The Curse of the Christmas Swap Chapter 9, an once upon a time fanfic

Chapter Nine - Regina

I never thought a woman putting clothes on me could feel so intimate. Emma's touch is gentle as she pulls her hat down into place. I'm surprised by the gesture, but it doesn't seem to startle me. It isn't unwelcome. In fact, it is very comforting. I have to resist the urge to lean in to it, to rest my head against her hand. I am sure she lingers for just a moment before pulling her arm away again.

"Thank you."

She doesn't reply. I appreciate it. I like that she hasn't rushed in with pointless platitudes about my dad being in a better place now or her suffering is over. I am grateful that she hasn't claimed to know exactly how I feel. It's nice just having her besides me. She's enjoying the pastry balls and spun sugar and salted caramel cake that I won't be having this year. I took a small piece of bite and it's rich, like creating explosion of flavor in my mouth. She goes in for more and more and more. Emma polished off all the pastry and turns to tarts. Emma's mouth was already too full to answer with words that she loves it. We both laugh together. Emma is cradling her stomach like she's heavily pregnant.

We make our way back to the car slowly, chattering idly about nothing in particular. I'm drowsy after my feast. If not for the cold wind hitting my cheeks and keeping me awake, I'm sure I'll curl right up on the pavement for a quick nap, but I refuse to touch the dirty pavement though. My entire world is just Emma and the after-effects of our lovely afternoon together. I'm so very glad that I didn't use any of my excuses to get out of this.

We reach the car and swing our tote bags off our shoulders, placing our stash of wine and unopened cheese in the boot. As I slip into the front seat, I pull her hat off of my head and my phone out of my coat pocket. I haven't checked my phone since leaving the manor, so I've got a few notifications waiting for me. I kick back and lick on the top one.

My heart stops.

With a slightly shaking head, I click away from the text then back on it, just to check I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing.

I am.

Dianella has texted me.

I stare at the screen, unblinking. There at the top is her name, still littered with the heart emojis I never got round to deleting. Then two simple words:

'Hey you.'

So casual, like we just spoken yesterday. So plain and simple, and yet those two words have bought a sharp pin to the dreamlike bubble of my day. My air of carefree bliss evaporates, and my mind fills up with frantic messy thoughts. Why is Dianella texting me now. Is she okay? Is she safe? I can't help wondering: does she miss me? Does she still love me? Does she know that my feelings didn't simply vanish when she did?

My head is spinning. I don't look up as Emma got into the car. I have enough sense left angle my phone screen away from her.

I kept staring at the text. I think I feel relieved. I've been wanting to hear from Dianella for ages. I've spent two weeks after our break-up calling and texting her constantly, and then I decided to get some self-respect, and so spent the next two weeks sitting around all day waiting for her to contact me. And now she has. Of course, I feel relieved.

But I'm annoyed as well, angry even. The feeling is too hot and prickly to ignore. I had just been getting used to the idea that I may hear from Dianella again. I had stopped pining for a few hours and got on with enjoying my day, disappearing into the joys of good food and great conversation. And now she decides to reappear. I resent that. Dianella's text is an invasion; it has bolted out of the blue to ruin my perfect day.

Guilt floods in and overwhelms me. I have technically known Dianella for my entire adult life and my former high school sweetheart. How can I begrudge her sending me a quick text? All because I'd rather carry on chatting with Emma. Dianella would despise that. Now that she texted me and returned to the forefront of my mind, it's like seeing things from her perspective. Me laughing with Emma becomes outrageous display of flirting. Letting her pull her hat down becomes a major crossed line. And the fact I've noticed her looks … well that isn't an understandable casual attraction anymore. It is evidence of the "wandering eye" that Taylor always accused me of having, even though I never so much as considered straying from her in all the time we were together. Somewhere deep down I know that my ex-girlfriend's opinion about me getting to know Emma as a friend shouldn't matter, especially since Dianella is the one who left me, but I can't help but care about her feelings. That instinct hasn't gone away yet.

"What shall we listen to?" Emma asks brightly.

