Chapter Seven
Emma was already exhausted but she had so much to do. Hearing the heartbeat of the actual human that was growing inside of her was draining enough if it wasn't for the fact that Neal was also terrified.
Every beat seemed to wipe a shade of colour from his face until he had to hold onto a side table but Mary Margaret had a calming enough presence that she was sure that she could go through with all of this.
Her father's following frog march to the cafeteria to buy the sandwich that contained the most sustenance possible invigorated her temporarily until the sheriff released her bag from his custody and she remembered what was next in the itinerary.
It wasn't too long ago that she would have been elated to be paired with Regina Mills. It would have been the perfect opportunity to blend the obligation into a date, effectively blending their studies into a make-out session.
Now Emma doubted that she would be allowed close enough to touch her. It was imagining the pulsing awkward aura between them while they analysed Shakespeare, even if it was mercifully not one of his more romantic plays.
This feeling reminded her why it was that she had initially refused to eat, it was very liable to come back up and on this occasion, she couldn't blame her son for that fact.
She swallowed thickly as her bug trundled up the pathway towards the looming building that had once almost intimidated her out of picking Regina up for their first date. This time around, their argument was playing on a loop in her mind, how she had foolishly tried to defend herself.
She'd had plenty of time to dwell on this while trying to sleep but there was no angle that allowed her to sympathise with her own plight. They were technically broken up but no one online agreed that twelve hours was long enough to be with someone else. They couldn't agree on whether it made it worse that she did it with someone to who she had literally zero attraction.
Emma may have been grateful that it was someone as supportive as Neal if it had to happen but she still often compared him to the girlfriend that she'd lost periodically.
Her phone buzzed as she placed the creaking car into park, a welcome distraction from what was about to ensue. Unfortunately, the content was not the topic that she would have liked.
'Glad lil' Junior is all good, if you need extraction from your studies, you know the signal'.
Emma rolled her eyes but typed out her response anyway, 'Thanks Killian, but I think I can handle some Shakespeare. Call you after?'
The dots appeared for a few seconds, followed by another message - 'You better. You have an hour before I call your dad to report the mayor for whatever horrible revenge she has planned'.
'This has been the exact confidence boost I needed as always ' she typed with a huff.
'No problem ;)'.
Emma stared at the words trying to think of a way to prolong the conversation and save her from going to the door. Ultimately, she stowed the device away and exited the car, twisting awkwardly to get her as she did.
The bump may not be too big just yet but she still wasn't used to its presence so it did take some additional effort some days to figure out how to move like she used to.
She held her breath until she reached the mansion and knocked with bated breath. In the ten seconds it took to open, Emma clasped her hands in front of her, behind and then rocked on her heels while twisting her hoodie.
It was tighter than she would like but could that be because she was hyper-aware that there was a baby in there now that she knew that he was a boy?
Somehow that fact made the thing feel more like an actual person than ever before. She doubted that any of the occupants of Milfin Street would feel the same strange mix of terror and adoration when it came to the bump.
By the time Mayor Mills was towering over Emma was again tugging helplessly at the hoodie, likely drawing attention to what she was trying to conceal. Cora's eyes lingered there for a second before she cleared her throat and drew herself up, clearly gifted in the act of intimidation.
It was once more playful but now, under her withering gaze, she felt as though she was finding out what actually happened when you hurt someone's daughter.
Swallowing her desire to run, Emma said, "Mrs Mills…Hi…I don't know if Regina told you but…"
"She told me to expect you thirty minutes ago," Cora deadpanned.
Emma's mouth dried and she stuttered, "I…texted her about that. She said it was fine."
"Well, she has been learning to deal with disappointment lately," Cora replied evenly despite narrowing her eyes more with each word.
The younger girl's stuttering became full-on stammering as she tried to think of a defence, "I…didn't mean…I…"
"Mom?" came through the door behind the mayor, "What are you doing?"
Cora stepped aside to reveal that her saviour was wearing a blank expression, at least in stark contrast to the storm on her mother's face. Emma suspected that she wasn't far off assuming similar disdain, however.
