Chapter 14

fourteen

Emma was fairly convinced that Regan had, in fact, sustained a head injury at the bookstore last Saturday.

What kind of head injury, exactly? She wasn't sure, but that wasn't really her expertise as a non-medical professional.

All she knew for sure was that literally every time she'd seen Regan for the last five days something was… off. Again, Emma would be hard-pressed to say exactly what it was, but there was always something.

Sunday, it had simply been the staring. Regan had sat with her and discussed her work project for a couple of hours. Which had, honestly, been even more helpful than Emma had imagined it would be. How frequently she'd turned to catch Regan just… staring at her had been weird, though.

Monday, there'd been what Emma had started thinking of as the coffee incident. In which she'd left her cup of coffee in the kitchen, so she'd run back into the kitchen while in her bra and underwear to grab it. Only to bump into Regan – not literally – who had promptly spilled her own coffee down herself.

Tuesday, Regan had tripped over her own feet, landing face-first against the living room floor when she'd been on her way to join Emma to watch TV. Luckily, her face had hit the plush area rug, but Jesus . Emma had been stretching and hadn't actually seen what had made Regan fall.

Wednesday, they'd barely seen one another due to their work schedules, as Regan had to close. Still, though, she'd been a little weird when Emma texted her to ask if she'd remembered to bring something for dinner or needed anything.

Last night, Emma had entered the bathroom while Regan had been showering; she'd just needed to grab her moisturizer and assumed she'd be able to slip in and out before Regan would even notice. After all, Regan was singing – loudly and heartily – along with the music playing on her phone.

But Regan had noticed. She'd paused her admittedly decent singing that Emma had finally gotten used to – and might, just the littlest bit, have started to enjoy – cutting abruptly off as Emma opened the medicine cabinet.

Emma had frozen in place as Regan asked, "… Emma?"

"Who else?" She'd returned playfully, in a manner she'd only realized was very Regan after the fact.

"An axe murderer, serial killer, abductor… New York's full of weirdos."

Emma had let out a laugh. "I'm living with one of them."

Regan hadn't laughed back, as Emma had expected. Instead, she'd hummed before she'd wrapped her fingers around the cloth of the shower curtain. Long, slim fingers, and Emma should have turned around and left the bathroom right then and there. She really should have. Because she was staring far too intently at Regan's hand, as the laughter in her throat completely died away. Why was Regan holding the shower curtain like that? Like she was about to open it?

And why wasn't Emma leaving? Or asking Regan what the hell she was doing?

She should have been doing either or both of those things. Instead, she'd inhaled sharply and stared, those brief seconds seeming to drag on entirely too long.

That breath had held, stuck in her lungs, as Regan had slowly tugged the shower curtain, and Emma could barely breathe – the air was far too steamy. Too thick. Too much, and Emma's heartbeat quickened.

Before Regan poked her head out, the curtain stopped moving.

Her dark hair was slicked back, and she stared at Emma, dark eyes wide and curious, as droplets of water slid down the soft skin of her cheeks. One made a home right at the edge of her full lips, and Emma's eyes zeroed in on it as Regan spoke.

"I'm in the shower," Regan had said, studying Emma carefully.

"I know that," she found herself saying, though she couldn't summon a scoff for the life of her.

Regan rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, that droplet disappearing with it. "I'm – I'm naked in here."

What Emma had wanted to do – what she did in the aftermath – was roll her eyes as hard as she could and say something like, "Right, I hadn't realized that even though you were showering that you were also naked in there, thanks for enlightening me ," or even, "No, really?!" because – obviously!

People showered naked! Obviously!

Regan hadn't said that the way she'd normally say something like that. She hadn't laughed and flicked water at Emma or worked in any theatrics.

And Emma… Emma had realized, in that very moment, that amidst the very in-depth pro/con list she'd made before agreeing to move in with Regan, she'd left off one aspect. An aspect that, right at that second, was something crucial. Something that Emma, as a very thorough person, should have thought about – that Regan was one of the most attractive people Emma had ever met in real life.

A few months ago, she'd have called herself ridiculous for factoring that into her Regan Roommate Pro/Con. But, as she breathed in the headily heavy air, staring at Regan, who was naked in the shower only a foot away, she thought – I should have factored that in .

As a pro or a con? A snarky voice – the voice that occasionally liked to pop up and remind Emma that she hadn't dated in two years – had asked in the back of her mind.

Definitely a con, she'd been able to realize as she finally regained her mental faculties and dragged her gaze away.

She'd cleared her throat and finally opened the medicine cabinet. "I just needed my moisturizer," she muttered, shaking her head. "I didn't think you'd mind, given your proclivity for ignoring boundaries and all."

"So… you weren't trying to join me in here?" Regan had asked, and Emma didn't understand her tone.

She didn't understand it because it didn't sound like jovial teasing.

But she refused to let herself look at Regan again as she exited the bathroom without an answer to the ridiculous question.

All right, Emma would admit to being partially responsible for the weirdness of the shower incident last night. But she maintained that Regan was at the root of it.

