Mary Margaret readjusted the strap on her teal dress and ran a quick hand through her thick black hair as she waited on Emma to weave her way through the crowd with the two drinks she was holding. She smiled sympathetically as some guy cut the talent scout off and nearly toppled her to send the drinks flying. Except from a few errant splashes of cranberry and vodka, the drinks and Emma were both intact.

"I say we wait for Ruby next time," Emma said above the thrumming music. "She at least has experience as a waitress."

"Speaking of…where is she? No offense, but this was supposed to be more than me and you. You don't think I've offended her with all the wedding talk? I didn't mean to do it. I just get so excited with all the planning. I want everything to…"

"Be perfect," Emma repeated in unison with her friend. "We know. And don't worry. She'll be here." Ruby was never on time for these things, but each week Mary Margaret panicked as though she might be missing in action. It never ceased to amuse Emma, who was usually stuck talking the teacher down from the ledge on these nights. "Anyway, you know that Ruby will try to talk you into something you don't want. Why are you in such a hurry to see her?"

"True. Our girls' nights out are different now, aren't they? You're dating Killian. I'm engaged. Ruby is trying her best at her own version of monogamy. Do you think we've sort of lost the point of them?"

"I don't think so. We can still drink, dance, and laugh. Plus there's all the gossiping and life advice to be given. The only thing we're really giving up is trying to find some guy to buy us drinks and maybe take home at the end of the night. Since you never did that and I only rarely did, I'm not seeing a big change here." Moving the toothpick lanced garnish around her drink, Emma took another sip, finally noting the smile on of superiority that was evident on her friend's face. "What?"

"Congratulations!" the teach sang out, throwing her arms wide as if she wanted to hug her. "You didn't deny it!"

Emma glanced at the martini glass from which her friend had been sipping. Not much of the pink liquid was missing, eliminating the case for an overdose of alcohol. Staring into the bright eyes of the teacher, she saw no signs of drug abuse. There was no history of mental illness, so far as Emma knew. "Okay what are you talking about? Because you're starting to scare me. I've got my phone here and I'm about to call 911."

Exasperated, Mary Margaret reached out and clasped her hands over Emma's forearms. "The old you would have denied that you're in a relationship with Killian. You didn't. You didn't even hesitate. It was beautiful." Lifting her hands back to her face in a prayerful pose over her mouth and nose, the woman looked as though she was fighting back tears. "I'm so proud of you."

"And 911 is still a possibility," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "Seriously. We've been dating for a while. I thought the novelty had worn off."

Waving her hands in front of her face, Mary Margaret shook her head. "It's not the dating. It's that you're happy enough that you're not denying it. I'm so happy for you. Congratulations!"

Emma was about to answer her friend when Ruby swooped in, grabbed the blonde's left hand and appraised the bare ring finger with certain scrutiny. "Do I even want to know what she's congratulating you over? Because I come in here and this one's crying and you look positively sick to your stomach. I know Granny is very good at all this, but please don't rush things. I don't need another friend crossing over and leaving me here alone in dating hell."

Stifling a laugh, Emma snatched her hand back and put her friends straight. "Nobody is even talking about that step," she said with a little shudder to illustrate how far off that move would be. "The nun…I mean teacher here…is just congratulating me for not swimming in the river of denial any more. I didn't panic when she brought up my dating Killian."

Ruby's brow furrowed and she waved her hand to get a drink brought to her, a move only she could do in a place as crowded as the Rabbit Hole. "Uhhh…Congrats? I didn't know this was an issue for you. But I guess acceptance is the first step?"

"It's dating not a 12-step program," Emma protested, squirming a bit that she was the center of attention with the ladies. "It's not like I have that big of an issue. I'm a normal woman."

***AAA***

The duplex that Robin shared with his son was a bit crowded with toys and musical instruments, soccer paraphernalia on the walls, and the dining room table serving as an office between meals. Liam had been attempting to play the latest rendition of the song they would be recording in a few day's time, paying particular nuance to some of the notes that had changed and the beat direction that would give Robin a particular issue.

