Henry's fever was at its highest on Monday after their trip to New York and his own camping trip in an unheated cabin with his father. While it was on the tip of her tongue to chastise Neal for not making him wear a hat or gloves in their little adventure, she simply informed him that Henry was not available for that last minute suit fitting that Tamara was insisting on for him. There was no further question about it as she checked on her on an hour or so later and found him sleeping with a rattle of congestion when he breathed and his face flushed from the fever.

If anything good happened from the virus he had caught, it was that Elsa and Liam elected to go stay at Anna and Kristoff's for the duration. They had beat a hasty retreat upon finding out from Emma just as everyone was headed to bed that Henry was indeed sick. Liam had a performance after Thanksgiving that couldn't be missed and Elsa feared for her own singing voice. So rather than quarantine themselves with hand sanitizer and masks, they slept on matching couches with her sister.

Killian did not seem all that upset at the development, cooking breakfast that morning sans shirt and humming along with the radio without fear of being watched. That was except for Emma who was parked on the couch with a blanket thrown over her and Mary Margaret's organized trove of wedding suggestions in her lap. Occasionally she would throw an idea out to Killian, who mustered some enthusiasm over flowers and trinkets.

Delivering a freshly brewed cup of coffee to her, he held it aloft until she raised her head and accepted his kiss as payment for the caffeine. He pulled away after the first kiss, licked his tongue over his bottom lip, and then dove in for a second kiss before placing the steaming mug within reach.

"You do know I don't care about any of this stuff," she said, blowing into the too hot to drink mug. "We could just go to city hall."

"I would go anywhere with you, love, but I don't think we'd survive the wrath of Mary Margaret or Ruby. Mary Margaret has become the pseudo mother of the bride and Ruby's apparently designing you quite the frock. I dare say both would be disappointed beyond reason if we were to elope."

She flipped a page in the notebook that was innocently titled bouquets and boutonnieres, barely glancing at the rose and tulip heavy cascade of flowers. "How do you know what kind of dress Ruby's designing for me? She's barely shown me other than to make sure her measurements are right. She may be a hot mess, but she's very superstitious and wouldn't want you to see it before it's time."

He grinned as he returned from the kitchen with his own mug, settling in next to her and resting his left arm on the back of the sofa. The breakfast frittata he was making was in the oven and already filled the air with so many flavorful scents. "She's had some questions about my abilities." Her raised eyebrow made him chuckle. "Nothing too offensive, mind you. She simply asked about my hand and if a zipper was preferable to buttons."

"And your answer?"

"That it was your dress and your comfort and desire should come before my preferences." He grimaced at the heat of the coffee as it hit his tongue. "Though I should have told her that my thoughts on the subject included you, a strip tease, and a quite enjoyable evening to start our lives out was husband and wife."

"She would be the only one of our friends to appreciate that." Emma tried to sound annoyed as she blew one last stream of air at the coffee. "But just so you know, she's not designing what I wear under my wedding dress. That will be for your eyes only. Well, your eyes and I guess the cashier who sells them to me."

The kitchen timer and a sharp knock at the front door interrupted any further discussion of what to wear or not wear for their still nebulous wedding plans. Killian darted to the kitchen, snagging a sweater from the laundry while Emma peered out the window to see who was stopping in so early. "Speak of the devil," she announced when the whirlwind that was Ruby draped her arms around Emma to hug her. Keeping one hand holding a large paper sack, she waved it toward Killian.

"Granny heard that Henry was sick. She sent her miracle soup to help." The dark haired beauty laughed as Killian peeked in the bag he sat next to the fresh from the oven breakfast. "You don't want to know what's in it. I don't even know. I just know there is a lot of hot sauce because she thinks it makes you sweat out a cold or something."

"That's very kind of you and Granny," Killian said, "But perhaps it would be better for lunch than breakfast?"

Ruby ignored the question, shimmying out of her slim cut coat and collapsing dramatically onto the couch just next to where Emma had been huddled. She lifted one of the photos of wedding flowers and promptly ripped it. "If you go with something like that, you might as well have carnations and baby's breath. Seriously, Emma, if you insist on leaving me alone in the spinsterhood, you can at least show some fashion sense and class at your wedding."

Emma let out an amused sigh as she squeezed Killian's shoulder on her way back to the couch. He'd already plated up some breakfast for Henry, adding a slice of toast and brimming glass of orange juice that he placed on a tray. He made a show of balancing it perfectly and was delivering it when Ruby made a face at another photo.