As they were on the subway heading to Astoria to see her gram, the staring thing was happening again. Emma could see it out of the corner of her eye, the way Regan had turned in her seat to look at her.

Luckily – or not, depending on how she looked at the situation – Emma didn't have the time or energy to dedicate to Regan's possibly head-wound-related strangeness of the previous week.

Not with how tightly wound her nerves were about the impending clashing of her worlds.

Regan was going to meet her gram. Gram was going to meet Regan, who she believed was Emma's girlfriend. Her serious, live-in girlfriend.

A meeting that would happen in less than twenty minutes, as their stop was rapidly approaching, and Primrose Grove was only a five-minute walk from the subway station.

"So, speaking of the episode of The One that we watched last night," Regan started in a completely random non sequitur, "I've been meaning to ask you about something you said."

Emma turned to look at her ludicrously. " When were we talking about that?"

Regan grinned, guilelessly. "Guess I was just thinking about it." She barreled on, "So, anyway, you said something I thought was interesting – you said that you thought Samantha should potentially keep Chelsea around as a contestant even though they haven't necessarily connected as deeply as Samantha's connected with several of the other contestants still there."

Even though Emma was still unsure how they'd gotten onto this topic, she was willing to take any distraction she could take. "Right," she slowly said, switching gears in her mind to focus on the show.

Honestly, it made Emma feel a little embarrassed. She'd doggedly avoided watching any reality television for literal decades, looking at it with no small amount of disdain. And now, she was several seasons deep into watching a reality dating show with Regan and enjoying it.

But she couldn't deny that she was. "All I was saying is that I think that Chelsea is worth Samantha keeping around for a little while longer because she's the person Samantha is most attracted to. They haven't had that much time one-on-one to explore it, so… I don't know; it feels like a little bit of a waste to send her home so soon when she feels such a physical connection."

"Hmm," Regan hummed softly, watching Emma closely. Closely enough that it made her stomach start to squirm. "So, is that how your past relationships started, then? Because you were really attracted to them?"

Emma thought she might have whiplash by the end of this conversation. "I thought we were talking about The One ? When did it become about me?"

However, Regan's gaze was unwavering as she dropped a hand on Emma's thigh. "I'm distracting you. It's a distraction technique."

She did her best to stop herself from shivering at the touch. Which didn't work, so she switched to hoping Regan didn't notice and wouldn't comment on it.

This was a part of her strange behavior, though!

All of the touching in the last few days. While Regan was always very tactile, Emma felt like it had somehow shifted this past week. Post-head injury. Rather than Regan landing a hand on her knee as they would sit and talk, she touched Emma's thigh. Rather than bump shoulders together with a joke, she seemed to… cuddle in?

Granted, it wasn't all that different from how she'd been in the weeks before. So, maybe Regan was just being Regan , and maybe it was Emma who was different.

Maybe her mind was catching up with the fact that her body was so damn attracted to Regan.

"So?" Regan prompted her as she stroked her thumb along the inside of her thigh.

Emma inhaled sharply, disguising it as a cough.

If Emma didn't know any better, she'd have to believe Regan was doing this to her on purpose! Was Regan teasing her?

She stared back at Regan, wondering…

"Uh – no," she answered, trying to get herself back on track. Well, back on track with this weird avenue of conversation, anyway.

"What was it, then? That drew you to people, if not attraction?" Regan asked, leaning in as her eyebrows furrowed slightly. It was a look of utter concentration.

Emma felt her cheeks flush as she thought about Felicity. About the na?ve way she'd viewed her in the beginning. "I mean, there was attraction," she hedged. "It was just about other stuff, too."

Regan leaned in even closer, only inches away, as she clearly waited for Emma to elaborate.

Which she did, sighing. "She was my TA, my sophomore year. I thought she was so… so smart. Passionate. I really respected her."

"Respect, the ultimate panty-dropper," Regan murmured.

Emma continued to stare because Regan wasn't teasing. At least she wasn't speaking in one of her joking tones. It was… thoughtful.

And the longer Regan stared at her like that, the more Emma's face heated.

"Well, what about you?" She turned the question on Regan, needing the focus to be off of her.

"Me? What about me?"

"Your past relationships, how did they start?" As soon as the question left her lips, she found that she was utterly riveted by the answer. Because, shockingly, she knew next to nothing about Regan's dating life.

How had that happened?

Regan shrugged. "I haven't really had relationships."

Emma could only stare in disbelief. "Come on."

"I'm serious," Regan insisted.

"That's not… that doesn't make sense." This time, she turned to study Regan closely, trying to reconcile that information. And trying not to think too hard about the fact that not too long ago, Emma would have probably said something like can't imagine why not .

But, as she stared at Regan, she really couldn't imagine why not.

"Why doesn't it make sense?" Regan asked, staring at Emma with just as much confusion as Emma was feeling.

"I–" Damn, she really should have let that be , feeling the embarrassment sweep through her. "Just that, you know. You're straightforward, you're fun, you're… pleasing to the eye."

Regan's eyebrows lifted, a smile playing at her mouth. "Oh? Pleasing to the eye?"

Rather than push and needle her, Regan leaned back with a little smirk on her face. A very attractive little smirk, something Emma had never seen.

