Chapter 4

four

When Sutton had lived in the room across from Regan's, the weekend mornings that she didn't have work were fun . They were times she looked forward to.

Mornings where she and Sutton could enjoy coffee together and decompress from the week, watch some television, enjoy one another's company. She hadn't had a cozy, pleasant weekend morning hanging out with her roommate in over a month.

Quite frankly, it was driving her crazy.

As she sat in the kitchen, thoughtfully sipping her coffee Sunday morning, she had to admit something to herself: this living situation was approaching DEFCON 1 levels.

The last week of living in uncomfortable timidity had put Regan on edge, and she wasn't quite sure how long she could continue living like this.

Not to be dramatic, but she was going crazy .

Getting Emma to go grocery shopping with her had been an unexpected and very welcome twist, but it had left Regan feeling more unsettled than anything.

Because running into Emma's… ex-girlfriend? Ex-lover? Ex-whatever had led to the only meaningful interaction Regan had shared with the person she'd lived with in what felt like forever. And she would only qualify it as meaningful because she'd learned something brand new about Emma.

But Emma hadn't even wanted to share it with her!

Emma was into women! Was she bi? A lesbian? Queer? Regan had no clue how she identified. She had no idea how the woman she literally shared a nine-hundred-square-foot apartment with identified her sexual orientation.

"It's so weird ," she muttered, shaking her head as she paced across the kitchen.

Weird enough that she'd fixated on it all night, long after they'd returned home, and Emma had ducked into her bedroom. Weird enough that it sat uncomfortably in her stomach, and that feeling had woken Regan up at six o'clock.

Six o'clock! On a Sunday morning, when she didn't have to be at work until this afternoon!

That wasn't normal and she most definitely did not care for it.

Everything about their living situation made Regan desperate for change.

"Only, what can I do?" She asked herself, spinning on her heel to face the kitchen counter and the miniature French fruit tarts she'd made this morning.

The custard she'd made had set very nicely and was holding up impressively well under the fruit slices. The last time she'd attempted a classic French fruit tart, her shortbread had cracked, and her custard had been just a little too loose. That tester recipe had still gone over well at the café, but these … oh, she was sure these were going to do even better. Being awake so early this morning had been good for one thing, at least.

Carefully, she placed them inside their containers to put into the fridge. At least something was doing well, while she was floundering.

She had no problem admitting she didn't do well when left to her own devices for too long. When she didn't have a person to rely on. To quality spend time with and feel close to.

Not romantically; Regan's romantic endeavors that lasted longer than a couple weeks could be counted on one hand, and she'd very rarely ever felt truly connected to them. But… she needed to feel a connection to someone. Without it, she felt so untethered.

She'd always had a tether in Sutton. Even when Regan was at her most impulsive and chaotic moments – which, admittedly… there were quite a few of those times – Sutton was there for her. She was never too much for Sutton, even when Regan knew she exasperated her.

And she knew that she still had Sutton in her life, but having Sutton exist on a different continent, in a different time zone, was so very, very different than having her here .

While she hadn't thought living with Emma would be easy, she'd figured – for some now unknown reason – that they'd settle into a rhythm together.

"Five weeks later? No rhythm." She sighed, slumping against the counter.

Her self-talk was interrupted by a knock on the apartment door, and Regan snapped her head to face the direction of their entryway. Not that she could see the door from the kitchen, but still.

Head cocked to the side, she waited for several moments. Maybe she was hearing things? It wouldn't be the first time she'd mistakenly thought a knock on their neighbor's door was on her own.

After a beat, three more tentative knocks came. Even though they weren't sharp, demanding sounds, they were definitely on Regan's door.

She pushed herself off the counter to glance at the clock on the stove – 9:31. Okay, so she wasn't crazy. Someone was actually knocking on their door before ten in the morning. Given that Emma wasn't awake, it couldn't be for her.

"Besides, nothing's written on that precious calendar, so…" She muttered to herself, then placed her mug down on the counter before she headed for the door.

She peered through the peephole, her eyes landing on a woman standing on their doormat. The woman bounced where she stood, and she seemed… nervous? She had a small white bag in her hands and a large tote bag slung over her shoulder.

"Huh." She hummed to herself, pushing onto her tiptoes as she looked to the left and right of the woman – to her best ability, with the limited view – to ensure she was alone.

Regan had read many horror stories about young women living in apartments, far too many to take no precautions and open the door to a stranger, all willy-nilly.

But it was silent in the hallway, with no hint of another person. And Regan was nothing if not curious.

As the woman lifted her hand to knock again, Regan unlocked and opened the door.

The woman's hand that had been primed to knock dropped to her chest in surprise. "Oh! I didn't expect – hi! Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too," Regan greeted, taking the chance to peer her head out and look up and down the hallway to confirm that they were alone.

