bent over, tickling and teasing his son.
"Yuck!" The little boy exclaimed through his giggles.
"Come on, dude. That's my mom," Henry lifted his shoulders and shook his head in disapproval. He liked Robin and his mom deserved to be happy. But the thought of her kissing anyone was an unpleasant image he wished to rid from his mind.
"Of course. My apologies," he bowed his head and placed his hand on his chest as a gesture of sincerity.
"You better get going if you don't want to miss your reservation," the teenager said. Robin nodded, taking his things from the counter and putting them in their designated pockets: wallet front right, keys front left, phone inside left breast of blazer. When he reached the front door, he stopped and turned at the sound of Henry clearing his throat, obviously wanting his attention. "Forgetting something?"
He was standing at the refrigerator with the door held open and Roland was reaching for the bouquet of flowers that were resting on the top shelf. He'd bought them for Regina on his way home from the university that afternoon and was afraid they might wilt if left on the counter for too long without water.
He'd done some research a few days prior on the meaning of certain flowers. He knew a dozen red roses would most likely win her over, but he wanted to be original. Their courtship was too special to him to settle on boring, typical roses.
He'd discovered that the sunflower was known to symbolize adoration, loyalty, and longevity; things he hoped they would have together. He bought a single sunflower surrounded by carnations of various spring colors: light orange, yellow, pink, white. The carnations meant fascination, distinction (things he believed were significant of his feelings for her) and love, which he knew was starting to blossom within his soul each moment that passed.
Robin shook his head and approached the boys, taking the floral arrangement from his son. Roland hugged him, hoping that would help his nerves, and Henry nudged the man's shoulder. "Relax, man. She'll have a great time."
"I'm not positive what time we'll be getting in, but I'll be sure to call," he said in return and the boy smirked. He was clever and not quite as naïve as Roland; he didn't expect Robin to be coming home that night.
"I packed an overnight bag. I told Roland we'd have a sleepover. So I'll be here whenever you decide to return," the tone of his voice carried all the implications necessary for Robin's face to rise in temperature. Henry didn't approve of the idea that his boss would be spending the night with his mother, but staying in Apartment 8 meant he wouldn't have to hear them while he was trying to sleep. It made ignoring the inevitable a lot easier for him.
Robin couldn't think of a response so he just turned on his heels and left the apartment. His nerves were at an all time high; he wanted to make a good impression. Sure, they'd gone for drinks together, but it was very informal and the atmosphere was less than romantic. This was his first opportunity to properly woo her, the way she deserved to be swept off her feet.
He lifted his trembling hand and knocked on the door of Apartment 13. He was anxious to see what she'd chosen to wear; Regina never failed to impress him. Her style was impeccable, but what he enjoyed the most about her was the confidence she exuded that made her wardrobe choices seem so effortless.
The door swung open and it took an exuberant amount of effort for him to remain standing, his heart beating so fast he thought it would break through his chest. She was stunning. Not that he didn't think she always was, but tonight she was exceptional. Breathtaking, he thought and meant it quite literally as he struggled to keep himself steady.
Regina stood under the archway of her apartment in the royal blue dress with the skinny belt, taking Mallory's advice by adding some color and 'spice' to her evening. The outfit was paired with black, stiletto pumps that buckled around her ankle; the height of them accentuating the muscles in her calves. Normally, she would wear a black blazer with it, but tonight she decided on a black wrap around her shoulders to shield her from the chill of spring at night. Her dark brown hair was blown out and rested beautifully just at the base of her neck, natural waves framing her face. She wore more makeup than usual, but it wasn't overdone; a basic foundation, brown contour lining her cheekbones, smoky eyes. She was a sucker for her red lipstick, but chose a dark brown for a more subtle, elegant look.
"Regina you look-" he paused, wanting to catch his breath while he drank in her beauty. What could he say to describe her in that moment? She was everything. He rephrased, "You are breathtaking."
"Thank you," she actually blushed. Not the way she did any of the times before when he complimented her. It reflected a natural innocence he never quite expected from her. She took him in, observing his choice of attire and finding him to be the definition of dashing. "You look wonderful. The gray is very dapper. It suits you."
She took a step forward to kiss his cheek when he revealed the bouquet of flowers that were hidden behind his back. She smiled at the sight of them. Not the usual choice for first date flowers, which she greatly appreciated, and quite colorful to say the least.
"For you," he said as she took them from his hands.
"They're beautiful, Robin. Thank you," she smiled, holding them to her nose and breathing in their scent. She closed her eyes and imagined herself lying in a field surrounded by nature, Robin at her side, her body and mind free and at ease. He leaned down just as she pulled the bouquet away from her face and surprised her in a gentle kiss. She smiled, her eyes still closed as she returned the kiss.