"Don't," Emma warned. "They aren't even mine. This is Mary Margaret's doing."

"I should have known. She's called you forward to the pastel side. Shoes ready to dye? Am I right?"

"Even Mary Margaret has better taste than that," Emma protested, hoping that the advertisements for such things were well tucked away. "I thought you promised to be supportive. You're supposed to be on my side."

While nobody had mentioned Ruby staying for breakfast, she made no protests when Killian returned with a plate for her and a report that Henry woke up long enough to take a bite or two along with another round of medicine. "Try the soup later. It's bound to work." Her lips curled around the fork and she moaned loudly in appreciation.

Killian blushed slightly over Ruby's reaction, but Emma was more amused. "That sounded indecent. Seriously, Ruby, it is just eggs, cheese…" She turned to Killian for help.

"Zucchini, a bit of spinach, a dash of cream, and some honey cured ham." The fork he was holding sliced though his triangular piece and dropped a modest amount into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed, something Emma found endearing. He was the same way in so many things he was passionate about, including kissing and touching her. It was as though he wanted to savor each and every moment. The blue of his eyes popped against his dark lashes as his eyes opened suddenly. "It is quite good."

It was Ruby's turn to be amused, wagging her fork at him. "You two need to spice things up around here. You're turning everyone orgasmic over breakfast." Her ability to eat bellied the thin frame that was covered in a red and black outfit that hugged each curve with definition. Her long legs disappeared under a short black skirt that was buttery soft. A zig zag of red leather crossed in both front and back.

"We have plenty of drama, Ruby," Emma said warningly, winking at Killian as she adjusted the blanket over her lap and enjoyed her own plate. "What are you doing up anyway? I thought that you were spending the weekend with Graham? Shouldn't you be… recovering from doing things that I don't want to know about and you'll end up telling me anyway?" Emma knew her friend well, having spent more than a few nights listening to rants about failed one night stands or the time when Ruby forgot the name of a date and had Emma scouring the internet to find his identity while she hid in the restroom.

Throwing her head back dramatically, Ruby threw her legs up on the solid coffee table. "Okay so I am not just here to deliver soup and mooch breakfast. I need advice." She lifted a single eye to open and spied Emma pleadingly. "You know I don't do this. Not really."

"What don't you do exactly?" Emma asked warily after she gave Killian a silent look that said it was okay for him to stay. "Or should I ask what did you do?"

"Saturday night," she said cryptically with an arm thrown over her eyes. "I went to the Rabbit Hole." Emma wondered how her friend was able to sigh properly with the tight outfit. On someone else it would look like they were trying too hard, but Ruby was a beautiful sight in the leather and bold colors.

Swallowing, Emma drew in a breath and waited for the worst. "Without Graham?"

"He was working." Ruby threw herself back to sitting on the edge of the couch, her back ramrod straight. "Okay so this whole monogamy thing. It's got rules, right? You can't just go around sleeping with guys you don't know if you're in a monogamous relationship."

When Emma didn't answer, her mouth full of the egg dish, Killian gave each woman an amused smile. "It's generally frowned upon, as is sleeping with men you do know." His smirk wasn't returned by either, forcing him to turn the laugh that was bubbling up into a cough.

"Who exactly are we talking about?" Emma asked, prodding her friend gently. She'd been through and subject to many of Ruby's freak outs. This one seemed no different except for Ruby's reluctance to divulge.

"Me!"

Emma reached a hand out and gently stroked through her friend's now tousled and tangled mane of hair. "I meant the guy. Who was the guy? What happened?" She waited while Ruby's breath returned to normal, Emma took another bite of her breakfast and chewed thoughtfully.

"He was just a guy," Ruby said through a dry sob where no tears fell. "I don't even know his name."

"And you slept with him?" Emma asked, cringing at the drama this was going to cause. Confessions, tearful questions, regrets, decisions to move on, and the list would go on and on. There would be awkward moments in the future when Graham and Ruby were in the same room.

"No," Ruby nearly wailed. "I didn't. He said hello. I said hello and then…"

Killian and Emma both waited for Ruby to continue, but she didn't notice them staring expectantly. She flung herself backwards again, her ankle boots clattering against the aged wood table. Hugging a throw pillow to her tight red sweater, she moaned in a painful huff.