Once satisfied that they were, she dropped back to really look at the woman. She was several inches taller than Regan was and older – maybe in her mid-forties? She wore a short skirt, cut off at the thigh, and an animal print blouse with red lipstick. Her hair was obviously dyed, but Regan got the sneaking suspicion that the woman had chosen this muted blonde because it was close to her natural color.

There was something familiar about her, but Regan had no idea where they'd met, if they ever had. Topped Off, maybe? But, that would be weird.

"Are you a solicitor?" Regan couldn't help but ask, dipping her gaze down to the woman's large tote bag. Maybe it was filled with flyers or handouts or a sign-up sheet. "I gotta tell you, there are very few things I'll bite on these days."

Typically, their doorman caught anyone attempting door-to-door canvassing, but sometimes people slipped through the cracks. And Regan was very good at sending them on their way… unless they were selling something she was interested in.

The woman smiled, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling with it, as she let out a confused laugh. "A sol – no. No, I'm not. I'm just looking for Emma Bo Bemma? Er." She shook her head, pushing out a little laugh, "Emma Bordeaux. Is this the right apartment?"

Regan's eyes widened so far that she thought they might fall out of her head as she barked out a laugh. "I'm sorry. Did you say Emma Bo Bemma ?"

She glanced over her shoulder just to see if Emma had heard those cursed words. Deep inside, Regan felt like Emma would have woken from the deepest of sleeps at being referred to in such an unserious way.

Nope, the coast was clear.

The woman's grin settled in, obvious affection in her expression. "I sure did. And you're… Regan?"

She was shocked at the idea that anyone in Emma's – Emma Bo Bemma's – life would know who she was, because Regan simply couldn't imagine Emma willingly offering that information. "Why, yes. Yes, I am. And you're…?"

"Kimberly." She offered her hand. "Kimberly Hayes. I'm Emma's mom."

Regan could literally hear the record scratch in her head, her hand going momentarily limp in that handshake. Maybe she'd misheard?!

"Her mom ?" Yeah, she could hear how doubtful she was in her own tone, but… this was Emma's mom ?

She seemed young. And she smiled a whole damn lot!

Regan hadn't thought much about where Emma had come from, but in this moment, she realized that she'd always assumed Emma came from a very straight-laced, organized background. Much like Emma herself was in everyday life. She'd assumed, honestly, that Emma had come from a family similar to Regan's own.

She eyed the woman – Kimberly – closer: maybe that was why she seemed so familiar. Her height, the icy hue of her eyes, the high, sharp slash of her cheekbones. Regan lived with the person who shared all of those characteristics!

Kimberly's smile faltered, becoming sheepish. "Yes. And I know Emma's been so incredibly busy lately, so I understand if she may not have told you very much about me. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your morning together."

Regan slowly shook her head, laughing at the absurdity of that comment. "Uh, no, you're not interrupting our morning together ."

Emma's mom really had a sense of humor, she'd give her that. She could only imagine what Emma told her family about living with Regan, especially after the allergy disaster.

"Emma's still in bed," Regan explained after a beat, when Kimberly didn't laugh at her own joke. "Given, you know, she's not exactly a morning person."

Not that Regan generally considered herself a morning person, either. She was more of a whatever-sleeping-schedule- fit-the-bill-that-day kind of person. But she definitely managed mornings better than Emma did.

Kimberly laughed, a light, tinkling sound. "Oh, that's always been Emma."

Regan found herself grinning out of the sheer curiosity of this woman, who didn't match Regan's vision of Emma's mother. At all. In any way. What a fascinating twist.

"Do you want to come in?" Regan offered, pulling the door open wider as she stepped back. "Sorry, I should have offered earlier."

"I'd love to!" Kimberly stepped into the entryway, peering around at the pictures on the walls before she looked apologetically at Regan. "I don't mean to be nosy. It's just…" She bit her lip, and those nerves Regan had thought she'd seen while watching Kimberly through the peephole became evident once again. "I'm sure you know this, but I've never really been in Emma's apartment. I just want to take everything in."

Regan's eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. Yeah, absolutely fascinating .

Before she could comment on that, Kimberly let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I mean, I've never met her romantic partners before either, which I'm obviously more excited about."

"You never met Felicity?" Regan asked, her interest notching up even higher.

Regan had always been a curious person. About most everything, but people in particular. And with how very little she actually knew about Emma being highlighted yesterday, she was voracious about learning as much as she could.

"No, I was living in Florida, as I'm sure Emma's told you, and…" She cleared her throat, looking embarrassed as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I'm so happy I get to meet you."

"Yeah, I'm utterly thrilled to meet you, too," Regan returned sincerely.

This was the most in-depth look she'd ever been offered into Emma's life, and she hadn't even done anything rude or invasive to get it!

"You're such a cutie pie; I can see why Emma's so excited about this new phase of your life together."