Emma huffed out a breath, leaning back into her own seat and staring forward as she waited for the blush on her cheeks to fade.

She could feel Regan shrug against her. "There've been some guys that I've had things with. Relationship-lite. But I don't know. Dating in the age of apps… sucks. For most of us that aren't Sutton, anyway. It's all non-answers and half-assed conversations."

Emma slowly nodded. "Is a real relationship even something you want?"

There really was so much she didn't know about Regan. And now that she'd thought about all of the romantic relationship aspects, she found that she really wanted to know.

She turned to face Regan again, watching as she nodded. "Yeah. I do." She dug her perfect teeth into her lip as she looked up at Emma, eyes glinting and bright. "So, for my first official role as girlfriend – how am I doing?"

Emma swallowed hard, holding Regan's gaze with her own. Finding it difficult to look away.

She was incredibly grateful as the subway came to a stop, giving her something else to focus on as she stood up. "Well, this is us."

As Emma led them out of the subway station and down the sidewalk, those nerves that Regan had successfully distracted her from returned.

As if on cue, Regan commented, "All right. I can literally see the anxiety rolling off of you in waves."

"I know that this isn't the same thing as meeting Kimberly, but Emma, it's going to be completely fine." Regan reached out and squeezed Emma's hand before rubbing her thumb over the back of it.

Much like last weekend at her mother's house, Emma – crazily – felt it was so soothing. Rather than say anything else, Regan silently stared down at their hands.

Emma swiftly tugged at their interlocked hands to pull Regan away from where she was about to walk right into a telephone pole.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked for at least the tenth time this week.

Regan snapped her eyes back up to Emma's. "Fine – me? Fine. Anyway, your grandmother met Felicity , right?" Regan said her ex's name with an inflection that Emma couldn't quite decipher, having never heard it from her before.

Weird.

"Yes. Several times." The reminder wasn't making her feel much better, especially as she could so clearly recall the uncomfortable quiet that would fall between Gram and Felicity, neither seeming able to nor interested in coming up with conversation topics.

"And Felicity was… well-educated, organized, responsible, and ambitious," Regan recited, listing the adjectives off. "I'll just pretend to be those things, only better. So you won't catch any flack from being with me."

The guilt that dug into Emma at Regan's words – at Emma's own words being parroted back at her – was startling. Quite literally, it made her stumble over her steps at how strongly she felt it slam into her. This time, it wasn't even guilt at kicking a puppy; it was real shame. About hurting Regan . "I shouldn't have said that before. And definitely not the way it came out."

Regan shrugged. "We've moved on. I'm not saying it to throw it in your face."

Emma used their still entwined hands to pull Regan to a gentle stop, feeling an urgency for Regan to hear her. "I know you aren't; that's not the point. The point is – you don't need to pretend to be anything, okay? You're smart, loyal, funny, and kind, and this will probably go better because you aren't like Felicity." The raw honesty escaped her, propelled by that heavy feeling in her stomach. By the need to make Regan know that she meant it. "Felicity would never do what you're doing for me."

And as embarrassing as that truth was for Emma to admit, it was the truth.

"Well, why would you have needed your real girlfriend to pretend to be your girlfriend?" Regan asked, and the smile on her lips looked like something she'd wear while joking around, but her voice was hoarse.

And Emma didn't laugh. "What I mean is that she wouldn't have gone along with some silly scheme, even if it would have meant the world to me. She wouldn't have sacrificed so much of her own time just to do something to help me out of an emotional bind. She, honestly, would have been very judgmental around the fact that I found myself in this situation in the first place just because I was afraid to face my own mother."

Emma looked at Regan earnestly. Very much needing her to see that Emma didn't have the same stubborn beliefs about her, anymore. "So, I mean it. Don't dwell on anything I said in the past, please. Because if you're you , it'll probably go a lot better."

Even though she'd said her comments with the sole intention of making Regan feel better, she realized as she finished speaking that it had made her feel better at the same time.

Because… yeah, Regan wasn't Felicity.

And maybe they weren't really in a relationship, but she couldn't imagine that Regan would fall into awkward and uncomfortable silences with her gram, unable to find anything to talk about; Regan could talk to anyone. She couldn't imagine that Gram would think Regan was pretentious and rude because it was simply true.

The grin on Regan's face was more an additional sunbeam than anything else, and Emma's cheeks heated at being the recipient of it.

"Anyway." Emma cleared her throat. "We're almost there, so we should…"

Regan fell into step next to her jauntily. Nearly skipping, as she agreed, "Don't want to be late!"

Regan only let go of Emma's hand as they entered Primrose Grove, so she could sign in at the front desk.

"This place looks really nice," Regan whispered, leaning her entire body into Emma's.

Ostensibly so that her voice didn't carry, but Emma swallowed thickly at the proximity just the same.

"I didn't expect this when I imagined your grandmother in a nursing home."

"It's not a nursing home," Emma corrected, steel in her tone, after finishing their sign-in. She shuddered about how much her gram would detest if Regan said she lived in a nursing home. "It's an assisted living facility – and the assistance depends on what the resident needs. A ton of people live here who don't need any daily assistance, like my gram."

