A/N: As I write this, it's 4pm on a Wednesday afternoon and I'm coming up to 30 hours of work already this week. I'm not complaining, I love my job. However, as I was asking my boss permission for the evening off to write for you lovely people, I checked my inbox to see five reviews from the same person, each one heavily criticising this story. As I've said before, you're all entitled to your opinions. But I work really hard and put a lot of time and effort into my writing. If you're not enjoying it, please feel free to leave. However, please don't announce it to me before you do so, or worse yet, nit pick details which annoy you and continue to read. It's really demoralising. My works aren't for everyone and that's not a problem. 99% of you are wonderful and respectful and make me smile every time I check my emails. Right now, however, smiling isn't coming easily. Anyway, I'll use the last of my energy to write this chapter because I want to deliver and I hope at least some of you are still reading after the revelation that Mal is Regina's ex...

It was rude to not reply, Regina decided. And yet she didn't want to share quite how confronting the session had been. She was still feeling raw, vulnerable. So she settled for neutral.

It was a good first meeting. I'm confident this doctor will be able to help Henry. Thank you for your support. Regina.

With her cell connected to the car sound system and her driving playlist selected, Regina pulled away from the curb outside Doctor Hopper's office and headed towards Henry's child minder's. Her appointment had run a little longer than expected and she was already late. But Ursula was used to it and assured Regina it was no trouble as Henry packed up his toys and got ready to leave.

By the time they were home, it was already dinner time. Looking in the fridge, Regina realised she needed to go shopping but set about making some pasta for Henry, half a capsicum being added to the tomato sauce.

"Do you want a drink, my little prince?" she asked as she sat her son down to do some colouring while she cooked. She encouraged him to be in the kitchen when she cooked to try and engage him with the food preparation process. Plus, the last time she had left him unattended in the living room, her mother's antique vase had been broken. Henry claimed no knowledge of the incident.

"Apple juice please," he replied.

Regina got him his request at once, flicking on the kettle as she did so in preparation for a peppermint tea for herself. As their dinner cooked, Henry chattered away about his day. Just before Regina served up, she glanced at her cell. Nothing from Emma. She noticed, with a hint of surprise, that she was disappointed. Shaking the thought from her mind, because her life really was complicated enough already, she dished out the meal and placed Henry's plate in front of him.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing immediately to a piece of capsicum.

"That's what you had last week at the restaurant and on Friday night, remember?" Regina said, her patience already wearing thin. She knew it wasn't Henry's fault; she'd had a long day. But it was hard sometimes to go over the same conversations. "It's called capsicum. It's a sweet vegetable."

"I don't like capsicum," Henry said, arms folded.

Regina sighed and rubbed her forehead. She could feel the ache of a migraine coming on. "Honey, you do. You ate it twice last week."

"I don't like it. I won't eat it."

"Fine, pick it out," Regina said. She was too tired to argue.

She tried not to pay attention as her son went through his entire dish, diligently picking out the vegetable pieces. By the time he decided that his plate was acceptable, Regina was finished and she was sure his food was stone cold. That didn't seem to bother him, however, and he began to spear, one by one, pieces onto his fork.

Tuesdays were never busy at Hook, Line And Sinkerbut three of Emma's kitchen staff had called in sick. She found herself working side by side with August for the majority of the day as the team had to work to complete some basic prep work for the week ahead as well. By the time service ended, she was eager to get home.

"How was your day off?" she asked her sous chef as they finished up the orders for the following day, the rest of their team having been dismissed.

"Quiet," August replied.

"How's your dad?"

"Sick."

Emma patted her friend's shoulder sympathetically. She admired August for taking care of his ailing father and knew he would be devastated when the time came to say goodbye. Marco had been a big influence of his son's life and shaped the man he had become. Emma wished she had had someone to do that for her. Emma's discovery of her love for cooking saved her from the downward spiral her life was becoming. But it had been luck, not the gentle guidance of a parent. Unlike August, Emma hadn't had someone to keep her on the right path. Somehow, however, she had stumbled onto it after several years wavering on the edge.

"How was your day off?"

"Good. Ruby and I went up to the lakes on the bike. It was nice to get away from the city for a while."

"No hot date with this brunette sex goddess she told me about."

Emma glowered. "Whatever Ruby's told you is bullshit."

August laughed. "She told me you ran into the sexiest woman in the world, aside from Belle, on Saturday night but that you think she's straight even though she was eye-fucking you the whole time."

Crass though it was, Emma had no doubt that was the exact language her best friend had used. She had also forgotten how much of a gossip Ruby was. Usually it didn't bother her but for some reason, when it came to Regina, she felt a stab of annoyance.

"Yeah, well, nothing happened," Emma said, stuffing the last of the order forms into their files, picking up her cell phone from her desk and grabbing her bag.