Regan stared, dumbfounded. "You said – Emma's excited?"

Emma had told her mom she was excited about them living together?! The very thought seemed unimaginable to Regan, but she wouldn't deny that it pleased her. Maybe, somehow, they were turning a corner? Had it been the grocery shopping adventure?

Kimberly scoffed, a wry smile on her lips. "Well, of course! And who wouldn't be? Graduating with her master's, getting a job at a big publication, and moving in with her girlfriend! Those are all amazing milestones, and I'm so happy for her."

Regan could only continue to stare, replaying Kimberly's last few comments.

I've never met her romantic partners before. You're such a cutie pie. Girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

Girlfriend ?

"Girlfriend," Regan repeated, feeling like she was operating much slower than usual. She didn't typically feel like someone else easily pulled a gotcha! on her, but Kimberly came in swinging.

But Kimberly was, like, middle-aged, right? And older people sometimes used the word girlfriend to mean girls that were friends, she reasoned. Which still didn't quite fit her relationship with Emma, but –

Kimberly looked stricken, waving her hand in front of her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I never really asked if that's what you two call one another. Is it better to say partner?"

"Partner," Regan repeated, still unable to comprehend. Because, no. It didn't seem like Kimberly meant to say girlfriend, as in girls who were friends. She seemed to really mean –

"Partners it is! I love how that's become such a mainstream reference for couples nowadays."

Yep. She really meant that Regan and Emma were romantically involved .

Regan stared, silently, for several more seconds. Finally, the sense of bafflement and the need to know what the fuck was going on kicked in, and she snapped out of it.

"Um… you know what? I'm just going to go wake Emma up for you. That crazy sleepyhead."

"Thank you. And let her know that I brought bagels!" Kimberly called after her, shaking the white bag in her hand.

"Sure!" Regan shouted over her shoulder as she rushed down the hallway toward Emma's bedroom.

The door across the hallway from Regan's own was firmly shut, as it always was, now. She'd gone from living with Sutton, who had lived in this very room with an open door ninety percent of the time, to living with someone who acted like her room held state secrets.

After Emma had bit her head off for opening her door a few days after she'd moved in, Regan respected her wishes to treat her room as a restricted area.

Until now. She granted herself permission to go into Emma's room under this circumstance.

She shot Kimberly, who'd watched her charge down the hallway like a crazy woman, a smile before swiftly opening Emma's door without so much as a knock.

"Oh, honey ! Rise and shine!" She called out loud enough for Kimberly to hear her before closing the door with a sharp snap .

Emma groaned from where she lay in her bed.

She was entirely wrapped up in her covers, cocooned tightly in her comforter, so only her head poked out at the top. Kinda cute, all wrapped up like a burrito.

Regan looked around the room, momentarily distracted from her mission.

All of Sutton's belongings had been moved to storage, and Regan hadn't gotten to look around after Emma had settled in from her move. Not really .

Unsurprisingly, everything was neat and tidy. No clothing was on the floor or strewn over the desk chair or anything. The only furniture Emma had brought with her was her bed, a desk, and two bookshelves that were stuffed to the brim. Regan wasn't actually sure she'd ever seen so many books crammed onto shelves; did Emma know about kindles? Oh, and there was a tall plant next to the window. That was a nice touch.

Emma's sheets and pillowcases were a stone gray, and the duvet she was rolled up in like a burrito was a mint green. Cute neutrals.

She turned, taking in the room as a whole before her eyes landed on a giant calendar on the wall. Regan gasped loudly, immediately walking over to it.

"Regan? What are you doing in my room?" Emma's voice behind her was hoarse and raspy from sleep, and Regan found that she very much enjoyed the husky timber of it.

"Emma, do you literally have every second of your life planned on this calendar?" Regan asked, gesturing to the poster board-size calendar next to her.

Every single day was written for the month, with Emma's clear and concise writing listing everything she did. Holy shit.

"Do you know that we have the internet? You could do this in a magic little app on your phone and have it with you all of the time."

"I like to have it written out where I can physically see it," Emma grunted back, seemingly too tired to be aware that she would typically be livid at Regan for barging into her room like this.

It seemed she was more awake by the second, though. She pushed herself onto her elbows to face Regan across the room. "Is there an emergency? Is the building on fire?"

There was a look on Emma's face, like she was torn between being preemptively annoyed with Regan for coming into her room and waking her up, and genuinely concerned there might be something horribly wrong.

Regan shrugged, dropping her hands to her waist. "You know, it's kind of hard to say."

Emma's expression could not be less amused. "Regan, I swear–"

"I guess," Regan swiftly cut in, sending Emma a look . "It all depends on what you call an emergency. See, there I was, minding my own business in our kitchen. Wearing my sleep shorts and ripped tank top – not fit for company, obviously." She gestured to herself. "Drinking my coffee. Contemplating life. The normal things people do on the weekend. When there was a knock on my door."