As she was wont to do, Regan accepted Emma's information with an easy nod. "Ah. So, it's just like a place for older people to hang together. Like a fancy, elderly dorm."

Emma's mouth pulled into a laughing smile; honestly – shockingly – she really did like the way Regan saw the world sometimes.

Regan beamed back at her, obviously pleased with herself, before her gaze landed on something over Emma's shoulder. She pointed eagerly. "Ohhhh, there's a buffet dinner and bingo tonight! That should be fun."

Emma turned to follow where she was pointing, and she ended up staring at the large calendar on the lobby wall, which was lined with events that Primrose Grove was putting on. Indeed, in bright, colorful letters, there was a notice for a buffet/bingo night, inviting all residents to come and join in.

"We probably won't be going," she informed her regretfully. And the regret ran deep – first because she desperately wished her gram would try to be more involved. Second, because the excited gleam in Regan's eyes dimmed a little.

"Your grandmother's not much of a joiner?"

"It's not – she is . I mean, she could be. If she was more comfortable, she would be. She's always been very…" How could Emma explain the intricacies of her gram? Especially so that an extrovert like Regan would understand. "Reserved. Shy, even."

Emma wondered why no one ever talked about that; she never heard about what happened to older people who grew from shy, reserved youths into shy, reserved elderly.

"She led a fairly regimented life, surrounded by the same people for decades, before she had to move here earlier this year because she had a heart attack. A second heart attack," she amended, her stomach twisting as she so easily recalled the phone call she'd received from their old neighbor, delivering the news.

"Before, she always participated in events in her community, where she was comfortable. She worked at Rettol Academy–"

"Oh, so that's why you went there," Regan cut in, nodding as this information dawned on her.

Emma snapped her mouth shut as she eyed Regan in confusion. "I mean – yes. But how did you know that?" Emma didn't often discuss her pre-college days; it wasn't all that interesting.

"Your mom had a picture at her house from your senior year," Regan informed her.

Which – duh . Emma had spotted the picture, too. And she wasn't surprised anymore that Regan was so observant.

Still, the knowledge that Regan seemed to see everything about her made Emma's stomach flutter, and she quickly pushed past it.

"So – yeah. She worked under the headmaster for over forty years, living in the same apartment complex. It was easy for her to take part in community nights and get-togethers. But… it's been different here," she finished quietly.

The sympathy on Regan's face made Emma feel very seen. Even before Regan surmised, "And you're worried about her."

Emma automatically wanted to deny that – no, she wasn't worried about her grandmother. Her gram was strong and independent, and she raised Emma all on her own. But… she found that she didn't want to lie to Regan. That it felt impossible, on the receiving end of that imploring gaze.

"Yeah. I am," she admitted, softly. "But don't bring that up to her. Please."

She knew how much Gram would hate being spoken of like that, especially to someone she didn't know.

"Sure. Clearly, you get your need for privacy somewhere, and it obviously wasn't from Kimberly."

The scoff that burst from Emma's lips at that was loud. Loud enough to garner several looks from residents walking by, prompting Emma to turn it into a cough, clearing her throat. "We should head to her room."

"Lead the way." Regan gestured for Emma to lead. And – strangely – she stayed a pace behind for the walk all the way down the hall. Which was fine , technically, but she swore she could feel Regan's eyes on her, and it made Emma feel a tingle at the back of her neck.

When she peered over her shoulder at Regan, trying not to look as suspicious as she felt, Regan's gaze snapped up to meet hers, and she had a smile that looked… too innocent? Was that a thing?

She stopped in front of her gram's suite, and Regan drew up next to her. As if she'd walked with her the whole time.

Before she could give Regan any last-minute instructions – what, exactly, Emma wasn't sure – or even knock, the door opened.

Gram stood before them, with her long, white hair pulled back into her signature bun, a look she'd worn almost daily for Emma's entire life, in her straight-legged jeans and light blue button-down. She'd worn the same outfit in slightly different color variations on every single non-workday for… ever.

As always, seeing her brought Emma a rush of comfort. Even now, with the nerves still swimming through her.

"Gram! Were you waiting by the door?" She joked, bending down and pecking her grandmother on the soft, thin skin of her cheek, as she always did.

"Only when I realized you were two minutes later than you'd said to expect you," Gram returned, patting Emma's shoulder.

"Emma does have the pathological need to always be early," Regan chimed in with a ridiculously warm, indulgent smile as she looked up at Emma.

She felt her stomach flutter because… wow , seriously, Regan was so good at this.

When Gram slightly raised her eyebrows at her – undoubtedly expecting Emma to use the manners Gram had taught her – she blushed, jumping into action. "Gram, this is Regan Gallagher. My girlfriend."

Okay, that rolled off of her tongue easier than she'd expected. Especially to her grandmother, someone she never lied to.

Grateful for it, she turned to Regan and gestured at her gram, who stood barely five feet tall with her head coming up to Emma's chin. "And Regan, this is my gram. Sheryl Bordeaux."

"You can call me Sherry," her gram insisted, aiming a small, crooked smile at Regan.

