Chapter One - Regina

Monday, December

So, you and I have been together for five months," I say to the young man I met a few days ago.

"No," Henry says lightly, his hazel eyes fixed on the winding, icy road ahead. "Six months."

"I don't think so," I glance up at the gray snow pelting down onto Henry's car's ironically horrible yellow beetle. "Six months is too round. When concocting a lie, you want to avoid box-fresh perfection."

"Hmmm. Seeing that my girlfriend is such a well-practiced lair is good."

"Fake girlfriend," I corrected him; he's more like a son to me.

"Yeah, yeah," Henry mutters, lifting a hand from the steering wheel and waving me away as if this is technically nothing more than a minor. "We'll circle back to our anniversary later then. Remind me your name?"

I whip around to face him. Is he stupid?

"I know that it's Regina Mills," he says with a little laugh, both hands back on the wheels. "But is there anything else? Nicknames? Middle names? Isn't it Regina French? Are you French?"

Ah, of course, Henry remembers my name. He first came across me through my online business, Regina Mills Digital. He'd have to be more than a bit slow to forget the name I've plastered all over my social media and my name on neon signs throughout Storybrooke.

"Non, I'm not French," I say. "I was named for my mother believed I'd be rich and famous one day. I do not have any nicknames. And as for my middle name, I do not have one."

"R.M."

"Mmmm, indeed. And there is more to Henry than … Henry?"

"Not at all," he says with an easy smile and joked, "Just Henry Swan. It's not even short for Haimirich."

"Fantastic," I say. I could do anything about just Henry Swan being as straightforward and honest as his name if I have any hope of putting on a convincing performance as his life partner over the next week or so. God, it does sound insane when put so plainly. Yeah, I'll be spending my Christmas with this near perfect stranger, swindling his doting parents and grandparents into believing that I'm his lovely new girlfriend.

I can't help it – I sigh. This Christmas was supposed to be the most magical in all my thirty-two years of life. Daniella and I were going to be spending it in the Bahamas, completely ignoring the significance of the season as we sipped on rum punch by the poor. Unfortunately, that plan fell apart. Everything fell apart. Our tiny flat was stripped of Daniella's stuff, the trip was called off, and my share of the refund was sent to my account without a word. In the span of one drizzle November afternoon Christmas was canceled.

And then there was Henry, Henry who rescued me and who I've been talking to for weeks already when he was hired to work with me on several major projects. Henry could never grasp what I meant by CEO, SEO or PPC, but he's always telling me that we did great job and tried to have me being part of the team. He didn't think I miss out the fun on account of being his boss, but I don't think he realizes I am actually his boss, or he simply ignores it altogether on account for the holidays.

To be completely honesty, my idea of fund isn't spending a Thursday evening with someone else, but I didn't want to be rude, so I turned up to a party alone and ordered a glass of red wine at the open bar. Henry sat next to me with huge grin on his face and a paper crown from a Christmas cracker on his head. He introduced me to other employees and their spouses as the Heart of the Hero struck by my side all evening as we mingled with the obnoxiously happy couples. He skipped past work talk to chat with me about our shared love of wine and history and he ensured that I have constant supply of red wine on my hand.

His face fell when I said I'd be spending Christmas alone this year.

I hadn't seen what the big deal was. Why would I want to spend time with Cora, and her latest boy toy for the day, especially I have no siblings to share the pain with? Why would I accept pity invite from some friend who'd just send me between to buffer or a family who just awful as this yellow beetle car, the death trap.

Henry had all but choked on his coke when I'd said that. He then made an insane offer to have me round for Christmas.

"It is not a pity invite," he'd hastened to add. "I'd really love it if you'd spend the holidays with me-my family-for a week-at our manor house!" He raised his voice louder over the music. "All you'd have to do is pretend to be my girlfriend!"

It felt like it was my turn to choke on the wine then. Or, better yet, to back away slowly from the maniac I'd only just met in person officially introduced and got to know him more for the first time that night. Instead, Henry was the one to take several steps backwards.

"I am sorry," he said, "I am coming on too strong. As soon as the words left my mouth. I heard how crazy they sounded. The idea just came to me suddenly and I got all excited because I don't want you to be left on your own for Christmas. And I don't want to be … by my family. I am thinking of myself, really. I am asking you for a favor, because I am kind of only single in my family. Everyone else is coupled up. Even our aunt has bagged herself a mystery man. Year after year, I am only Swan who turns up for the holidays alone. So, I thought that if you were going to be alone too, maybe we could be together instead? As a friend, of course, but pretend to be my girlfriend. That way my family could stop bombarding me with the questions why I am still single, and you'd have a clear reason for being there. It's a really nice place, Regina. My family is huge on Christmas holidays and my grandma is Mayor of Storybrooke. We'd sleep in separate beds, so there wouldn't be any funny business. It would just be a nice holiday, and we could drink loads of wine and hang out with my family and have a good time. That's all I want, because everyone deserve a lovely Christmas, because it's most wonderful time of the year, because people come together from far and wide, because we all - we all -."

"Henry," I interrupted, "Breathe," I tried hard to stop myself from laughing at his rambling like he's the biggest nerd on the planet trying to convince me to go with him. He stopped suddenly and we stared at each other. We both fell about laughing, I don't know why, but I felt I could trust him as if he's my own son.

'I promise I'm not as mad as I sound right now," he said, composing himself and straighten himself up like a prince. "I am not an axe murderer or anything. I am huge on adventure, though. I just think this could work out nicely for both of us."

I search his face, which was as innocent as a little boy's, and I glanced down at his arms and his built, which is skinny and could not wielded an axe but strong enough to wield a sword if possible. An image shot through my mind: seeing myself sitting all alone in my empty flat on Christmas Day, with only the ghost of Dianella's things to keep me company.

"Our house has wine cellar and a spa …" Henry added.

I packed my bags the next day with my dismay and surprise that I am willing to go with him, but in that god awful death trap of a yellow beetle, seriously. Now here I am, on Monday afternoon, four days after the office Christmas party, being driven by a young man to a stranger's mansion while hearing his stories of his family.

His grandparents, David and Mary Margaret Nolan, with their daughter, Emma Swan and his mother as well. I didn't expect that Emma as adopted into the family at young age. Mary Margaret became a Mayor of Storybrooke long time ago, makes me wonder when did my mother arrive at the same town as Mary Margaret. Ruby is Aunt Ruby, a traveler and famous blogger, but she's actually Mary Margaret's old friend because Ruby's mother and grandmother passed away few years ago. During driving, learned a lot about his family.

However, if you are expecting a cheesy story that Henry and I are meant to fall in love for real, finally a snogging on Christmas morning under mistletoe, or something equally gag-inducing then this isn't the story for you. You're sadly mistaken. There is absolutely zero chance of any of that happening. As attractive as Henry, with his floppy dark hair and clear complexion, and that strong jaw that I can see contracting as he focuses on driving, he is not my type. I am old enough to be his mother and he's young enough to be my son. I am more of blondes for one and I prefer longer hair then again Dianella had none of these and I was totally lovesick for her.

The real issue with Henry is that he is he.

So no, there is no threat of real romance blossoming this Christmas. Henry knows that I am a lesbian, and I know that he's a harmless nerd. The whole thing is very simple. I will just have a nice little holiday and then I'll be on my merry way. Nothing complicated whatsoever.