"Oh my god ." Emma's words came out on a whine as she fell back onto her mattress, bringing her hands up to cover her face. "I'm going to choose to believe that there's not a fire out there, right? Please tell me you aren't keeping us in here because of a fire."

"No fire. Anyway," Regan cleared her throat, and… she didn't quite know at what point in the last couple of minutes her bafflement had mixed with entertainment, but she was highly entertained now. "Imagine my surprise when your mom knocks on the door."

All of Emma's agitation swiftly disappeared, as well as any lingering sleepiness. She sat straight up, her blanket slipping down to her waist as she stared wide-eyed at Regan. "What? My mother is here?"

Regan held up her hand. "No, no, the story isn't over. This part is really interesting: imagine my even bigger surprise when your mom tells me that you and I are in a relationship!"

There.

Satisfied, she crossed her arms and nodded at Emma. "Now it's your turn."

Emma didn't immediately launch into her usual commentary, however. Instead, her jaw went slack as those blue eyes widened even more. When she did speak, she didn't explain. She offered a murmur of, "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Did I miss somewhere in that contract that we're apparently dating?" Honestly, it was the only thing she could think of that made any sort of sense, even though it also didn't.

Emma glared. "Of course not."

"Hey, don't snap at me! I'm not the one who has any fucking clue what is going on!" Regan whisper-shouted, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at Emma's closed door. "It's not my mom that showed up before ten AM on a Sunday morning to blindside us!"

In fairness, Regan's mother had never shown up at her apartment in the entire seven years she'd lived here. Regardless, even though what she said was true, she hadn't expected Emma's response.

Because, typically, Emma was always just so… short with her.

In this moment, though, Emma deflated. Her typical agitation that she wore like a second skin during their interactions was gone, and her shoulders slumped as she bowed her head.

"You're right," she admitted, softly. "I'm sorry."

Regan's eyebrows flew high up on her forehead in surprise. "Wait. Can you repeat that?"

That might have been the most surprising thing to happen all morning! Which was saying quite a bit.

Those startlingly blue eyes narrowed at her again, but Emma still didn't respond angrily. "I said… I'm sorry," she repeated, with that vulnerable edge to her voice.

Emma brought her hands up and scrubbed them over her face, taking a deep breath and holding it, before slowly letting it out.

Finally, she looked back up at Regan. "Long story short: my mom got this idea in her head that we moved in together because we're in a relationship."

"Good thing I already found out that you're queer, or this would be doubly confusing," Regan quipped.

Emma stared at her for a few seconds before her lips ticked into the briefest of smiles. "Yeah, I guess so."

Regan's mouth dropped open as shock coursed through her.

Emma really must be out of her element if she was cracking a grin at one of Regan's jokes during what was obviously a stressful time!

"Can you make a long story a little bit longer? Because my brain is not computing this."

Emma's smile was gone as soon as it came. "Look, things with my mom are complicated, okay? It's really… complicated–"

"Wait – are you saying things with your mom are complicated?"

Emma shot her a dirty look as she trailed a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. "Given how complicated it is, I just went along with her supposition because it made things easier."

As she explained, her tone was something Regan had never heard from her, something raw and very real. Something, when it came to complicated family dynamics, Regan could very much understand.

It was also a side of herself that Emma never showed Regan, which made the exuberant ribbing she desperately wanted to give Emma dim. The impulse was undeniably still present but the prospect of teasing Emma about it seemed remarkably less enjoyable when Emma was giving Regan a rare moment of true, unfiltered connection.

Instead, she – gently – teased, "Well, your situation with your mom must be dire if telling her that you're in a relationship with me was your best choice, huh?"

Emma swore under her breath, throwing her blanket off her as she said, "Clearly, right now, I am regretting it."

Regan watched with interest as Emma stood up with a huff, noting the black sleep shorts that just barely covered her incredibly impressive ass. Regan could do squats every day for months – she had – and never get an ass like Emma's, whose hips, butt, and thighs seemed to have first dibs on any weight she put on. Regan had no idea if Emma appreciated that as much as Regan did. But she should.

Emma didn't often hang out in the common areas of their apartment, so in the last few weeks, Regan hadn't really her in anything less than the bevy of gray, black, and blue professional outfits she wore – slacks and button-ups, a smattering of blazers.

Other than when she'd walked in and had seen Emma standing in the kitchen in her bra, that was. The red lace had surprised Regan – she'd have figured Emma for a much more neutral tone lingerie woman, if she wore lingerie at all.

"In my defense, I didn't expect that she'd ever show up here," Emma continued muttering, and Regan honestly didn't think these words were even meant for her. Especially not as Emma started rifling through her dresser, no longer paying Regan any attention. "Why the hell would I? I don't even know how she got our address!"