Emma could read her grandmother like a book, and she knew that her gram was wondering the best way to greet Regan. A handshake? A warm pat on the back or shoulder, as she tended to do with Emma? A simple wave? Introductions had never been her grandmother's strong suit.

It seemed any worry was superfluous, though, as Regan decided for them both. She went right in for a hug, the move fluid and natural. Emma could read the surprise on her gram's face before she wrapped her arms around Regan's waist, patting her softly on the back.

Even when Regan pulled back, she lightly cupped her gram's elbows, smiling that enchantingly sunny smile. "You can just call me Regan."

Gram chuckled, nodding as she did so. "That sounds good; easy to remember, at the very least."

"I guess you're right," Regan agreed, removing her hands from her gram only to slide one arm through Gram's, linking elbows. "And I would really love a tour of your place if you don't mind. I'm not sure if Emma's told you, but I have a bit of a nosy nature."

Was Emma crazy, or was Regan… charming? Like, truly, genuinely charming ? With that slightly self-deprecating, slightly unashamed grin and the candid way she announced her nosiness?

"A tour of this old place? If that's what you want…" Gram trailed off, looking at Emma briefly with an undecipherable glance before turning her attention back to Regan. "Emma didn't tell me about your curious nature, though."

She trailed her grandma and Regan through the suite. Which wasn't large , but it was enough for her gram's preferred belongings and favorite furniture.

"This is mostly, well, it ." Gram concluded as they circled back into the kitchenette a minute later.

"It's so great to see where Emma disappears to for hours every weekend," Regan stated with such verve that it was impossible to think she wasn't telling the truth.

"Well, it's not much," her gram muttered, in a tone that dug into Emma's heart every time she heard it. A tone that reflected how deeply Gram missed the apartment she'd called home for nearly forty years, the one she'd moved into after marrying Emma's grandfather.

Regan wheeled around, staring at Gram like she was crazy. "Shut up; this place is fucking amazing. I didn't even know that there were places like this that existed before I knew you lived here!"

Emma held in a chortle, knowing Regan's knowledge had only been expanded ten minutes ago.

"Seriously, I love the idea of living in this kind of micro-community. Is there an age cap? Isn't it ageist to keep me out of living here?" If the comments came from anyone other than Regan, Emma would have thought it was corny. She would have rolled her eyes because the words alone sounded like a ridiculous suck-up.

But Regan didn't sound ridiculous or corny. She sounded so eager and earnest that it made both Emma and her gram laugh.

"You can feel free to take my place if you want." Gram offered, "I'll move into your apartment with Emma."

Immediately, Regan vehemently shook her head. "Uh… sorry. I have to rescind the comment. I'm not ready to give up living with Emma; I just got her."

In a fluid move, she slid out of her linked arm with Gram and returned to Emma's side. True to Regan fashion, she stood close enough for their bodies to brush as she reached down to lace her fingers through Emma's.

Emma's cheeks heated again, and she instinctively flexed her fingers around Regan's as she thought once more: Regan was so good at this.

Her gram seemed satisfied with that response as she gave a small nod.

"Why don't we sit?" She gestured at her small kitchen table. "We can get to know one another a bit more."

"Actually, before we go that," Regan jumped in before anyone moved. "I was hoping I could get a tour of the whole place? If you wouldn't mind? Like I said, I'm really nosy."

The winning smile on her face could have melted a solid block of ice. It was clearly enough to melt through her gram's resistance to leaving the security of her suite as Gram slowly nodded, "Sure; it would be good to get some more walking in today."

"Great!" Regan squeezed Emma's hand, sending her a wink as Gram walked past them toward the door.

Emma's breath caught in her throat, her own smile freezing in place. What was that about?

She didn't have time to ponder it, as Regan tugged her along out into the main hallway.

"So, Sherry, I'm dying for you to tell me more about yourself," Regan stated, her voice so encouraging, as they started walking.

Emma disengaged so that the three of them didn't take up the entire hallway, walking a couple of steps back.

Her grandmother sent Regan a surprised look, eyebrows furrowed.

"I mean, Emma has already told me about you – you gave her those beautiful hummingbirds and her favorite opal ring, which was a gift from your husband. That you worked at Rettol Academy. I know you raised Emma like a boss." She turned that quick smile up at Emma, so brief but so full . "But I feel like I don't know enough about you , you know? What do you like to do?"

There was a small flush on her gram's cheeks at having Regan's direct and persistent attention on her. But Emma didn't intervene because she believed her gram looked… pleased.

"Well, uh. Hmm," Gram hummed thoughtfully before she shrugged. "I've always liked knitting. When Emma was little, I made her the cutest hat; she wore it every winter until it started to unravel."

Regan aimed another look at her over her gram's head, eyes glinting. And Emma couldn't do anything other than smile .

"I enjoy a fun game–"

"Oh, what kind?"

Sherry chuckled at Regan's eagerness. "Cards, mostly. It's always fun to try my hand at most card games."

Emma scoffed loudly. "Oh, you suppose ? Don't listen to her; she's a shark, and she will take you for literally everything you have."