She stepped back into the kitchen to find a vase. Robin followed, closing the door behind him and watching her, admiring her every move. She took scissors from a drawer in the island and cut the plastic open. She cut the stems so they fit into the vase, resting evenly in the water that now filled it. She arranged them so the sunflower was in the center surrounded by the assortment of carnations. When she was done, she threw out the scraps and returned the scissors to their proper place before pushing the flowers forward to the middle of the counter.
Robin leaned across, taking her hand in his own and lifting it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, his own thumb tracing various patterns atop her wrist. She rested her elbows on the counter to lower herself against it, wanting a better look into those blue eyes she adored so much.
"You are positively radiant," he said, his voice soft and his breath against the top of her hand sent chills up the entire length of her arm. "But as much as I'd love to stand here admiring you all night, we don't want to be late."
Their hands parted, adjusting to the slight chill they felt from the sudden lack of contact. Regina walked to the side table next to the door and picked up her black clutch purse, opening it to make sure she had her cell phone and keys before leaving the apartment.
She locked the door behind them and it didn't take Robin long to grab hold of her hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked toward the elevator.
Roland peeked his head into the hallway of the third floor every few seconds, on lookout duty, while Henry put the finishing touches on what they called, 'Operation: Apology.'
"They're leaving!" The little boy tried his best to whisper, but his excitement got the best of him. He made a yucky noise when he added, "Ew! They're holding hands!"
"Shut the door before they see you," Henry whispered with a laugh, remembering when holding hands with girls was gross to him too. Roland did as he was told and ran to the teenager's side. "Thanks for all your help, kid."
"Sure!" The boy smiled, happy to be appreciated when his hair was ruffled affectionately. "She's gonna love it, Henry. I'm pretty sure moms get all mushy over stuff like this. And she's a mom so..."
He had to hand it to him, the kid's logic was pretty clever. His comment made him wonder what exactly happened to the his mother though. Robin never mentioned her and Roland seemed to be content with the idea that she wasn't around. He supposed the same could be said about him and Regina when it came to the topic of his father. So he let it go, figuring his little buddy would talk about it if he ever wanted to.
"Ready?" Henry asked, a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. Roland clamped his teeth together tight, nodding with excitement. "Operation: Apology is officially a go."
Robin and Regina sat across from one another at a table meant for two at Bella Notte, an elegant Italian restaurant located just outside Central Park. Their table was against the window which provided the perfect view of the trees glowing from the incandescent bulbs of nearby street lamps. Occasionally, a couple would pass by hand-in-hand or a small family rode along in a horse and carriage.
The meal was exquisite, to say the very least. A basket of freshly made focaccia bread rested, untouched between them; Robin couldn't have the gluten and Regina was not much of a bread eater, but by the looks of it, she imagined it tasted wonderful. They sipped their wine throughout the evening, exchanging glances at one another that spoke volumes more than if they expressed themselves with words.
They were each given a side salad with their choice of dressing; Regina, a raspberry vinaigrette, and Robin, the house Italian. They picked at it between sentences, making small talk and continuing to get to know one another. They laughed often, which seemed to be a lot simpler to do with each other than anyone else they'd ever encountered. At one point, he tried to impress her with some Spanish; he'd been brushing up since he learned she spoke the language.
Their main course arrived when they were each on their second glass of wine. Regina ordered the penne all a vodka topped with broccoli and grilled chicken, one of her favorite meals that she rarely had the pleasure to indulge in. She also ordered it knowing she would have plenty of leftovers for Henry when he complained that there was 'no food in the house.' There were only a few gluten-free options offered at Bella Notte. One, of which Robin ordered, was a Parmesan encrusted grilled chicken breast seasoned with Italian herbs, a side of garlic roasted asparagus, and bruschetta sprinkled atop the meal.
"Have you always had a gluten allergy?" She asked him, wondering if it was something Roland would develop as well, if he hadn't already.
"Oh no. I used to ask for extra gluten in all my meals during my Oxford days," he joked, the sound of her laugh melting his heart. "I suppose that's the woes of aging: making sacrifices for the sake of one's bowels."
Regina let out a single cackle, covering her mouth as she continued to laugh into her hands. She had never been on a date where the man across from her found a polite way to have bathroom talk. She shook her head, lifting her napkin to her mouth as she settled.
"So you can eat gluten, you just choose not to. For the sake of your bowels," she repeated his phrase, not sure of any other polite way to say it. He nodded and allowed the information he provided to sink in. "Well, normally the gluten-free meals look so bland, but that looks fantastic."
"Would you care for a taste?" He asked already cutting a piece of chicken for her, whether she accepted or declined his offer was obviously irrelevant. She didn't answer his question. Instead she waited for him to cut the top of the asparagus and push it onto his fork, accompanied by the poultry. He held the utensil up and she tilted forward, careful not to lean into her dish and dirty her dress as she closed her mouth around the fork. It wasn't meant to be sexual, but she immediately felt heat rising in her core. She slid her teeth along the metal as she sat back and chewed through the food-orgasm that was occurring in her mouth.