"But you like her?" August asked, chef whites already slung in a bag and his jacket over his shoulder. He was always eager to get home to check on his father.

"It doesn't matter if I like her. She's straight," Emma said.

"Emma, you know your gaydar is broken, right?"

The blonde didn't reply. It was true; she wasn't great at judging the sexuality of others. She liked to think it was because as far as she was concerned, there were more important facets which made up a person. Her obtuseness, however, did leave her at a severe disadvantage at times. Was this one of them?

"Whatever, she's not into me, ok? And anyway, she's way out of my league."

"Well, that may be true. Ruby did say this woman was sex on legs."

Emma punched him in the arm but August just laughed. "I'm kidding. You know you're gorgeous too, right?"

"Stop hitting on your lesbian boss, that's an order," Emma teased.

"Ok, ok, see you tomorrow, Chef," August said as they reached their bikes.

If asked, Emma would deny that she hired August partly because he was a fellow rider. He was an excellent chef who had excelled at the practical interview. But she couldn't deny it was fun to talk about bikes as they worked.

"Are you ever going to upgrade that thing?" Emma asked as August struggled to kick start his old Harley Davidson.

"Never," he grunted as his heavy boot thumped against the metal, the engine stubbornly refusing to turn over.

Helmet in place, Emma straddled her own bike, lifted the stand, turned the key and pointedly started the bike with the touch of a button. August shot her a filthy look. She just laughed and tapped the machine into first, preparing to drive away.

"See you tomorrow," she called before sliding her visor shut and accelerating out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

"Show off," August muttered as the powerful bike zoomed away from him just as his own spluttered back to life.

It wasn't until Emma got home that she finally checked her cell and saw the message from Regina. She tapped out a reply as she rode the way up to her apartment in the elevator, sending it just as she stepped through the doorway. For some reason, the revelation that she was coming home to an empty space hit Emma a little harder that evening. Ruby often stayed at Belle's but as she curled up on the couch, cell balanced on her knee, with a bowl of fruit salad she had made that morning, sprinkled with granola, she realised she wanted company. More to the point, she missed company. She pressed the home button on her cell, illuminating the screen to see if she had missed a message from Regina. She hadn't. Sighing, she turned the tv on and set about trying to find a program she could watch without 'Netflix-cheating' on Ruby.

The nightmare evening started soon after Henry had gone to sleep. A phone call from the head of her PPC marketing team had called her in a panic, trying to explain in technical language Regina didn't fully understand that something had gone wrong with one of their large clients. Logging into the account on her end, it didn't require Regina to have a Masters in code writing for her to see that the script which was supposed to be controlling the bidding had gone awry.

Pausing all the active campaigns on the account, Regina set to work. She had ended up on a conference call with one of their technical team as well as the account manager and the head of the PPC team. It had taken them over two hours for them to identify the problem and fix it. The cause, however, remained a mystery but the technician assured her she'd have answers by the morning. She and the account manager calculated the issue to have cost the client only a few hundred in wasted expenditure. Regina instructed the frazzled woman to wait until the morning to speak to the client and to direct any complaints to her at once.

By the time the ordeal was sorted out, Regina was buzzing and exhausted in equal measure. Too hyped up to sleep, even though it was close to eleven, she made her way to the couch. Settling down with a glass of well deserved wine, she shut off her work phone for the evening and picked up her personal cell. It was then that she finally saw the reply from Emma, sent an hour earlier. A grin spread over her face as she read it.

Sorry for the late reply. I don't have my cell on me while I work. I've already lost one to the fate of soapy water. I'm glad to hear the meeting went well. Do you want to talk about it? Emma

Did she want to talk about it? Frankly, Regina had done enough talking for one day but the idea of having someone, of having Emma, to confide in after these meetings with Doctor Hopper was a welcome one. She hadn't even considered whether she would tell Kathryn or Zelena about Henry's appointments with a child psychologist. As far as she was concerned, telling them wasn't an option. They both cared for Henry. In fact, they loved him very much. But from what had been said today, Regina predicted that much of the work the little family had to do was going to stem from what happened with Mal. She didn't think she could deal with the two women she was closest to finding out what was causing Henry's eating troubles.

But what about when Emma found out? It wasn't like she relished the idea of the blonde discovering that Regina was the reason her son was sick. While she had no definitive answers for why her wife left, Regina couldn't help but feel it had a lot to do with her. In the weeks that followed the disappearance, she had unpacked every tiny detail of her marriage. It hadn't been perfect, that she knew, but was she really so unlovable that the woman couldn't even stay for Henry? That was what her anger, and the anger of Kat and Zelena had focused on; the abandonment. It seemed they were all so busy being angry on Henry's behalf that all three had neglected to notice the impact her departure had on the small boy.