"Sorry about that," Robin said as he re-entered the room. It had been an hour since Roland was to have gone to bed. However, three stories, two glasses of water, a trip to the bathroom, and a promise to look for monsters had left the boy under the covers for maybe 10 minutes overall. "He's a bit of a handful tonight."

"Seems to be glad to have his papa about," Will said, taking another drink from the brown bottle in his hands. "From what I hear it is all too rare an occurrence."

"I don't criticize your drinking habits or taste in women, mate. Don't come in here with your parental observations when you have no kids of your own to worry about."

Liam rubbed his hand down his face. "We have a bit of work to do. Can we please do it before the next interruption?"

There was hardly enough time to get out that request before Roland came storming into the room with questions about the moon and some television show that he had been promised that he could watch in the near future. One leg of his pajamas sat higher than the other and appeared that the arms of his top were stretched out from his ministrations at pulling the garment into weird positions on his body. Dark curls bounced and his eyes showed none of the fatigue that surely should have set in by then.

"Bloody hell, Robin," Will said, falling against the cushioned chair as if he had been the one trying to get some work done. "Did you jack the lad up on coffee?"

"He's just a bit wired tonight. We've got plans for tomorrow." Apologetically, the father lifted his son's flailing form and sternly reminded him that it was way past the time for bed. "We'll play tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep so that you might enjoy it."

"Any more plans for interruptions?" Liam groused, his hand hovering over the guitar strings. "Perhaps I should try myself at writing lullabies rather than ballads."

"I apologize," Robin quipped quickly. "It's hard on the boy with all the changes and whatnot. He may be young, but he can sense things. And what is with you, Liam? You're usually much more laid back than this."

Testing out a few chords, Liam grimaced and set to adjusting the instruments tuning. His shoulders were hunched over and his head cocked to the side as he attempted to listen and reconcile what he was hearing. However, even with the child gone from the room, Will's incessant complaining about the type of food that Robin had on hand and even the comfort of the chair was a distracting noise, as was a drip from the kitchen faucet and the occasional traffic noise outside. "This is pointless," he said, ripping the guitar's case from the floor. "Our guitarist can't be bothered to show up. Robin's too busy being a bloody superhero and Will has the attention span of a gnat. I just wanted to work on this song and get it ready to either record or sell. Is that so bloody difficult to understand?"

Will's mouth was open to comment, but it was Robin that waved off the pending sarcasm. "Liam, what is wrong? You're acting as though something big is riding on this. It's just another song."

It was almost contrite the way that Liam's blue eyes darted downward and he shifted his weight to one side. "I just..." He floundered, eyes closing tight to block out the idea that he might honestly fail at this. "I'm okay."

"Yeah," Robin said slowly. "Will? Why don't you head out? We've got another rehearsal scheduled for tomorrow. I'll tidy up a bit and see to a proper sitter for Roland." Mouth gaping, Will did as he was requested, shooting both men a few looks before settling in and accepting the idea. Once the door had latched shut, Robin gave a quick nod. "It's more than just the song?"

"I live with my brother," Liam said with a resigned sort of sigh. "I sound like a child saying that and perhaps that is how I should sound. No man past the age of university should be worried about placing a towel or tie on the door to warn his brother that he is inside with a lass. And yet that is what Killian and I have been reduced to because I can't seem to manage to be an adult and land a job."

It was often joked about among the friends that Robin was essentially someone's grandmother or elderly aunt. While most of the men enjoyed a beer or two to drown their sorrows, Robin tended to hover and even offer comfort in ways that weren't exactly bursting with society's version of manliness. That was again at the front of Liam's mind when the other man passed him to set the tea kettle on the stove and rummaged through the cupboards for his favorite blend.