Robin was so grateful to be seated as he watched the way she moved. He couldn't help, but envision her doing that to him and before he could stop it, his arousal got the best of him. He placed his hands over his lap and took concentrated breaths to calm himself.
"Wow, that's not real," she chuckled, covering her mouth with her napkin when she realized she spoke with her mouth still full. If Henry were there he'd make sure to point it out. She swallowed the last of the food before adding, "I should have ordered that."
"Are you kidding? I can't remember the last time I ate pasta. I'm salivating just at the sight of your dish," he laughed and sipped his wine.
"One bite won't kill you," Regina said, hooking two noodles onto her fork with a cube of chicken. They recreated their previous encounter in reversed roles. She smiled when he closed his eyes, lost in the flavors spreading along his tongue. He was silent as he chewed and swallowed, opening his eyes only when the bite became something of the past rather than the present.
"You have no idea how incredible that felt," he said with a shake of his head. "That might very well be my death row meal."
"I'm sorry, your what?" Regina raised her eyebrow in confusion. He sat up realizing he'd have to explain the statement to her.
"No one has ever asked you what you'd choose to eat as your last meal if you were on death row?" He asked and she shook her head in response. "It's interesting to consider. I used to say fish and chips from a mum and pop eatery in Essex, but recently I've been torn between some new ones."
"What are they?"
"That penne vodka for one," he said, still amazed at how perfectly creamy the sauce was. "The other is your homemade lasagna. I've never tasted anything quite like it."
"Out of everything in the world to choose from, you'd even consider my lasagna?" She laughed, but felt exceptionally proud of herself.
"Oh absolutely," he responded without hesitation. "What would your death penalty meal be?"
"It can be anything?" She asked, seeking reassurance when something came to mind.
"Anything your heart desires," he reiterated.
"An entire Death by Chocolate cake," her eyes lit up at the thought of layers upon layers of rich, creamy chocolate. "With vanilla ice cream."
"Your last meal would be a dessert?" He was shocked. Regina was cultured and sophisticated; she clearly had extensive knowledge about food and he imagined she read the cooking section of the New York Times. There was no way she was opting out of actual food and choosing processed sugar and cocoa powder.
"Not just any dessert, Robin. Death. By. Chocolate," she enunciated each word of her chocolatey choice. "I have only had it one time in my entire life and that was on my 22nd birthday when I was pregnant with Henry. I want the entire cake to myself next time."
"And the vanilla ice cream?"
"The cake is rich. I need something to wash it down," she stated as if that was obvious. Robin laughed and reached forward for her hands, kissing each one gently. He was falling for her. Hard.
"I think it's time I show you that surprise," he said and lifted his arm to grab the attention of their waitress so he could pay the bill.
The couple walked along the path in Central Park, his arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm while hers rested around his waist to help keep up with his pace. She had no idea what he had planned and the anticipation was driving her mad, but she trusted him and knew it wouldn't be anything short of perfect.
Her heart beat in an irregular pattern when she spotted it coming into view up ahead. She was sure this was where he was leading her.
Turn left, right. Anywhere, but here.
"I know you mentioned you favored this one and since you haven't been back for a few years, I thought I'd help you remember why it was so precious to you to begin with," he said as they neared the venue.
I remember exactly why it was so precious to me. As a matter of fact, I've spent many years trying to forget.
Robin held the door open for her as she entered, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. The sight of the large sign in the grand foyer hit her hard; like a ton of bricks landing on her, weighing her down.
Welcome to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Regina managed to calm herself down as she observed the artwork along the walls. The setup was extremely different from the last time she'd been in the museum so it almost felt like another venue entirely. That was comforting.
Robin stayed close, asking questions and volunteering various perspectives on pieces that stood out to him. She did the same, with the addition of little tid bits of information on the ones she was more familiar with. He held her hand or wrapped his arm around her waist as they ventured deeper into the gallery; anything to feel her close to him and she was all too willing to oblige.
With the dread of being back inside the walls of the Met disappearing, it was replaced with a sense of contentment. She needed this. She needed a chance to let go and he was, although completely unaware, providing that for her.
His attention was being called to an Impressionist sculpture on the opposite side of the room. She smiled as she watched him approach it with the same innocent curiosity she was sure Roland showed about everything. She continued walking along the wall when a familiar piece invaded her peripheral vision.
She stood before it in complete shock; that sense of dread returning and taking full control of her body. Her hands trembled as she lifted them to her mouth to silence the sob she felt in her chest. She jumped, startled, when Robin snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. He pressed his chest into her back and rested his head on her shoulder. He turned to smile at her until he realized she was trembling, her eyes wide as she stared blankly at the piece in front of her.
Robin turned his head to look at the canvas, feeling his heart drop to his stomach upon reading the title card: Modern Fairytale by Daniel Trotter.