Which, Regina decided, made it all her fault. She wasn't attentive enough; she was too self absorbed. It was her fault. She knew Doctor Hopper had said she wasn't to blame but she couldn't help it. Henry's eating disorder was her fault.

I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it just yet but thank you for the offer. Take good care of your cell – try not to drop it in any water sources. Regina

The opening credits of the movie she had found to watch had barely ended when her cell vibrated.

You're welcome. I'm more than happy to talk if and when you're ready. Know that you're not alone and know that none of this is your fault. Emma.

Fault. How had she known? Did that mean Emma suspected that Henry's eating disorder stemmed from something she had done? Which meant, by definition, it was her fault. She groaned and threw the cell to the far end of the couch where it bounced happily on a cushion. Before she had turned back to the screen however, it lit up once more. Unable to stop herself, she reached for it.

And don't take that last message the wrong way. I just know how therapists work and they always want to find a root cause. Just because something triggered him, doesn't mean you're to blame. Emma.

Ok, did the woman have psychic abilities? It was possible. The woman seemed to have some kind of mystical power which enabled her to get the truth out of Regina. The past few days had been so hectic, the older woman hadn't had the time to consider the possible reasons why Emma had managed to burst so spectacularly into her life.

Regina didn't think she would describe herself as heartbroken any more. The pain in the aftermath of Mal's disappearance had been unimaginable but it had morphed into anger soon afterwards. Anger at the woman who had left her and their son. A month of barely leaving her bedroom, of wallowing and crying and eating, and then Regina snapped out of it, forcing herself to put Henry first. Now, of course, she could see that perhaps one month was too long and that she had neglected him. But the point was, emotionally, she had moved on. Regina no longer thought of Mal every day, pined for her ex wife every hour, missed her other half every minute. If the woman was to turn up on her doorstep, she wouldn't take her back. In fact, she may punch her in the face.

It had been over two years since Mal left and during those years, Regina hadn't even considered dating again. It wasn't that she didn't feel ready. It was more that she hadn't met anyone who had interested her. Had that changed?

The fact that Emma Swan intrigued her was undeniable. But was she sexually attracted to her? As the question popped into Regina's head she let out an audible laugh. That was ridiculous; of course she was. Emma was beautiful. And, she realised, exactly her type. Blonde, tall, confident, independent, career-driven. Let's not forget those green eyes, her brain supplied helpfully.

Ok, she's gorgeous, Regina admitted to herself. And gay. That much had been apparent to her since the first time she had met Emma. The blonde's gaze had lingered on her breasts for far too long. Her behaviour in Regina's office the following day confirmed her suspicions. The way the blonde had been rendered temporarily speechless in the bar on Saturday night had been the final nail in the coffin. There was no doubting Emma's attraction to Regina.

But that didn't mean Regina wanted to date her. Did it? Could it? Could she?

Two realisations dawned on the brunette at the same time. First, yes, she did want to take Emma Swan out on a date. Second, Emma Swan was the only person in her life who understood what was going on in her life and, as such, was off limits. If she was to ask Emma out, if they were to date, to get together and then if it were to all fall apart, she'd lose the one person she could openly and honestly talk to about what was happening with Henry. No, she couldn't do it. It was too much of a risk.

But what if it didn't all fall apart?

It was well after midnight when Emma finally went to bed. She checked her cell phone again, even though she knew she wasn't getting a reply. She had overstepped. She had said too much. She had pushed too far and now Regina had shut down. Cursing herself under her breath, Emma slammed her cell back onto the nightstand and reached for the light, plunging herself into darkness. She knew she wouldn't sleep but it was better to try than the mope.

Only a few miles away, lying in the middle of her queen-sized bed, Regina stared at the ceiling, fingers twisting together on top of the sheets. The digits needed to be kept busy, they needed to do something, they needed to do anything else other than send a text to the woman who wouldn't leave her mind.

Soon after three in the morning, she caved, her willpower overwhelmed by a tingling of desire and excitement she hadn't felt in a very long time.

The buzzing of metal against wood woke Emma up. Her sleep had been restless, distracted. On autopilot, she reached for her cell and read the message.

Maybe I would feel better if I talked about the session. Would you like to meet me for lunch tomorrow? Regina

A smile spread slowly across her face before she snuggled herself further into the pillow and began to type.

Of course. But would you be able to come to me? As a chef, lunch is kind of when I work … But if you come to the restaurant, I can take a break and offer you a free meal. Emma

Emma was just dropping off when Regina's reply lit up her cell screen.

Deal, but no freebies. I don't want you thinking I'm a cheap date. I'll be there at about 12:30. R

A/N: So ... is anyone still with me?