"Nothing that a cup of tea won't fix?" Liam joked, shaking his head. "If you tell me that you're going to suggest I snuggle up to one of Roland's teddy bears…"

"I'll do no such thing, but I thought the tea might make you a bit calmer. Look, I know things have been tough with your career change and the band's issues. Hell, I'm feeling it too. And I'm sure that it can't be helpful that Elsa is doing so well in her career. Regina said that Elsa is considering buying her own place away from her sister? Something about a little condo so that Kris can move in with Anna."

"I should be happy for her, right?" Liam frowned deeply. "I should be asking her to get a place together, thinking about a future. But I can't even manage to pay my brother rent with any consistency. Elsa was so thrilled with the home cooked dinner I made the other night for us, but it was all because I couldn't afford another pricey restaurant. She would have noticed if I had water and appetizers compared to her steak and lobster."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, mate. The whole moving across an ocean, giving up your first career, trying to find out if we have the talent and dedication to this whole music thing – it's not for the weak, Liam. I daresay that Elsa is not put off by it, but maybe even inspired. And Killian is hardly kicking you out. He's made more room for you in his life, though I'm sure he would prefer some privacy now and again."

"So you're saying…"

Robin chuckled as he poured the water into the mugs and let the steam fill the air in front of him. "Talk to the lass. See if she is on a similar page as you. You don't have to propose. Just see if she might be thinking about this move as a way to spend time with you too."

***AAA***

Killian wondered again why he had not yet found a set of curtains for his bedroom that completely blocked out the light. Between a full moon and a streetlamp that blinked incessantly through the fabric that didn't quite fit together, he was certain that there was some conspiracy against him trying to sleep. He had thought of everything, except disentangling himself from the blonde in his bed and pulling them together with more force.

"You're thinking," she muttered, her words a bit slurred and heavy in the haze between being asleep and awake. "Seriously, we need to talk about this in the morning. I can't sleep with all this thinking."

He chuckled, lifting up the arm she had casually thrown over his middle. Caressing the soft skin at her wrist with a little kiss and then another, he had her pulling back and yet snuggling closer all at the same time, as she referred to him in her jumbled vocabulary as anything but a very nice person. Persistent, he tugged on her arm until she rolled into him and opened her heavy lidded eyes to his as she rested her chin on his chest.

"Did I wake you?" he laughed, kissing her knuckles this time. "I do apologize. I thought you might be here for more since you did sort of barge into my home tonight."

"You said I should make myself at home," she reminded him. "I think you even gave me a key."

"Aye, horrible mistake. I've been missing certain items ever since."

"Such as?"

"My shirts disappear one by one," he told her, feigning a serious expression as he attempted to list the things she had pilfered. "And I believe you took another book of mine when I wasn't looking."

She yanked her hand away from his and braced herself to hover over him with fingers splayed on the mattress on either side of his arms. "Sounds like you have a thief, Mr. Jones. I'm thinking she should be punished severely." She raised her eyebrows up in her best imitation of the looks he gave her, dissolving into what would almost sound like giggles when he mirrored the expression even better than she had done.

"I think I like the girls' night out things," he informed her as she threw a leg over him so that he was now fully pinned by her position. "You are always a bit naughty when you come back from them."

"Please tell me you're more original than that," she griped, wrinkling up her nose. "Men and their fantasies of two women together. I assure you that it was nothing like that at all."

Snaking his hand out from between them, he cupped her face and let his thumb trail happily against her. "Furthest thing from my mind, my love. I was simply commenting that I like how you come here after them a little bolder from the drink, flushed from dancing, and deliciously tired and pliant as you fall into my arms. It's a nice treat after not spending the evening with you." He torqued his neck up as he guided her down to kiss her soundly, catching her moan in his own mouth. "And I don't mind the taste of rum on those lips of yours."

"You don't do much complaining," she said, repositioning herself again so that she did not have to hold her weight on her hands and knees. "You seem to like everything."

"About you? Yes, I would agree. You seem to have turned me into quite the optimist when it comes to you, love."

"There's got to be something about me that annoys you," she said, frowning. "I'm not perfect."