Utterly riveted by this rare look at Emma – while she wasn't focused on being pissed at Regan – she was unashamedly curious to hear even more.

Like… Emma had never given her address to her mother? She talked to her enough that her mom got the idea that they were dating , but she wasn't close enough with her mom to tell her where she lived?

Emma snatched a pair of joggers from her drawer, shaking her head. "Gram. Obviously. I just – ugh ."

Regan's eyebrows raised high on her forehead with interest when Emma's hands went to the waistband of her shorts, clearly ready to pull them down. Only to lower again when Emma blew her hair out of her eyes and shot Regan a dark look. "Do you mind not staring at me while I change?"

Shrugging, Regan made a show of turning around and staring at the calendar again. "Well, for a second, I really didn't think you even remembered I was still here."

"And that meant you had permission to watch me strip?" Emma shot back, still lacking her usual Regan-inspired vigor.

"Hey, we're both women here. I've seen Sutton change a million times."

"And, for the millionth time, I'm not Sutton."

Oh my god, did Emma really write her twenty-minute nighttime routine in her calendar? Regan leaned in for a better look, and… yeah. She sure did.

As well as her reading block before sleep.

Wow. That kind of organization was both terrifying and impressive.

"I was also curious to know if you had cute red underwear to match your bra," Regan unthinkingly and honestly remarked, scanning her eyes over the details of Emma's day-to-day life that she normally wasn't privy to.

She could hear Emma pause. "I – just – you… that's none of your business."

Even though Emma couldn't see her face, Regan's mouth dropped open from the sheer shock of Emma not having the mental energy to zing back at her.

She never thought she'd see the day!

Clearly, it was because Emma had re-focused her attention back on the situation at hand. Man, Regan wondered what it was like to have a brain that could prioritize and execute so deftly.

"And, of course, she shows up at an ungodly hour, on a weekend!"

"Ehhh, I agree it's a little early to come calling without prior notice, but I wouldn't necessarily say after nine is ungodly ."

"Whose side are you on?" Emma hissed.

Regan spun around, thrilled. "Wait. Do you want me to be on your side? I think this is a momentous occasion for us."

She could tell from Emma's glare that she took Regan's comment as teasing, but she'd been very serious.

Emma didn't verbally acknowledge her. "And now, not only do I miss out on my day to sleep in, but I also have to go out there and figure out how to tell her – in the most delicate way possible – that I lied to her about my relationship status to avoid spending time with her!"

Regan hadn't known what to expect from Emma beyond it's complicated , but… huh. Okay.

Maybe it was a relief to know that while Emma didn't seek out Regan's company, she seemed to slot higher on Emma's list of preferred company than her mom?

The flush on Emma's cheeks and the obvious stress riddling her expression pushed the words from Regan's mouth before she could even fully process them. "Why do you have to tell her that?"

Emma paused while combing her fingers through her soft, honey-colored hair, staring quizzically at Regan. "What?"

"Why do you have to tell her the truth?" Regan clarified.

Emma's hands fell heavily to her sides, the look in her eyes suspicious. "What are you saying?"

Tapping her fingers together in thought, Regan tilted her head to the side. "I don't know. What's the big deal if she thinks we're in a relationship if it helps you out? I don't care if she thinks that."

"You don't," Emma slowly repeated, staring at her. "You don't care… that my mom thinks we're in a relationship?"

Regan shook her head, trying to sort through her feelings on the matter to make sure she was telling the truth. But she wasn't getting that weird, gnawing feeling in her stomach like she did when she felt like she was doing something wrong. "It's not like I'm actually dating anyone." Which she imagined might be her biggest issue. "I'll just be having a bagel with a woman I barely know while calling you snookums."

Emma shuddered. "Do not."

Regan's grin crept over her face. "My little sweetie baby honey pie." She winked before making an exaggerated kissy face at Emma, taking a far stronger delight in it than even she'd imagined.

"I think I'd rather tell her the truth," Emma deadpanned.

"Your prerogative." She shrugged.

They stared at each other for several long moments before Emma let out a deep breath. "I cannot believe I'm saying this…"

Regan felt a buzz of anticipation slide through her, surprisingly potent.

It made sense, she reasoned, because – this was bonding ! This was the dream!

"Regan, will you do me a favor and simply not disagree with the notion that we're dating while my mom is here?" Emma's blue eyes searched hers.

In them, Regan found that same rawness from minutes ago. The one that made her take this a little more seriously, as she agreed, "I'll do you one better, and make her believe without question that I'm besotted."

She offered Emma her hand to shake.

Emma stared at it before hesitantly sliding her warm, soft hand into Regan's. "I want it stated on the record that this is the most ludicrous situation I've ever gotten into."

"It's not for me," Regan informed her, lightly stroking her thumb over Emma's as she shook her hand. "But, in what I'm sure is the worst part for you, it's a situation in which you need me ."