Her gram sent her a look over her shoulder. "Emma must really like you, being so willing to tell you about my secrets like that."

Emma's heart skipped a beat as she ducked her head, rolling her lips so she couldn't disagree. Why would she disagree, anyway?! She wanted her gram to think she was crazy about Regan.

"I'd love to play against you sometime," Regan offered, bringing her gram's attention back to her.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she muttered.

"Why don't you tell me more about you ?" Gram urged Regan.

It was only here, at this moment, that Emma finally recognized that look in her gram's eyes. The measuring one, waiting to see which way the scale tipped in terms of Regan. Was she good enough for Emma? Was she the right one?

Emma's stomach clenched again, and she made herself blow out a breath. It didn't matter that this wasn't real. Because Gram thought it was.

So, it did matter to her, what her gram thought of Regan. She wanted, she realized in this moment, very badly for Gram to approve of Regan. Because she did.

Not to date, she mentally backpedaled. Given that Regan was straight. Yes, total straight-woman vibes all of the time. Most of the time, anyway. When she wasn't being… odd.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything, really. Emma hasn't told me all that much," her gram tossed Emma another look, making Emma's stomach sink.

Was this the moment? Did her gram doubt this… this sham? Was she onto Emma lying to her?

"I don't mean offense," Gram added, turning her attention back to Regan. She looked contrite.

But Regan waved her off, chuckling. "That sounds right; Emma isn't much for sharing unless you make her."

Gram laughed. Emma furrowed her eyebrows, "Hey!"

Because – she'd shared! She'd shared a lot with Regan in the last few weeks. She'd told her about Kimberly, Gram, her book reviewing account, stories about her job, Felicity, her love of magazines, the Alton Fellowship, her feelings on their TV shows, and her insecurities.

Startled by her own thoughts, Emma nearly stumbled over her feet. She had shared a lot with Regan, and she hadn't even noticed how much.

"You're exactly right," Gram confirmed, much to Emma's chagrin. "I guess I hadn't realized I was supposed to be asking." Her voice took on that thoughtful quality as she tilted her head to the side and studied Regan's profile.

It was the same look she wore when she was trying to puzzle out which was the best decision in a card game, and Emma couldn't, for the life of her, figure out what she was thinking about Regan.

"Then again, you do look familiar," Gram murmured.

Emma stumbled over her own two feet, catching herself on the handrail that lined the hallway. The cold bolt of fear struck through her.

Oh. Oh no .

Regan shrugged, entirely unaware of Emma's distress. "I get that a lot." She brought her free hand up, tapping at her chin. "I'm from Newton – just outside of Boston. Born and raised there. Well, actually, I lived in Springfield – western Mass. – until I was seven. Then, we moved to Newton. I went to college for a year in Massachusetts, but… it wasn't for me. So, I moved here because my best friend lived here."

Emma was just as interested in Regan's life story as her grandmother.

"Sutton," her gram mused. Which made sense, as Emma had told her several stories that involved Sutton over the last couple of years. Usually quick mentions of weekend plans or tales about their adventures being teaching assistants.

Regan's smile flashed over her face. "Yes! Exactly. Um, in the last year, I've really come to find that I enjoy baking."

"She's really good at it," Emma added, remembering how vulnerable Regan had been when she'd shared that with Emma.

The pleased flush that slid over Regan's face made her feel satisfied.

Her gram's eyes lit up. "A baker! How would you feel about making a cake? Everly's birthday is next Sunday, and the woman Kimberly hired for the cake and all of the desserts literally just canceled this morning – something about a family emergency, and she has to fly to Iowa? I was on the phone with her before you arrived, and she's a mess wondering how to fill the gap on such short notice."

Right. At the world's most awkward family dinner, her mom had mentioned that Everly was having a pool party next weekend. An invite had been offered to Emma and Regan, but she hadn't really responded.

"Oh," Regan's lips formed a perfect circle, and she looked thrown off for the first time since they'd arrived. "I've never really been responsible for an event before."

Gram shook her head. "Kimberly won't mind; in fact, she'll probably want to hire you even more because of it."

Regan's wide, dark eyes slid to meet Emma's, her uncertainty clear.

"It's all right if you don't want to," her gram said assuredly. "And it is very last minute."

"No, it's… I mean, it is. It's not that I don't want to do it, I just…" Regan blinked down at her gram before looking at Emma once more. Searching. Asking.

"If you want to do it, you should do it," Emma said, trying to breathe through the knot in her stomach before it could really form.

"Does that mean you're coming?" Gram asked, turning to face her as well. There was an excited light in her eyes that needled right into Emma.

It combined with how she could hear Kimberly saying I know you hate me and how Everly had stared at Emma like she'd hung the moon at dinner. The way she'd told her mom that she would try, and how she'd meant it.

"Yeah," she whispered before clearing her throat and speaking louder. "Yes, I'm going to the party."

The party seemed like a good way to start trying , after all. Her mom and sisters would be preoccupied with other activities, other people. Emma would have time to simply exist there, trying to find her footing.

Regan's gaze – which saw more than Emma wanted to allow – stayed on her for several more seconds. She only looked away when Emma nodded at her, feeling as sure as she could about it.