"Nobody is, but I assure you that the good far outweighs the bad with you. You're beautiful. You're brilliant. You're mesmerizing. You're…"

"Lucky to have a guy as great as you telling me all these things," she finished for him. She bit her lip as she watched his eyes continue to darken from their usual blue to that of a bottomless ocean. "So lucky that I almost believe this isn't going to crash and burn." It was the best she could do to say that she was planning to be in it for the long haul.

"My little optimist."

"So I was thinking," she said, pushing back her hair with her hand as it started to fall like a curtain around them. "Henry and I usually go on a little vacation after July 4. Maybe you'd like to go with us? I know it wouldn't be to any place exotic or luxurious. It's just a chance to unwind and relax a little, but I was thinking that you could…" His smirk was evident as she floundered about with her invitation. Heat rising to her cheeks, she met his eyes and shook her head. "You're going to say yes, aren't you?"

"I love that you still get a bit nervous asking me to accompany you on anything," he said, dropping the sarcastic smile as he drew her down to his mouth again. "Don't you know, Emma? I would go anywhere with you."

***AAA***

Zelena Mills had given up the idea that she should avoid high heels because of her height years ago. She wore them proudly and used her towering frame to her advantage in and out of the office. Sashaying past her sister's darkened suite of offices, the woman sauntered into the area with the less executive offices and placed a little note on Emma's door. She'd already emailed and texted the blonde, but having received no reply decided to go a more old fashioned route.

Owning just as much of the company as her sister, the amber haired woman often liked to remind people that she was clearly as powerful. However, most in the industry knew Regina's name and not the older sister of the two. She barely registered that in her mind though, as the profits continued to come in and serve her well. Still, she got bored just sitting around and letting Regina receive all the praise.

She was not more than five steps from Emma's door when her phone chimed a message.

Emma: Sorry about that. My phone was on vibrate. I will meet you for breakfast. Any particular file you're interested in me brining?

Zelena smiled to herself, as the woman had not argued or done much to protest the early morning meeting. The question about the file was clearly a way of asking about the reason for the invitation, a sign that Emma was not all that dumb.

Zelena: No worries, darling. I just wanted a chance to chat with you about your role here.

That probably sent the young blonde woman into a panic, as any message like that usually indicated layoffs of structural changes. Her sister would probably have been more brazen and honest with the statement, but Zelena preferred playing her cards closer to her chest. She would feel out the talent scout and see if she might be a good fit for what she had in mind. If not, she would move on to the next candidate.

It did an ego good to think about a frazzled and nervous Emma trying to both explain to her sleep addled lover and pull on her clothes why she had to go. She was probably going through a whole litany of reasons why the boss's sister would want to see her. If she was like most, she would settle on the most worrisome and let it turn over in her mind the whole drive to the little café that Zelena had picked for their early morning discussion. It almost made her laugh to think of seeing Emma, usually so put together, running a hand through her hair as a comb or having a button in the wrong hole.

She shouldn't have anticipated it though. Emma entered the small café that smelled of growing herbs and green tea without a hint of anxiety. Blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail and an oversized white shirt over a pair of black leggings, she looked effortlessly beautiful. The only consolation to her hopes of seeing her not as prepared was the fact that the shirt was evidently a man's, which gave her solace that her image of the woman hopping about and trying to explain what was going through her mind was correct.

"I much prefer the herbal teas here to the sugary drinks at Granny's," Zelena said breezily, waving to the white wicker chair in front of her in invitation for Emma to sit. "And I thought this place provides a bit of anonymity compared to the busy bodies there."

Emma nodded and busied herself with a menu that was needlessly complex as it had diners pick out from which animal they wanted their eggs, the style and age of the cheese, and the geographic location where each vegetable was grown. And that was just for an omelet. Settling on a chai latte and free range chicken egg scramble with enriched toast, Emma replaced the menu and gazed back at the woman across from her.