I don't look up. I am too focused on this two-word text and the myriad of feelings it has bought up in me. It's always like this with Dianella. She gets me all tangled up in a web of messy contradictory emotions. They are all-consuming. A bit too all consuming for me to think about music right now.

"My radio works sometimes," Emma explains. "You just have to give it a proper thump, and even, then it's touch-and-go. That's why I said it was broken earlier, but I have a good feeling that it's going to treat us well on the drive home. So, choose any music you like." She turns her keys in the ignition. "As long as I like it too," I hear her chuckling.

I force a small laugh, then shrug. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shrug back, it's a big movement that she does with a silly smile on her face. Earlier, I'd hoped for this kind of casual fun atmosphere between us, but now I can't enjoy it. My head is swimming and I need time to think. "I'm really tired," I say. "I'm going to rest my eyes until we get back to the house. You listen to whatever you want."

My words come out clipped. Now silence fills the car, broken up only by the faint hum of the engine. Despite the awkwardness, I just keep staring down into my lap. I double-check that my phone screen is still angled away from Emma, then I reread Dianella's text several more times, needing to ensure I am adequately analyzing all two words she's written. Eventually, I lock the phone and put it back in my pocket. I will reply to her later when I'm alone.

Finally, I glance up. My eyes meet Emma's. Her smile isn't as bright now, and her forehead is starting to crease slightly. Suddenly, I want to forget it all and flick through all the radio stations with her until we find something good; to take us back to the hazy contentment we'd been basking in just a few minutes ago. I imagine Dianella's perspective again, seeing me seek happiness with this beautiful blonde woman, and the guilt comes back with a vengeance. It is not a logical thought process, but this is exactly why I cannot interact with Emma right now. I am all over the place. I am not myself or I am too much myself to handle.

I turn away from her and close my eyes. There is a long beat of silence then the radio comes on and I hear the gear stick clicking and we're moving.

I do my best to look relaxed, letting my head loll to the side like I'm about to enjoy a post-food nap. I'm definitely stuffed enough to warrant one, but I know I won't really be able to sleep here.

My brain feels like it's tied in a knot. I wish I had someone to help me untangle it. Frustratingly, I believe Emma would be good at that. I know she'd listen to me without judgement, just like she did when I spoke about dad, and she'd probably stop the car and grab me some more cheese to eat once I was done. It's just that telling Emma what's on my mind would require telling her that I am not really dating her son, and that I like women, and then she might recognize my initial awkwardness around her for what it was, and I'd become all awkward all over again, and … Yeah, it's a no. discussing all this with Emma would only lead to further complications.

What I need is a friend. Someone who isn't tied up in my messiness, who I can tell the whole story to without having to edit out any details. Someone will insist I treat to an entire ice cream to soothe my sorrows.

There is no one.

I miss my friends. I miss them. I miss having someone to talk to about my problems with who isn't just the voice in my head. More than that, I miss having someone to laugh with and muck with and generally chat absolute unfettered nonsense with.

The only silver lining is that we must be getting close to the house now. I take a quick peek and, sure enough, there's the manor up ahead.

This means I can lie down soon. Goodness knows I need it. This nap I've taken in the ear, in which I've squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be dozing so that I can overindulge in overthinking, has not done much to relax me. I need a proper rest, with the curtains drawn and the blankets bundled on top of me. That will sort me out. My game plan for the next hour is clear: say a quick thank you to Emma for the nice evening out; say a quick hello to Henry; go straight to bed. I will sleep all this confusion off and then I will wake up with a clear head, no longer feeling sick or emotionally knotted. All I need is some alone time.

"Mom! Regina!"

As the car comes to a jolting halt, I see Henry running across the driveway. He reaches the car and stops just short of launching himself through the window.

"Fun news," he says breathlessly and excited. "Everyone got home early. I texted you both about it, but maybe you didn't see. They are all inside. The grandparents are here, little Henry, Mr. & Mrs. Gold, Killian Jones, Ruby & Dominic (her boyfriend), and Widow Lucas (Granny). "Come on! They are all waiting in the hall with tea and cake. Regina, they can't wait to meet you!"