Emma leaned in closer, then, and Regan felt the tiny hairs on the back stand up with awareness, her shoulders snapping back at Emma's proximity. They'd never stood so close; she could feel Emma's warm breath on her cheek, as she murmured, "Believe it or not, that's actually not the worst part for me right now. So don't flatter yourself."

Emma dropped her hand and stepped back, brushing her hands through her hair as she quickly tied it up in a ponytail.

And Regan stared for a baffled, silent second before she regained normalcy; that was weird. "I'll do my very best not to flatter myself. But I do have to say that I'm sure your mom might be wondering what we're getting up to in our bedroom , since we're taking so much time." She fluttered her eyelashes, dramatically faux-swooning. "She probably thinks you're having your way with me this morning. Or, I guess, that I'm having my way with you. Since I came to wake you up and all."

Emma's gaze snapped to hers in disgruntled alarm, her cheeks turning pink as Regan laughed in amusement at the idea.

"Let's go," Emma directed, walking toward the door.

Regan dropped her swooning act as she diligently followed, still chuckling to herself.

They found Kimberly right where Regan had left her, in the archway that led into the kitchen. She was clutching the bag containing the bagels like it was a lifeline, and the smile that bloomed over her face when she laid eyes on Emma was so exuberant, Regan was sure that it supplemented the sun streaming in through the windows to illuminate the kitchen.

That was kinda sweet.

"There's my Emma Bo Bemma!" Kimberly dropped her other hand to the top of the paper bagel bag, looking as though she was trying to contain herself. Trying to stop herself from reaching out toward Emma, maybe?

Curiously, Regan shot Emma a side-long look. And she was entirely unsurprised to see how tense Emma was, a tight smile on her mouth. Almost like she didn't know if she really wanted to smile a little or if it was entirely forced. Her face couldn't decide.

"Mom. Hey," Emma greeted, stiltedly, before falling quiet again.

Quiet enough that Regan could start to feel the awkwardness settle into the air, like a heavy, physical presence.

Luckily for Emma, she had Regan. And Regan had never met an awkward silence that she couldn't dissipate.

She cleared her throat to capture both of their attentions rather than allow them to maintain the awkward eye contact they were making and then quickly dodging with one another. She scooted in close to Emma, in a far more familiar way than she'd ever act around Emma in any other situation.

In every day life, if she bumped her hip into Emma's before settling in so close that they were touching from hip to ankle, Emma would bite her head off. Probably.

Not this morning, though!

Because right now , they were in love.

"I didn't know I was in a relationship with one of the famous New York City Bo Bemma's!" She teased, angling her head up at Emma as she bit her bottom lip.

Kimberly laughed at her joke as Emma cut her a look. It was – surprisingly – not annoyed. Regan didn't think so, anyway.

She arched her eyebrows, darting her eyes to Kimberly and back to Emma's. "Don't worry, honey , you're my favorite Bo Bemma, no matter how many relatives of yours come calling for a visit."

All right, was Regan milking this?

Maybe a little bit.

She reached out, easily sliding her arm around Emma's waist, as the grin on her face wavered slightly in question. But Emma gamely accepted the embrace, even if she looked like she might be developing a jaw twitch.

Regan would count that as a win.

"Thanks, babe . You know how much I love it when you're so peppy and joke-y so early in the morning."

Emma's resounding sarcasm made Regan laugh, as Kimberly watched them with such warmth.

"Right – and since I'm sure we're both aware Emma isn't much of a morning person, why don't we go into the kitchen and grab a coffee?" Regan suggested, gesturing at the small round wooden table a few feet away.

"Best idea you've ever had," Emma murmured, relief evident as she stepped out of Regan's hold.

"I just brewed some before you knocked, Kimberly," she informed the woman, ushering her into one of the three seats clustered around the table. "I can grab some plates for the bagels?"

Kimberly pulled a chair out and perched in it as she carefully placed the bagels onto the table. Way too carefully for bagels, to be honest, but Regan got it – there was some emotionally charged shit happening here. She didn't know exactly what kind of emotionally charged shit, but sometimes people needed their emotional support bagels.

Kimberly shook her head, giving Regan a small, appreciative smile. "Um, I'll just take a coffee. The bagels are mostly for Emma – er, the two of you," she rushed to amend, lightly patting the paper bag. "There are four bagels in here. Two everything, since they're Emma's favorites. Remember how we'd go and get everything bagels with scallion cream cheese at that deli down the street from gram's apartment?"

There was so much hope in those words that Regan felt compelled to turn and look at Emma's response.

Emma stood facing the counter with her back to them, but Regan could still see the tense set of her shoulders. She also noted that Emma wasn't actually making a coffee but was merely… standing in front of it.

"Um, yeah," Emma agreed after a beat of quiet.