"I know I don't really have much choice when one of the bosses tells me to meet her for breakfast, but can I at least know why. I seriously doubt you can even name the acts I'm working with currently and you rarely even show up at the office unless it is an industry event." This was the blunt Emma that people at the office knew and either loved or hated. She was the woman who had dropped a box of apple tarts in the dumpster when Regina had refused to front the money for new recording space that had promised. She was known to smile and nod about some asinine direction and then tell her artists to do it their own way. Zelena wasn't surprised that she was lashing out as a caged animal.

"I have decided that maybe the industry like it is isn't for me."

Raising an eyebrow in question, Emma waited for further explanation. The woman in front of her showed nothing other than amusement on her carefully made up face. The dark liner around her eyes contrasted with a nearly translucent blue. Lips pursed and in a peach like shade that blended with her creamy complexion, the woman blew a stream of air into the cup of tea that looked as though it had grass clippings in it rather than a tea bag.

However, Emma was aware that this organic and granola version of Zelena was not real either. The woman drank wine by the bottle and was a fan of anything fried and greasy. It was rumored that her assistant's one chief job was to keep the files of take out menus organized. It was clearly an act and façade, but Emma knew it was better to comply than argue.

"You see," she clarified, tapping a natural nail against the painted teacup. "My sister is truly a business woman. She sees numbers and profits where we should be appreciating art."

"That's probably a good way to be if you're running a business."

"Right you are, but see there is so much more to music. So many wonderful things about it that my sister will never understand because she's not like us." Emma held back a cringe that she was anything like the woman that the other employees called the witch. "I'm more into the performance. That's why I've decided to purchase the Rabbit Hole." A look of glee and pride crossed over the woman as she shimmed her shoulders with it. "Isn't it fabulous? I'll be able to turn it into a great performance space and proper night club. None of these cheap little games and dark corners. I'm going to turn it around." Her amber curls bounced as she spoke. "Don't you love the idea?"

"It's great," Emma said, taking a sip of the recently arrived latte. "I'm sure you'll make it a success."

"I knew you'd be excited about it. See I was thinking that maybe you could come over to my side of the company. I need someone to manage it."

The hot liquid caught in the back of Emma's throat. "Me?" she half sputtered and almost sent the liquid flying. "But I'm not…"

"I know you're not a traditional choice," Zelena brushed off, using air quotes around the word. "But you weren't very experienced when my sister hired you either. You are good at finding people. That was your skill. But since then you've really blossomed. You're a hard worker and so good at what you do. I know you could do this too."

"But I…"

The woman reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. "I'm going to email you some numbers. Just preliminary mind you. You take a look and see if you could live with that. I assure you that this is a move up. You wouldn't have to travel as much. You could spend time with that little boy of yours. It could be great for you. Don't answer now though. I want you to think about it."

***AAA***

Liam's heavy footsteps echoed on the floors of the third floor condo as he moved back and forth doing his best impression of what someone interested in buying a place should do. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Elsa liked this one that they were looking at what with her wistful eyes staring at the view from the French Doors that led to a balcony or the way her hand swept along the stone countertops in the kitchen. He was trying to be more practical, dropping to his knees to inspect the plumbing under the sink and jostling windows to check their locks. He hummed in response to the words about the latest in clean air technology on the HVAC system and pretended to understand the difference in bamboo flooring versus other hardwood.

"What do you think?" Elsa whispered when the agent went in search of a private spot to take a phone call.

"I think you might like it, darling."

She frowned, looking at the hallway that led to the two bedrooms. "I know how I feel, but I wanted to know…"

"Darling, it looks like a great deal. You wouldn't have to lift a finger before moving in." He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "So where do you think you'll place the sofa? Here? I think this might be good since you'd get the light."

"Liam!" Her voice echoed and she flinched at the volume. "I don't give a crap about the sofa location right now. Tell me what you think. Do you want to…"

He smirked a bit at her frustrated little grunt. Like a blonde ball of fury, she paced the length of the open concept living space back to the kitchen to examine the drawers. "Darling, I would be more than happy to spend the night with you here. Maybe we should pick out a spot for the bed. You know not on a shared wall and maybe out of the direct rays of the sun in the morning in case we want to sleep in when I'm over." He was listing a few things, ignoring the fact that she had yet to soften.