"Ruby, whatever you did, I'm sure that Graham can forgive you. I mean this is still very new for you. If you're honest with him, I'm sure…" She glanced at Killian with a hopeful eyebrow raised that he might have the right words now. While she wanted to be supportive of her friend, she couldn't imagine facing such a thing herself. She would never consider cheating on Killian and had no indication he would ever cheat on her. "I'm sure it was just sex. I mean no emotions, right?"

"I didn't sleep with him," Ruby said, lolling her head to the right and looking pointedly toward the blonde. "I wanted to. God, did I want to sleep with him. He was hot. And from the looks of his outfit, which wasn't bought here in Storybrooke, he was rich. And when he talked to me, he was funny, smart, and everything else you could want in a guy."

Confused, Killian placed his mug back down and then removed the plate from his knee as if the shock of this conversation might unbalance it. "Wait? You didn't sleep with this guy?"

"No," she wailed, still beseechingly focused on Emma. "I freaking wanted to and was going to. You know that area in the restroom where…"

"Details aren't necessary," Emma interrupted, not wanting to think about the nights (yes, more than one) when she and Mary Margaret had seen her disappear into that restroom and come out some time later disheveled and sated. "So you had a plan and he wasn't interested."

Ruby's chin dropped and her eyebrows raised in challenge. "When have you known a guy not to be interested in sex?"

That question made Killian laugh and Emma conceded that her friend had a point. Men were never lacking with Ruby, though their quality and worth was lacking. "Point taken. So I'm trying to figure out what's wrong here. You said you didn't sleep with this guy. Does he even have a name because guy is a bit generic?"

"Yeah so I don't know," Ruby complained, rubbing one ankle on the other. "It's freaking insane. I talked to him. I flirted. I mean not overly so. I don't ever do that. And he's all ready to give me his number and suggesting some not so proper things. And do you know what happened?"

Emma said nothing, knowing exactly where this was going. It was Killian who seemed the more enthralled with Ruby's story and her rhetorical question. "Do tell, Ruby."

She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I couldn't do it. I felt sick to my stomach. I saw Graham's face in my head and knew that I couldn't face him if I did this." Her hands lifted to her face where she covered her features with her palms. "I never turn down a guy I'm interested in. Never. What is wrong with me?"

Emma shared a look with Killian, scooting closer to her friend on the sofa. "You realize that you're not a bad person for this, right? I'm proud of you, Ruby."

She lowered her hands and stared incredulously at her friend. "Seriously? I tell you I practically cheated and you're proud of me?" She blinked a few times. "Why?"

"Ruby, it's okay to love him. It's okay to be vulnerable and a little scared. The reward is worth it. I promise."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ruby said harshly. "Nobody is talking about love here. And I do vulnerable. What do you think I am when I wear my stilettos out on a rainy night? That's vulnerable. Anything could get me? A serial killer, a mugger, a pot hole. I know vulnerable."

"You know what I mean," Emma responded. "I'm just saying that there is nothing wrong with wanting it to work out with Graham."

Emitting the large sigh of resignation, Ruby grabbed for one of the files of wedding ideas. "So Granny wants to know if you want to go with just chicken as the main dish or something else and give people a choice. I was thinking seafood, but that doesn't have to work if you don't want it."

Killian shook his head as if the change in topic had given him whiplash. "I like seafood," he said almost meekly before repeating it a bit stronger. "That sounds lovely."

***AAA***

Elsa folded the blankets and placed them at the table at the foot of the stairs. She knew her sister was planning for them to stay another night, but Elsa dreaded the idea. The townhome was spacious and comfortable, but it was no longer home. She missed her own condo too much, the sight of Liam's shoes sticking out from under the bed, her cereal and his both in the pantry.

He came down those stairs a few minutes later with his hair even curlier in the dampness from his shower. "Your sister scares me, darling," he said, swooping in to kiss her with his minty fresh mouth. "I made the dreadful mistake of asking after a bar of soap for my shower. She proceeded to begin naming every bath oil and wash that she has in her possession. I swear to you, darling, I could hear her voice through the door."

Reaching out to smooth some of his damp hair, she smiled uneasily. "She didn't walk in on you, did she? I know she wouldn't mean to, but with Anna…She thinks before she acts."

"Thank God for locks. No, she was waxing nostalgic over something called lavender meets juniper breeze in the hallway. I now know what not to buy her for Christmas."