Kimberly's expression went from tentatively excited to downtrodden in seconds and oof. Regan stepped up next to Emma at the counter, nodding at the table, silently telling Emma to sit.

Emma frowned, shaking her head.

Regan nodded toward the table more insistently, jerking her thumb in Kimberly's direction. Managing the emotions for this woman she didn't know from a hole in the wall was not in her purview.

Emma's jaw twitched again before she relented, maneuvering around Regan to pull out one of the other chairs.

She quickly poured them both a mug, fixing Emma's with a dash of milk and a single pump of the syrup Regan kept on her antique metal serving tray. Not only did she love how it looked, but when it was no longer time for coffee, it was so easy to hide off the counter – Regan regarded it as one of her best decorative finds.

She turned around, placing Emma's coffee in front of her. "The way you like it." She put Kimberly's in front of her as well. "Dairies and sugars are right behind you."

"This is fine, thanks a bunch." Kimberly shot Regan a grateful smile.

She returned it with one of her own as she retrieved her coffee that she'd been drinking earlier. Blessed be, she needed this caffeine.

Admittedly, getting roped into these kinds of shenanigans did jazz her up a bit. Especially because she was curious as hell to know the backstory here.

Never in her life would she have expected this from Emma .

"Mm," Kimberly hummed brightly as she placed her mug on the table, her eyebrows raised. "This coffee is delicious!" She laughed, a light, tinkling sound, as she put her hand against her chest. "Believe me, I drink a lot of it – most of it not so good. What brand is it?"

Regan perked up, pride pushing through her. "It's my own blend, actually! It's a medium blend with Brazilian and Ethiopian coffee beans."

Kimberly sipped again, nodding effusively as she swallowed. "Well, you should be proud of this."

"I'm a barista by trade," Regan offered. "So, it's kind of my thing."

"She makes my favorite coffee. It's perfect every time," Emma supplied, sipping slowly on her own coffee. She spoke so casually and flippantly, but her words snagged all of Regan's attention.

She shifted to look at Emma in surprise, studying her profile. "Really?"

Emma turned to meet her gaze, looking confused at Regan's interest. "Yeah? I mean, I've gone to Topped Off for years; it's not like that's the only coffee shop near campus."

A pleased warmth slid through her at the compliment and Regan settled back in her chair. Well, then.

"That's so sweet," Kimberly's voice cut in, regaining their attention.

Regan watched Emma furrow her eyebrows as she looked at her mom. "So… what are you doing here?" Emma asked.

She'd have to hand it to Emma – she really cut straight to the point. She supposed there was something to say about that directness.

Honestly, it had always been Regan's favorite thing about Emma.

"Right!" Kimberly lit up, her posture straightening as she cleared her throat. "Well, I finally finished going through all the boxes we'd put in the basement after the move. You know, filled with the things we don't use day-to-day."

"Sure…"

Kimberly nodded as if thrilled by Emma's simple validation. "Yesterday morning, I found Mr. Cuddles." She leaned down to rummage through her tote bag before she emerged with a stuffed animal. A purple bear with a faded embroidered heart on the tummy, which she held up, looking both victorious and nervous. "I, um, I just remembered how much you loved him when you were little, and I thought it would be nice to give him back to you."

Regan slid her gaze to Emma, who sat shock-still for several long moments. From her side view, she could see the slight ticking of Emma's jaw, but other than that, she looked… frozen.

If Regan really was Emma's supportive girlfriend, she would do something here.

So, she did.

Leaning forward, she put her hand on Emma's knee and squeezed softly, sending Kimberly a delighted smile. "He's so cute!"

Which was true.

Mr. Cuddles was clearly well-loved, though also well-taken care of. He was in a much better state than Regan's favored childhood stuffed animals were. Or would be if they still existed outside of the landfill they'd likely ended up in when she'd turned ten, and her parents had thrown out her stuffed animals.

Kimberly looked relieved at Regan's response and offered Mr. Cuddles out to her. "He is! I, uh," she glanced at Emma. "I got him for Emma when she was two. She was so sick; she had a hundred-and-four-degree fever. It was terrible. She loved Mr. Cuddles, though, the second she got her hands on him."

Regan carefully took the bear with her free hand, squeezing Emma's knee again with the other.

"I can see why." She studied the well-kept companion; not even a patch of hair missing or anything. "I liked that you used a male pronoun, even though he was purple. Very ahead of your time."

"I've always been into equality," Emma seemed to finally find her voice.

Kimberly's phone vibrated where it sat on the table next to her, but she ignored it. "I brought it when I went to see your gram yesterday, but you'd already left when I arrived. I was trying to arrange it so we ran into one another, but…" She trailed off with a shrug and a forced laugh, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug. "I know how it is; it was a Saturday evening. You're young and in love. So, I just – I thought I could just drop it by before it gets lost in the shuffle at my house."