"That's why you think I invited you over to help me decide which one to make an offer on? So you can suggest bed location and couch selections? Liam Jones, I swear to God. I am capable of doing all that by myself. I wanted you here so you could tell me if you might want to move in with me. I know you just got settled with your brother and all, but I thought we might want to try…" He looked at her with an open mouth and narrow eyes as if he was in shock or confusion about what she was asking. "Forget it. I didn't mean to ask you this way. Just forget it."

She could hear the realtor in the other room finishing the call with a series of okays and talk to you soons. Taking a deep breath, Elsa flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked at him.

"You want me to move in with you?"

"I'm not ordering you to or anything," she said through a tightly clenched jaw. "Anna and Kris are always telling me I'm too bossy. I just thought that maybe this was where we were headed with all this. I mean…Forget it." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry. I just thought that we were getting to that stage and maybe I rushed it."

"This one?" he asked, looking around the empty room and its cream colored walls. "That room over there could be our music room?"

"Ours?" she asked, hopeful and quiet.

"Elsa, I don't know what kind of roommate I'm going to be here. I mean you…The money is an issue. I don't have a big bank account just waiting on me to find a place."

She pursed her lips together and looked over his shoulder at the empty wall behind him. "I've got that part covered. The question is…who gets to hold the remote? Because I think two oldest siblings living together. We might have a power struggle?"

***AAA***

"I like that song," Emma said as she walked up behind Killian. He was chopping through an onion, his voice rising and falling as he belted out the tune. "I don't think I've heard it before."

"Bloody hell, Emma, are you trying to kill me?" He spun almost too fast, the socks he was wearing not gripping the polished floors. "Warn me next time."

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him as she wound an arm around his waist. "And miss out on an impromptu and private performance? Not on your life, buddy." She was backing away when his injured arm twisted around her and pulled her back in for another firm and yet chaste kiss. "Is my son around here? Or did you sell him off for whatever you have cooking in that pot over there? No judgement. I've been tempted a few times myself."

"Considered it, but no deal came through. He's out gathering a bit of wood, as he's gotten it into that brain of his that we should build a fire on the beach this evening. I believe he may have appreciated the camping trip with his father a little more than he's letting on." The knife he was holding clattered to the cutting board and he swatted at Emma's curious appendage reaching out to inspect the covered pot. "Careful, love, it's hot. Not to mention not ready for the unveiling yet."

She pretended to pout as she threw her head back and sniffed into the air. "Do I smell guacamole? Seriously, Killian, how are you real? I thought all English food was all bland and boring. How do you know how to make this stuff? Are you a wizard?"

Snatching one of the still warm chips, he dragged it through the green substance and held it out just in front of her mouth. "One of the trials and curses of being a teacher. I'm constantly feeling the need to educate myself in something new. Tell me if that is too bland for you."

She reached out to wipe as speck of something off his cheek. "Wait! You made the guacamole? Even Granny doesn't make her own. She just opens the container and puts it in a bowl." She finished chewing, darting out her tongue to taste the remnants on her lips. "I'm impressed." She couldn't help but notice how adorable he looked relishing her compliments. "You're my dream come true."

"Because I feed you fattening foods and keep an eye on your son?" he asked jovially.

"You know that isn't all I like about you, right?"

"I was only joking, love. You have shown me that I am more to you than a free meal and chaperone. I'm rather fond of you too. In fact, I quite fancy you." He piled another lump of the guacamole on a chip and fed it to her, licking his fingers after she nibbled near them.

"Good thing," she said, turning to where she knew he kept the plates and glasses. She noted the three margarita glasses there, already rimmed with salt. "Whoa there. Planning on getting my underage son drunk?"

Killian didn't turn in her direction, closing the oven with his hip and dropping a spoon down into the pot. "After the three shots of whiskey and a beer he had while playing cards with my mates, I'm sure a bit of lime and tequila won't inebriate him at all." He chuckled when she grunted. "Don't worry, love. The young Mr. Henry will be having a virgin drink with lemon lime soda rather than tequila."