"In that case, yeah, I'll totally do the desserts."

"That is amazing . I'll give you Kimberly's number later." Gram positively beamed as they turned the corner at the end of the hallway.

The hallway that had the large rec room off to the right side, where the people were starting to settle in at tables for the buffet/bingo affair.

"You know what, Sherry? I, too, love games!" Regan announced, coming to a stop as she admired the setup in front of them. "And it seems we've stumbled right into one. What do you say?"

She turned to face Gram with such a hopeful look that saying no really would have felt – again – like kicking a puppy.

Her grandmother paused, looking apprehensively around the room. "Well. I don't know… it doesn't seem there's a lot of seats left…"

"Right there!" Regan pointed to a table with three open spots to their left. Two others were taken by two of the women Emma regularly saw hanging out in the common areas.

Without hesitation, Regan walked over to the table. "Hey, are these seats taken?"

"Who's asking?" One of the women asked, while her friend crowed with laughter and pushed her arm.

"Don't listen to her, honey, they're free."

"Awesome! And I'm asking – I'm Regan, by the way."

"You're a little young to live here," the first woman surmised as her friend rolled her eyes.

"You're right, but I'm trying to get the hang of it early. Oh, and my girlfriend – Emma – her gram lives here." She gestured to where Emma and her grandmother stood several feet back. "Sherry Bordeaux, you know her? She's competitive as all hell – so I hear – though, so that should be your biggest concern."

"We've seen her around," the second woman – the cackler – said, offering Emma and her gram a wave. "I'm Bea, and this grumpy old broad is Phoebe. Come on over!"

Emma led her gram to the table, who gave a tentative smile to the women. "Ah… nice to meet you."

"Nice to see you finally come out of your cave," Phoebe responded, laughing lightheartedly.

Her gram breathed out a chuckle.

" Shush ," Bea hit her friend's shoulder. "It can take a while to adjust; we get it. My biggest piece of advice to you, Sherry, is at buffet night? You should get in line early."

Gram offered a small smile. "Thank you, I'll do that."

"Early meaning now , by the way," Phoebe cut in, nudging Bea with her elbow as she nodded to the buffet set up. "Come on, I can't be stuck behind Gary again."

They hustled to the buffet line as Emma, Regan, and her gram watched.

Regan grinned broadly. "I like them! They seem nice. And I always appreciate a good tip about beating a line." She ran her gaze over the rest of the room, landing on the beverage station on the other side of the room. "Ohhh, let's grab drinks first. I'll go – what would you like?"

Gram's eyebrows drew together before lifting high on her forehead, looking like some sort of realization. "Right! I finally remember…" She ran her eyes over Regan's face again, her smile knowing. "It all makes sense."

The fear from minutes ago struck all over again, and Emma's eyes widened with it. No. No, no.

Regan's confusion was palpable as she threw a look at Emma. Who shook her head back. No .

"You're the barista," Gram asserted, her tone imbued with understanding.

Those terror erupted in nervous butterflies. "Yeah, she's a barista." Emma tried to head off where she knew this was going.

But, unsurprisingly, her gram wouldn't be dissuaded. Not when she looked like everything had finally come together for her as she stared at Regan, her smile growing.

"I'll be honest with you, Regan. I was very confused by this whole… situation. By Emma not ever mentioning your relationship to me, before. Emma's a good girl; she's got a level head."

"Thanks, Gram," she interjected, hoping that she could derail anything coming next. "Why doesn't Regan go get those drinks?"

Regan, this time, was the one who ignored her. She wore a small, understanding grin. "I know; Emma has been really private about our relationship."

"Even so." Her gram shook her head. "I realize, now, that it wasn't out of the blue." She turned to look at Emma, a look that was both excited and understanding reflecting in her gaze. "I wish you'd told me that your little crush on the barista had becoming something more."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her face heat so quickly and strongly that she was sure smoke must have been exiting her ears. Those butterflies in her stomach morphed into something more akin to frogs.

Maybe, she hoped – stupidly and desperately – that Regan wouldn't push it. Maybe Regan would do the least Regan thing in the world, and –

"Crush?" Regan echoed, sounding utterly mystified.

Emma tried to hold in a groan.

"That's why you looked so familiar when you walked in earlier. I couldn't quite put my finger on it." Her gram looked between Emma and Regan. "The summer before Emma started her TA job, she'd finally showed me around campus, her favorite spots. And we went into your coffee shop… Tipped On?"

"Topped Off," Regan corrected, looking like she was a kid on Christmas morning.

Emma wanted to bury her face in her hands. Actually, she wanted to bury her entire body in the ground.

"Right, Topped Off. And she pointed you out."

"She pointed me out," Regan echoed, the amazement dripping from her tone.

"Like I said, it all makes more sense for me now," Gram finished with an accepting nod.

Well, Emma was glad her grandmother was finding peace, and at the same time, she was simultaneously making Emma regret her life.

"Regan, why don't you go get those drinks?" Emma suggested abruptly. "Why don't I help you?"