"You don't have to buy my sister anything," Elsa teased. Or maybe it wasn't much of a jest because that would mean she had to buy something for Killian. And the whole thing could just snowball.

"We'll worry with that later. So…" He darted his eyes about the living room and back toward the stairs. "Your sister is wanting to make us breakfast. But I was thinking…"

"Granny's?" She knew he was not in the mood for his sister's steam of consciousness. To be honest she wasn't either. The two sisters were already scheduled to do a little cooking experimentation in anticipation of Thursday and some baby furniture shopping over the next few days. Plus they were meeting with the web team at the label about some promotion for their site.

"Sounds like a brilliant plan. I'll grab our coats and you tell that guard of yours that we are venturing out." He half turned to leave toward the closet when he spun back and kissed her even more solidly than before. "Sorry about that. I just needed a little motivation this morning."

"Liam!" Anna called from upstairs. "Next time you shower you totally need to try this new all natural loofa sponge that I got. It makes your skin glow. Well not like in the dark or anything, but it makes you look good. I think it would be good for you. Not that I…"

Elsa hid her face against Liam's broad shoulder and soft sweater. "Tell her to stop," she said in the muffled tone against him.

"Thanks, Anna," he called out. "Perhaps another time." His voice was strained with hidden laughter.

"Go," Elsa told him. "I'll distract her and get your coat. You tell Frank or Ollie or whoever the guard is right now. Don't look back. She can totally sense hesitation. She'll pounce."

***AAA***

Fresh out of the shower, Killian stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were still a bit red from lack of sleep and his skin a more pallid shade than normal. While Emma had been comforting and even distracting, his father's words played on loop in his head. Even the purplish bruise from the nurse's needle seemed to be reminding him of the weekend.

With his phone eerily silent on the counter, Killian concentrated on his reflection again and whether or not he should shave. Deciding that he should, he was part way done artfully trimming his stubble when the phone bleated a generic ringtone that he feared was the news from the doctor in New York. No news meant that he did not have to make any decisions, something he didn't mind postponing for as long as possible. His brother may have placed the truth out there for him to see, but it didn't make the idea of refusing someone a lifesaving operation any easier to face.

The phone number on the screen was not a New York area code though, but Killian answered it with a measured trepidation. The conversation was rather short and he wasn't sure that the woman on the other end fully appreciated what he had to say. However, it needed to be said. He wasn't interested in recording let alone traveling about on tour. His brother might dream of such things, but he did not.

Killian came back into the kitchen from their shared bedroom, pushing his phone into his pocket. "Sorry about that, love." Emma had knocked and looked at him questioningly while he was on the phone. In his haste to finish the call, he had waved her off.

"Was it the doctor?" Emma had tied her hair up in a messy knot atop her head, her emerald green sweater and faded dark jeans covered with an apron that she usually teased Killian for owning. Two bowls were in front of her with flour and other ingredients mostly in the bowls. Directly in front of her was the stained recipe for a chocolate lava cake.

"No, it was Regina's assistant asking for me to attend a meeting with your boss." He eyed the mess carefully as he rounded the peninsula and smiled. "I told her I wasn't available for it. What on earth is all this, love? Are you attempting to bake?"

She leaned in to kiss his cheek, furiously wiping off some of the flour that she transferred to him. "Don't laugh, but I wanted to give this a shot. See I always just buy the stuff Henry has to take to school for bake sales and stuff. I never really have time to bake. I can cook. I can make anything that includes meat and vegetables and is prepared on a stove. But baking…"

Ignoring the flour that clung to her, he slid in behind her, his hand skimming down her torso and coming to rest on her hip. "I've been known to bake a few things. Perhaps I could be of some assistance."

Her back was nestled against his chest and his breathing seemed to coincide with hers. "Of course you know how," she muttered, reaching for the recipe. "I feel a little bit like a bum. Isn't this something moms should know how to do?"

"Perhaps moms in 1950s sitcoms, love, but not actual mothers. At least not any that I know." Peeking over her shoulder, he kissed a spot just below her ear and then again at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "You have many other fine skills and qualities."

She grimaced, flushing possibly from his compliment but also frustration. "So…no word from your dad's doctor?"

"No news is good news, but I don't know what good news would be at this point. I thought we decided not to make any decisions until we know there is a decision to make."