Regan settled Mr. Cuddles in her lap, sipping her coffee to hide her tickled smile at being called young and in love . And she just knew that while hearing that phrase to describe the two of them amused her, it made Emma want to shout the truth from the rooftop.

Only Emma didn't look aggrieved at all.

She looked very much like she wasn't sure what to say. And she definitely looked relieved when Kimberly's phone rang again, giving her a reason to encourage, "Why don't you answer it? It could be important."

Kimberly slid her gaze down to her phone screen before she sighed. "It's – I should be on my way to the shelter."

"What shelter?" Regan asked.

"The Culver Women's Shelter, on third? I'm the director there, and I have a few meetings today," she answered with a tentative smile, as she slid her gaze to Emma once more. "I just… I wanted to see you. Even if it was only for a few minutes."

"That's – I didn't realize you worked there. That's great," Emma murmured, her cheeks flushed as she looked away from her mom's gaze and down into her coffee. "But, yeah, I don't want you to miss the meetings on my account."

Regan's eyes widened. Yikes! Again, she sipped her coffee to hide her expression.

Kimberly nodded. "Right. Of course, you're right." She leaned conspiratorially toward Regan, a smile on her lips again. "Believe it or not, Emma has always been a stickler for never being late and sticking to the rules." She looked back at Emma, a smile screaming of hesitance and affection curling her lips. "I like that some things never change."

"Happy to help," Emma seemed to manage with something that resembled a smile. Kind of.

Regan realized her hand was still resting on Emma's knee and squeezed again. This one was entirely for real support, no teasing intended.

Kimberly stood, tugging her tote bag over her shoulder. "I really hope we can get together soon. Maybe the two of you can come over for dinner with Ted and the girls? If you're settled in here, that is."

"Oh, Emma's totally settled in here! Aren't you, sweetie?" Regan leaned toward Emma enough so she could rest her head against her shoulder.

Emma, in turn, dropped her hand on top of Regan's and squeezed a little too hard to be considered nice.

Kimberly lit up like a Christmas tree. "That's amazing! I'll set something up real soon!" Her phone started buzzing again as she clutched it tightly in her hand. "I should answer this. I love you, Emma! And it was so great to finally meet you, Regan."

"Yeah, it was so great to finally meet you, too!" Regan called out to her as she rushed out.

As soon as the apartment door shut behind her, Emma turned to Regan, eyes blazing. " Why would you agree to making dinner plans with her?"

Regan held her hand up, defensively. "Uh, excuse me? I don't recall hearing myself do that."

… did she? She tilted her head to the side, running through the last few minutes of interaction and – yeah, no. She hadn't mentioned anything about that.

Emma groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Sure, technically, you didn't do it in as many words. But to Kimberly , that was an agreement of epic proportions."

Regan stared incredulously. "I have a really good suggestion for you: next time you tell someone we're in a relationship, give me a cheat sheet or something so I can properly prepare myself! How should I know your mom's double-talk? I didn't even know she existed until thirty minutes ago."

She couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

As she did, some of the fight also seemed to leave Emma's body. It had been fascinating, really, how she could quite literally see the tension lessen in Emma's shoulders as soon as Kimberly had left.

Hoping to continue with the lightening of the mood, she lifted Mr. Cuddles, holding him in front of her face as she called on the deepest voice she could summon. "Yeah, Emma, it's not Regan's fault. She was just trying to help reunite us. I missed you!"

Emma choked on a laugh, reaching up and taking Mr. Cuddles from Regan for the first time. "Oh my god, never do that again. That's not even what his voice sounds like."

Regan gaped, delighted. "You know you can't say that to me and then not demonstrate what his voice is supposed to sound like. Right? You can't."

Emma met her stare, clearly unintimidated. "Yes. I can, actually. Very easily."

"Emma! After I just did you such a huge favor!" Regan widened her eyes, fluttering her lashes, trying to appeal to Emma.

"Seriously, Regan…" Emma closed her eyes and nodded. "I really appreciate you doing that for me. Not enough to demonstrate Mr. Cuddles' voice for you, but… a lot."

That sincere tone came back into Emma's voice, and Regan felt like she was glowing with it.

God, this was so good . Right when she'd been lamenting about getting them to a good place, this had dropped in her lap!

Because she loved it when Emma was real-Emma with her. The same genuine tone that Emma used with Sutton and other people who weren't driving her crazy – Regan liked it. She could get used to this.

She was desperate for them to get to a place where they could get used to this.

"It was kinda fun," she admitted. "I love being on the inside of a good secret. A little scheme."

Emma rolled her eyes as she stood up. "Of course you do."

Regan watched Emma strut down the hall toward her bedroom, sipping triumphantly on her coffee; she felt like that had gone rather well.

Maybe the next time she lamented to the universe, she'd ask for a million dollars.