"I was greeting our guest, dear," Cora said.
Regina uncrossed her arms and turned on her heels, probably so that Cora didn't see her rolling her eyes.
"Come on, Emma," Regina called over her shoulder, not checking that she was following.
Emma opened and closed her mouth a few times locking eyes with Cora who had finally stepped out of her path into her home.
"I believe you know the way, Miss Swan?" Cora said tightly.
Emma ducked her head and rushed by the woman who she was sure had a lot more biting quips prepared for their interaction.
She didn't need to lift her head throughout the entire path through the mansion and into the only bedroom open to her.
Of course, she'd been in here countless times but now it was more like unexplored, frozen territory. Their relationship was once splashed across the space, immortalised in pictures and signified in the items that Emma would leave there, specifically the hoodies and jackets that Regina claimed custody of.
It appeared to have been scrubbed away now.
Briefly, Emma eyed the closet, thinking about asking for her stuff back but it wasn't like the clothes would fit her well right now and the rest of it would probably be as painful to behold as the box stowed away in her own room.
Dismissing the thought, she closed the door behind her and searched out the room's owner. Regina was sitting on her bed, surrounded by books from a plethora of subjects and was already tapping quite violently at her laptop.
Once upon a time, Emma wouldn't have missed the chance to comment on the cute little pinch to her brow as she worked away and then she would have settled beside her and the other girl would, at last, take a breath through her pursuit of academic perfection.
Today, things were not quite so easy and light between them.
She took a second to play with the strap of her bag longing to sit on the ridiculously comfortable bed, for so many reasons.
She didn't need to ask where she should set up her stuff, however, drifting over to the desk that seemed to have been cleared for her.
Emma cleared her throat and plopped her bag onto the wooden surface, starting the process of fishing out everything that she would need to effectively start the project.
Conversationally, as she organised her books, she said, "Sorry I'm late, my mom forced me to…"
Regina stopped typing sharply and Emma bit her tongue as she was cut off sternly, "It's fine. Did you read the play?"
Releasing the crumpled copy of The Merchant of Venice from the pile on the desk, Emma nodded and shifted her bag to the floor.
"Of course I did," she replied, never so relieved that English wasn't a class that she had fallen behind in during her endeavours to balance school, work and the general effects of growing another person.
For the following twenty minutes, she and Regina lived up to their promise to be civil in the interest of school and discussed all things Shylock, Antonio and Portia among other characters and themes. That was until Emma gripped her pen and huffed, her free hand coming up to cup the bump.
"Is everything okay?" Regina asked, almost sounding like she cared.
"I'm fine," Emma assured, the pair of them at last sharing real eye contact, "I'm sure that you don't want to hear about this…"
"If you're in pain…"
"It's not pain," Emma replied, "He's just moving."
Regina stared at her blankly for a while, apparently trying to decide who she was referring to, "He?"
Emma squirmed, unconsciously keeping her hand in place even though the movement had settled.
"We found out today…Dr Whale said he's healthy."
Regina cleared her throat and continued typing absently, "That's good, I'm happy for you."
The bitterness pushed a chill through Emma, destroying any notion that they were having a moment.
"Regina…" she sighed.
"Can we just get this over and done with please?" Regina snapped.
The tone transported Emma to the day that she'd told Regina the truth, the heartbreak, the fear, the tears. She could feel their tenuous truce shaking and then hurtling towards another explosion.
To prevent this, she started gathering her books together frantically.
"I…er…I think I can do my section at home. I'll…"
She stood with a precarious hold on her things but Regina pushed her laptop to also stand so that she could hold out her hand to stop her.
"You don't have to go," she huffed, "We're supposed to do this together."
Emma bit her cheek as if it would stop her from taking this as hope that the other girl wouldn't always hate her. That wasn't what this was about, it was just a school assignment.
Emma hesitated, trying to balance her books as she argued, "Pretty sure that your mom is furious that I'm in her house."
Regina dropped back to her academia-infested bed and said, "She'll be more furious if I fail English."
Emma released a long breath but her back was thankful that she deposited the pile onto the desk and retook her position on the chair.