"Sorry. I'm just worried about you. Not even mentioning the emotional impact this is clearly going to have on you, your relationship with your father, and your relationship with your brother, there's the physical thing. Surgery like that isn't a joke. What if…"

"I promise, love, if the doctor's office calls and says I am a match, you and I will make a decision together. I won't be doing anything rash or headstrong." His fingers dug into the flesh near her hip. "Now do we want to do this together or shall I heat up some of that soup for the lad? I'm rather anxious to see if Granny's claims of healing properties can be trusted."

She laughed tightly, turning her head toward him. "I checked on him earlier. He's sound asleep again thankfully. Seems he had another of the nightmares about me drowning." She frowned. "I thought we were past those."

"Aye, I did too. Do you suppose our being away this weekend caused any anxiety? He seems to have them when separated from you." The dreams had not completely stopped, but Emma knew they had lessened. Either that or he was not telling her of them as frequently. She'd hoped that he would move past them as he realized that she was not planning anything so dangerous to take her away permanently. "I would guess the fever he has doesn't help."

She closed her green eyes, breathing in slowly. "I didn't ask Neal if…"

"It's alright, love. Go look in on the lad. I'll tidy up a bit and we'll try again on your sponge."

She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar use of a familiar word. "Oh you mean cake." She grinned a little. "I watch those British baking shows sometimes."

"You have quite a few eclectic little habits like that," he teased, his voice deep and breath warm on her ear. "I've caught you watching a few of those cop shows as well."

"Believe it or not, I considered that line of work in a previous life, Killian." She lifted her spatula like a gun. "I am good at finding people. I thought I might make a career of it."

"You are good at finding talent. Brilliant in fact. So any more thoughts about this whole idea of producing?" He was talking and asking about something serious, but yet his tone was light and playful. His hand skimmed along her hip and up then down her torso again.

She dropped the spatula and stepped out of his embrace to busy herself in another area of the kitchen. "I thought we were going to concentrate on your father, the wedding, and making sure your younger brother stays put. Not to mention there's Henry's grades, Neal's wedding, two friends having babies, and whatever drama Ruby brings in next." Rolling her shoulders back, she kept facing forward as she searched in the cabinet for some unseen item. "What about you? Any more thought on the school thing with Mary Margaret?"

His eyes narrowed at her obvious escape and avoidance. "I planned to talk to her at this party thing Thursday. She's taken the lead on it." Though she wasn't looking at him, he frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she answered, turning 90 degrees and walking over to the refrigerator where she pulled out the soup from Granny. "I just thought we were going to hold off on my career decisions until things were more stable. But it's not a big deal."

He watched her for a moment and then joined her next to the stove. "I told you that we could make this work if you…I only mean that we can go at whatever speed you like."

"Let's get this done for Henry, okay? We'll talk about life altering decisions later. You decipher that recipe over there and I'll heat this up. That's about my speed right now."

***AAA***

"So I was thinking that it might be a little crowded at that loft," Granny told Elsa as Liam tried to pick something new and different from the menu. There was nothing new on it and very little that could be called exciting. Yet he still tried and usually settled for waffles. "What if we took the burden off the poor girl and hosted it here."

"Here?" Elsa considered thoughtfully as she dragged her straw through the ice water. "I'm not sure that the diner is the family feel Mary Margaret was really reaching for on this."

The older woman huffed at being shot down, yanking the menu out of Liam's hands. "You do realize that we are planning to fit me, Marco, August and his date, Ruby, Graham, You and Liam, Emma, Killian, Henry, Anna and her husband, David, Mary Margaret, Ashley, Sean, and whichever other strays end up at this thing, all around a table with four chairs. I'm just saying there has to be a better place."

Liam, who had said nothing, reached out to retrieve the menu only to have her hold it out of reach. "I wasn't done with that, Granny." He chuckled playfully and reached again. She slapped his hand with the laminated menu.

"You're just going to order the waffles," she sniffed. "Just think about what I said, Elsa. Nothing is worse than eating turkey in shifts because there is no room."

Elsa dropped her head to her hand and rubbed at her temple. "She has a point."

"Aye, but she's also a tad violent with that menu. And I wasn't planning on getting waffles. I was considering that wester omelet thing until she snatched it away from me." He rubbed at his hand as though he still felt the sting. Elsa looked at him incredulously. "Very well. I was planning to get the waffle, but she didn't know that for sure."