She laughed, mostly at herself for thinking he would be so foolish and careless. "You think of everything." Without bothering to ask directions, she set the table and brushed off his complaints that she was a guest. "Guests don't have keys."

There was so much food on the table by the time the three of them sat down to enjoy that Emma wondered if he might have invited the whole neighborhood. But it seemed that he had a good gauge on the bottomless pit of her son's stomach. There was tortilla soup that included fresh beans and corn from the local farmers' market. Enchiladas were dripping with cheese and sauce and practically melted under their forks. In addition to the guacamole, there was fresh salsa and queso. For dessert there was flan, which Henry was already boasting about helping to make.

She had to marvel at the ease at which they were getting along. Henry was sharing with her something that happened during his writing class – a story that he had clearly already shared with Killian. The two of them shared a little of their adventure shopping and mentioned a meteor shower that was coming up. When she got around to telling them about Zelena and the job offer, Emma was not sure she had ever confided in someone as easily.

"What do you think you want to do?" he asked as Henry darted into the kitchen for their desserts.

"I am not really sure," she admitted. "I love my job. I enjoy watching people's dreams come true because I helped to find them and put them in with Regina. It's a great job."

"But…"

"Zelena's offer is tempting." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and swiped her finger across it. "That's the starting salary, plus bonuses and benefits." She cringed as his mouth dropped open.

"I'm afraid as a teacher I've never seen a number like that before, love. And now that I've been uncouth enough to react to it, you're going to assume the only reason I'm in love with you is for your money." He didn't even realize at first that he had said it, but she did. Her hand stopped mid-motion and he was cleaning up around her when the words seemed to circle back round to his conscious thinking. "Oh bloody hell, Emma. I didn't mean to…I meant it, but I didn't want to say it until…I've ruined this, haven't I? You weren't ready to hear this. Not yet, anyway."

He closed his eyes and felt a wave of nausea assail him as though the liquor in their drinks hit him all at once. "You're in love with me?" she asked weakly.

It might have turned into a romantic moment if her son hadn't bounded over with his endless energy and started stacking plates and asking if they could wash them after the fire on the beach. Emma didn't even respond, but Killian nodded his head and told Henry that was fine. "Why don't you go look for a bit of kindling for it? I'll be out to light it in a minute."

The two stood and sat in silence until the oblivious preteen had exited. "Are you in love with me? Truly?"

"Aye," he said, the one syllable seeming to deflate every bit of him. "I am."

"How long?" she asked, not even sure why that mattered to her. "How long?"

Thankfully there was a chair behind him that caught him when he sat or else he would have landed unceremoniously on the floor. "I've been falling in love with you since you first told me there was no way you were going to date your son's teacher. But I've known for sure for a while now, love. I didn't want you to think I was trying to put that pressure on you, though. So I kept it…"

Her eyes looked watery, which he noted made them appear more blue than green as she held up a hand to his mouth to stop the flow of words. "You love me?"

He wasn't sure why she sounded so disbelieving. Did she think he was only mildly interested or even bored with her already? The idea struck him as funny, but he couldn't miss the odd look of relief and panic that seemed to fade in and out on her face. "Aye."

Her eyes closed and for a second he wondered if tears were about to shoot out from under the long dark lashes. Her pink lips moved soundlessly as if she was praying or chanting. Perhaps she was, he thought. Perhaps she needed centering or strength. He wasn't sure how long it took, but her eyes snapped back open and she looked calmer, if not still a bit on edge. "I love you too."

It was his turn to be taken aback by the seemingly unplanned confession. "You do?"

She laughed, which was usually a sign of his quick wit. This time wasn't. "You do realize we can keep this up all night, right? Maybe we should believe each other?"

"Say it again?"

"I love you, Killian," she said in as strong of a voice as she could muster. Later he would tease her that he usually associated such an admission with AA or some other program of its kind. But right then it was a beautiful sound that he wanted to echo back to her.