"Okay, if you're sure?"
"I'm sure," Regina replied unconvincingly but Emma still sought out her pen so that they could continue discussing only The Merchant of Venice.
S
After a long day at school, the last thing that Mary Margaret wanted was to host potentially the most awkward meal of her life.
She had been around Neal Cassidy enough now that his presence was not an issue, even if her husband would disagree. For her, it was their fellow parents that they had little interaction with up until now.
Milah Cassidy seemed nice enough, but her husband, commonly known as Gold due to his long-standing store, did not have the most comforting aura.
Thus far, they had all been sharing small talk as they chewed slowly at the meal that she had painstakingly prepared, but none of them wanted to address the reason that they were all here.
Emma and Neal each had their heads ducked while they ate and Mary Margaret wished that she could think of a way to assure them that they were not in trouble, the purpose of this was for them to all figure out what the future held.
As Emma grimaced and pushed a tomato away, it was Milah who beat Mary Margaret to starting a conversation, "So Emma, how are you feeling?"
Emma's head shot up almost comically, at least it would have been funny if Mary Margaret wasn't looking at her terrified daughter.
The girl recovered though and replied, "I'm okay, Mrs Cassidy."
Milah smiled warmly before she pushed further and asked, "Have the cravings started yet? Neal wanted me to have everything with Nutella, it was disgusting."
"Mom!" Neal objected, dropping his fork.
"Honestly, how is that embarrassing?" Milah admonished.
Neal's shoulders slumped and he sheepishly picked up the fork, looking at Emma who was biting her lip in amusement.
"I don't know," he admitted.
"The cravings haven't started yet," Emma interjected, "Nutella doesn't sound so bad though."
"I got them quite late," Mary Margaret added, "With any luck, we can keep pickles out of the cupboard for a while."
Milah and Mary Margaret shared a laugh, during which David and Gold dragged their gazes from their food to exchange strained looks.
It would appear that it was the men who were struggling with this on both sides?
Emma attempted to placate this, at least on the Cassidy side, as she said, "The only thing I've really wanted is gummy bears but Neal brings them to me whenever I ask. He's been great."
Neal flushed as his parents both exuded pride in his direction and Gold at last spoke up:
"Well, that is good to know. We can see that you have both been working exceptionally hard," Emma responded by ducking her head again and pushing her food around the plate as the man continued, "I understand that you are planning to go to Harvard?"
Neal scowled at him and Milah elbowed him. Had he been coached in the same way that David had? The sheriff was currently opting to say nothing to live up to his promises to not allow things to get too awkward.
"Yeah…" Emma replied, clearly trying to hold in a sigh as she indicated her growing stomach, "I'm not sure that's possible now, we need to figure this out first."
Gold replied, "Yes but…"
"Dad," Neal cut him off, "College is a while off. We haven't thought that far ahead. We need to meet him first."
Following a nudge from Milah, Gold sobered and said, "Of course, you're right."
Milah kept up her unimpressed expression at her husband until she smiled reassuringly at Emma and said, "Sorry for pressing but I'm sure that you can understand that we just want to know how to help you both."
"Thank you, Mrs Cassidy," Emma replied.
A silence fell over the table, during which they finished their meals and Mary Margaret asked, "Emma, didn't you mention math homework? Maybe you could do that while we talk?"
Emma nodded as Neal's eyes widened.
"Oh crap, I need to do that too," he rushed out.
"Language!" Milah scolded.
"Sorry mom," he mumbled.
"I can help you with it?" Emma suggested and he eagerly fled his seat to follow her.
Once they were out of earshot, Milah sighed and lamented, "They are so young."
"We know," David affirmed, speaking for the first time during the meal.
"Should we make sure that the bedroom door is open?" Gold suggested.
Mary Margaret waved her hand dismissively, "You don't need to worry about that, Emma is still in love with Regina Mills."
Gold frowned and took a deep sip of wine before he said, "It would appear that High School has become significantly more complicated since we graduated."
"Definitely," David agreed and the two women hummed before the four of them launched into their theories as to how the responsibility would be split between their children when it came to their grandson.