Yes. She needed to separate Regan from her grandmother before this got even more out of hand. That was priority number one, and what she focused on as she put her hand on Regan's lower back to make her start walking away.

She needed to use a little more oomph than she'd expected because Regan seemed to be glued to the spot.

"You had a crush on me?" Regan wasted no time in asking, staring up at Emma in wonder.

Emma's heart fluttered as her stomach clenched and her legs felt a little weak, and she remembered vividly how she'd felt in freshman year when she'd gotten paired to work on her science project with Christy Logan, the prettiest girl at their school.

"No," she quickly denied, vehemently shaking her head. She tossed a look over her shoulder at her grandmother, who had finally taken her seat at their table and was looking over her bingo card.

"You're calling your grandmother a liar, then?"

"No!" She denied, again, pressing her palms to her cheeks and wishing they would return to a regular body temperature. "I – it wasn't a real crush ," she hissed, staring Regan down. "It was… I just…" How did she possibly explain this and get out of this situation without making a fool out of herself?! "I was going through a shitty time because Felicity had broken up with me, and I'd started going to Topped Off, and I thought you were cute. That's all ."

Really, that was it. Basically.

Regan gasped, her mouth falling open with a smile of shocked delight. "You thought I was cute?!"

Emma squeezed her eyes closed, cursing her gram for the first time in her life. "Like that's news."

"It is to me! And I would like to know more. Everything, actually."

"There's nothing more to tell! I obviously think you're attractive, Regan. I've told you that before. Like when we were going to Kimberly's, and you were wearing…" She trailed off, swallowing thickly. As she often did when the scantily-clad image of Regan appeared in her mind's eye.

Which happened disturbingly frequently.

It wasn't Emma's fault , not really! Not when she was living with Regan and had constant reminders all of the damn time about how much her body betrayed her and responded to Regan.

"You thinking that I'm not bad looking and you being attracted to me are two very different things," Regan corrected, shaking her head slowly. As if she just couldn't get over what she'd heard.

There was a gleam in her eyes that Emma didn't understand, didn't trust.

"It's not a big deal ," she grit out, pouring her gram a glass of water. Unfortunately, in this moment, she was having trouble convincing herself of how not a big deal this was.

But it wasn't a big deal; people had meaningless, irrational, silly "crushes" on random people in their daily routines all of the time. People you see on the subway on your work commute, the person that lives down the hall from you that you exchange a smile with but don't ever really talk.

Baristas, with bright smiles who always remember your order.

Then, those crushes fade. Because you realize the person on the subway has gross politics. Or the neighbor moves away.

Or because the barista spills coffee down your shirt and proceeds to pop up in your life to constantly remind you that you two don't work as a duo in the real world.

"Big enough deal for you to tell your grandmother about it," Regan's response was cheeky and downright jaunty. In fact, Emma felt as though Regan might start floating away with her glee.

God, of course, Regan was having a field day with this.

"I – it was because she was worried about my getting over Felicity. So, I told her that I knew I was starting to move on… because I was attracted to you. That's it." She haltingly explained.

Still, the smile didn't leave Regan's face. In fact, she was grinning so widely, so brightly, Emma wondered if it would ever fade.

"It was before you spilled the coffee on me and ripped my shirt open, so I didn't really know you," she added for good measure.

Regan shrugged both of her shoulders, clearly unbothered by the fact.

Somehow, Regan's excitement in learning about Emma's attraction – she would not call it a crush – calmed Emma a little. At the very least, Regan was never awkward or uncomfortable and would never hold it against Emma. If anything, she seemed… thrilled.

"I'm going back to the table now." She needed a second away from Regan's insanely beautiful, too-excited smile. Damn her grandmother!

"I'll get us a place in the buffet line, sweetheart!" Regan called after her.

Emma took a deep breath at how her stomach clenched in that not-entirely-unpleasant way.

Finally able to take a deep, butterfly-free breath, she walked back to the table and placed the glass down in front of her gram. "Here you go. I'll, uh, I'll join Regan in the line in a second to grab us dinner in a second."

She couldn't help but toss a glance toward Regan, who continued to absolutely beam . Even as she animatedly spoke to the woman next to her in line, she was grinning around her words.

All because of a so-called crush that Emma didn't even have anymore! Even if you could call it a crush in the first place… which she wouldn't have.

"I admit, honey, I was a little concerned. When I'd heard about this relationship. Worried that maybe you'd rushed into something or… I don't know. But I really like Regan," Gram said, placing her hand over Emma's and giving her a warm squeeze.

"I really like her, too." Only after she spoke was she struck by how sincerely she meant that.

She couldn't stop herself from looking over at Regan once more. This time, Regan was already staring at her. Still smiling.

Emma could only blink back at her, her heart beating a little harder in her chest as if buzzed to life by the exuberance of that grin. Weird.

Still, she stared. Regan was funny, unguarded, and observant… mostly, she was a joy to exist in the same sphere with, and Emma really liked her. She liked her enough that it was unsettling when she really thought about it.

"I'd hope so." Gram chuckled, pulling her out of her own thoughts.

Emma pulled her gaze away from Regan, managing out a chuckle. "Right."