"Mary Margaret really wants to host this party for Thanksgiving. It would break her heart if we have it at the diner instead."

"Perhaps we should cut the guest list? Henry's feeling poorly so he may be out, which would mean Emma and even Killian…"

"You can't go around disinviting people. Besides, it's Monday. Henry will be fine by Thursday. What if we had it at the condo? We have that giant great room area, open concept and all that."

Liam swallowed the coffee in front of him and grimaced. "We don't even have a dining table. Plus the place has been shut up since this whole thing with my brother. Anna's?"

"My sister is a hormonal mess right now. She was following me around this morning with a vacuum. Her hosting Thanksgiving would probably send her over the edge. Plus there is no parking there." She pursed her lips and stared off toward the menu. "What about Emma and Killian's? They've got a larger table and we could do something outside with heaters and stuff. It would work, wouldn't it?"

"We do always seem to congregate there. I don't see a problem." He reached for the raw sugar packet, shaking it for good measure. "But if you suggest I ask my brother, you're likely to be disappointed. I think we've both run out of favors owed in that case."

Remaining thoughtful, Elsa again stirred through the water. "No, you're right there. Besides we need to make it seem like it's Mary Margaret's idea. I don't want to hurt her feelings." There wasn't much of an explanation needed, as the woman who was normally even keeled and protective was overboard with every emotion.

"Good idea, I suppose," Liam lamented as his waffle, sans whipped cream, was dropped off in front of him and Elsa's healthier dish in front of her. "We are quite different, you and I?"

Spearing a piece of melon with her fork, she hummed her response wondering what he was getting at. "That's a bad thing?"

"No, I only meant that sometimes it seems strange that the lovely proprietress here would see us as such a good match. I am not complaining, as I'm more than grateful. I just wonder what it is she saw."

Elsa chewed slowly, giving herself time to digest the words and consider her own. Finally, she took a sip of her water and swallowed that too. "Well, we are both the oldest children in our families. We both have a love of music and writing. Both of us are stubborn and loyal. We can both be fiercely determined and not all that easy to please."

"I feel that way too," he said softly, looking toward the counter where it was business as usual in the diner. As it was Monday most people were at work, but there were a few extras given the holiday. The usual décor of forest wall paper and red vinyl with formica was enhanced with autumn leaves and honeycombed turkey decorations. Liam had made fun of the ornamentation when they first arrived, but he was beginning to like its simplicity. "What brought this on, darling? Are you creating some pro con list that I am unaware of right now?"

"No, it's more about just considering what I'm thankful for this year. I suppose it's the idea of Thanksgiving, but I'm trying to not be so focused on the negative. My career's going quite well. My sister is happy and in love. I'm about to be an aunt. I've got friends who support and love me. And I have a loving and wonderful boyfriend." She smiled, spearing another piece of fruit. "If I just focus on those things, I have to admit I'm happy."

"I like the sound of that. You being happy." He reached across the table to clasp her left hand. "And one of these days we'll be back at our lovely condo and things will be back to normal."

Her icy eyes watched their entwined fingers for a moment. "So what if we move back now? Your brother is still out there, but if we're careful…"

"Elsa, he tried to run you off the road. He may have broken into Killian's garage. It's just not safe…"

"Those things happened since we left. I'm tired of living our lives based on where he's going to strike next. I want to go home, Liam. I want to have a home again and not be a burden or a guest. I want spend rainy or snowy days with you on the couch, curled up in pajamas while I read a book and you strum your guitar looking for just the right way to express yourself. I want to raid the refrigerator at 2 a.m. and only worry that you're going to catch me. Only it won't be you catching me because you'll join me and we'll snack on good things until we fall asleep without even bothering to clean the kitchen. I want us to make love in our bed and not have to worry about your brother or my sister hearing. We have a guard. Robin's already made some improvements. We'll be careful and vigilant. Let's go home."

***AAA***

To Elsa's relief Mary Margaret was not at all upset in the change in plans. She even volunteered to call Emma herself, saying she didn't want to impose on her without knowing for sure with her own ears.

"Are you sure?" Emma asked Mary Margaret with the phone tucked against her ear. "I feel horrible that he might have passed his germs on to you."

"I teach for a living. Past the first year I built up an immunity that you wouldn't believe. Trust me. You could drop me in a room with patients of a bubonic plague and I'd be healthy. It's not a big deal."

"But David isn't immune and you're pregnant. I feel awful." Henry was on the mend and even his pediatrician's office had seemed rather blasé about the whole thing earlier.

"Trust me, it's fine. Now tell me what's going on. You sounded stressed when I called earlier." Leave it to Mary Margaret to already be concerned about someone other than herself. Her voice lost that harsh teacher edge in these moments and became what Emma had always imagined her own mother would sound like.

"Just trying to take care of Henry, deal with this whole thing with Killian's father, learn to bake, and somehow convince my boss that my fiancé is not interested in becoming the next big thing in music. By the way that is in random order. Plus someone keeps dropping off wedding planning stuff over here. Do I really have to pick what kind of runner I want to walk down the aisle on? How is that even a choice?"

If Mary Margaret was offended at her friend's overwhelmed rant, she didn't show it. "Yeah, you're a little busy. So I guess it won't help if I say I have one more thing to ask you to do."

Emma flopped back on the bed, as she had closed herself off in hers and Killian's bedroom to have the conversation. She had seen the look in his eyes that said he was concerned about her and heard his voice sounding worried he had done something wrong. While he hadn't, she was teetering on the edge of a meltdown at that moment. It felt selfish to her to think of him waiting on life or death news about his father and she was the one breaking down. "If you want me to kill someone, I'll try to work it into my schedule. If you want me to consider another wedding plan you saw online and just have to see in person, count me out."

"You can't see me right now, but I have my fingers in the Girl Scout salute. Seriously, I won't even mention the wedding if that takes something off your shoulders. Actually it's about Thanksgiving."

"Oh right," Emma said, staring at the ceiling above. She knew her friend was going for that traditional New England holiday feel. Next year their meal might include a few others, including the new babies who would be there by then. "How set were you on having lava cake? Because I was thinking that your pumpkin pie is dessert enough. Plus you know Granny will bring that stuff she makes. And since you invited Regina, Robin, and Roland you're bound to get apple tarts from Regina."

Mary Margaret's laugh sounded relaxed and easy. "No big deal, Emma. I am sure whatever you want to make will be fine. See. I am not the control freak everyone assumes I am." She paused when Emma didn't confirm her assessment. "No, really. I'm not. But we do have a location issue. Granny and Elsa called. Our guest list is kind of getting out of hand."

"So you want me to disinvite people," Emma said knowingly. "I get it. Okay there are a few easy cuts."

"No, I'm not asking that. See, Elsa and Granny were thinking the loft might be too small for everyone to be comfortable. And except for the diner, you're the one with the biggest place. We could even get some of those heater things and place them around. What do you think?"

Within 20 minutes they had a plan that she promised to run by Killian. Then they could go about notifying everyone of the venue change. Emma was already feeling relieved that Mary Margaret's favor seemed to be manageable.

"So you're sure you're okay with everything?" the brunette asked again. "Because if you need to talk…"

"I'm fine," Emma assured her. "I'm just feeling a lot of things at the moment. I thought I was okay with everything earlier but now…"

"You're worried about Killian, aren't you? I would be too if it was David. That's kind of a jerk move to abandon your son and then show up years later wanting a liver." Mary Margaret clicked her tongue on the top of her mouth. "You do realize that most people would have told him to go to hell."

"Yeah, most people," Emma said ruefully. She rolled to her right and came face to face with a photo of her and Killian from their summer vacation. Henry had taken it, the sun shimmering her in blonde hair perfectly and pinkness of her skin and Killian's well on display. The ginger coloring of Killian's stubble was on full display with the brightness of the light. "I'm worried about him, Mary Margaret. What if…"

"Emma, it's okay to worry. But maybe if you talked to him about this. It is him we're talking about."

She closed her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I don't want him to know how worried I am. It's his decision not mine and I don't want him to think I'm interfering." She left out the guilt that she was feeling over his reluctant acceptance of things in her career just because he had wanted her to be happy. And the fact that Regina was apparently trying to reach him did not help.

"It's not good to let things boil inside you. Just talk to him, Emma. You'll feel better."

So that is what she meant to do. She pulled herself up off the bed after disconnecting the call and ran her hand through her hair that now was falling out of the knot atop her head. She walked slowly into the great room, waiting to see if he would notice her. He did. But it was not as she had pictured the moment just seconds before. He was on the phone too, the three lines between his eyebrows bunching together dramatically. When he disconnected, he shrugged at her hopelessly.

"I'm a match."