Chapter 6

six

Regan lightly drummed her fingers against the polished wood arm of the chair she sat in as she looked around Opal's.

Unsurprisingly, her sister's bridal boutique was ritzy as hell; Regan had been a little nervous to sit on the chair she'd been directed toward when she'd arrived half an hour ago, wondering if it was some sort of antique that was designed for her to look but not touch.

As she heard her sister's voice talking animatedly to the same woman the had brought Regan into the showing room – Anita, a very bubbly shop assistant – she braced herself.

Regan always braced herself when preparing to spend time with her family. But today, after her fallout with Emma last night, she was extra antsy.

There was nothing like your roommate telling you that you were a directionless loser, only to spend the following morning with your sister, who believed the same thing. Regan was finding that she didn't have the same fire she normally summoned for her infrequent meetings with her family.

Audrey walked back into the ornate fitting room, cutting herself off mid-sentence when she laid eyes on Regan. "Regan. What are you doing here?" She asked, in her soft-spoken yet steely voice.

Regan stared back, wondering which one of them had lost their damn mind. "Um… it's the day we're getting fitted for our dresses? You told me to be here? It's on the calendar? You literally told me I better be here on time, or I was going to fuck up your entire wedding?"

Audrey opened her mouth to respond, before she seemed to remember they had company, and she turned to Anita. "Thanks so much for bringing me back; the rest of the party should be here any minute. Would you mind waiting for them?"

Her sister managed to have perfect manners and the nicest tone for everyone, it seemed, except for her. Typically, Regan would have probably commented on it. At the very least, rolled her eyes.

As it was, she simply breathed out a sigh, letting herself slump back against the chair, feeling so… lackluster. It was the only word that came to mind to describe this utter lack of energy or enjoyment in the little things right now.

Audrey turned back to face her, pursing her lips. "I know why you're here." She brought up her hand, rubbing her fingers over her temples, as if the very sight of Regan already stressed her out.

Normally, Regan would have taken some small satisfaction in that, given that she, too, was stressed out by Audrey. As it was, with Emma's words echoing through her mind, it just made her feel… badly.

Or worse , Regan supposed, given that she felt like shit already.

"But it's only nine-thirty, and the appointment is at ten. I told you that you didn't even have to be here until nine forty-five."

Regan shrugged. "And I figured I'd get here a little early. I assumed you'd be happy about it."

Mostly, Regan had needed to get out of the apartment. She'd left before seven, making sure to slip out before she'd see Emma getting ready for work. She'd first gone to Topped Off and baked another batch of the new recipe she'd tried out for cupcakes last night. The ones she'd wanted to share with Emma. Then she'd left as the morning shift changed over, not feeling up to conversation.

Audrey stared at Regan as though she were a little green alien, waving at her with a three-fingered hand. "You've never been this early to anything in your entire life."

Regan set her jaw, hearing Emma's words echo in her ears as she'd indirectly called Regan unorganized and irresponsible. "I've never been late to anything you've ever invited me to, either," she pointed out in her own defense.

Which was the truth.

Granted, Audrey had never invited her to anything, so there was also that. But Regan was so – so sick of being judged without even being given a real chance.

Her sister chewed on the inside of her lip as she stared at Regan as if she were a stranger and not someone who'd lived in the bedroom down the hall from hers for nearly eighteen years.

"Fine," Audrey finally settled on, shaking her head. "I'm not going to get into a ridiculous debate about this, today of all days."

"Great," Regan muttered, the word barely louder than a breath as she leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "When is everyone else supposed to get here?"

"Why? Have somewhere better to be?" Her sister asked, in that tone . The tone she always made her way to when they talked.

Regan slid her gaze to meet Audrey's stare.

"Work," she replied shortly. "I have work after this." When Audrey lifted her eyebrows, Regan dropped a hand over her eyes. "Look, I also don't want to get into a ridiculous back and forth today, okay? Even though I'm not a high-powered public relations executive, I still have a job. Someone has to make you a coffee on your way to the office, right?"

It was as much fire as she could manage, but it seemed to do the trick. Audrey drew her lips into a tight line and turned to look at herself in one of the many dizzying full-length mirrors.

Regan wondered if her sister ever contemplated how wildly different they looked. With her long, pale blonde hair and pale green eyes, Audrey favored their mother as much as Regan favored their father's dark hair and eyes. They were as different in looks as they were in personality.

When she'd been little, Regan had wished desperately to look and be more like her sister. She vividly remembered begging her mom to dye her hair like Audrey's for her sixth birthday. But those wants had died a long time ago, when she'd realized she'd much rather be like herself – ADHD and all – than like her judgey, snobby family.

Which was why Emma's comments from last night shouldn't bother her.

Regan knew that. And Regan liked to believe that she had skin thick enough that one person's opinion of her wouldn't hold any true weight.

She'd been sworn at more times than she could count, in multiple languages – it was so beautiful, in a way, how much of a melting pot New York truly was – even had a few coffee cups thrown at her from angry customers with no sense of decency. And every time that happened, she'd walked away with an unmarred sense of self and a funny story.

Yet, here she was. In an undeniable funk ever since last night. When Emma had torn Regan apart in less than ten minutes. The worst part was that Emma hadn't even intended to be rude when she'd called Regan dumb, unorganized, irresponsible, and ambitionless.

Nope, she'd stated it so casually. As if she and Regan were both on the same page about those facts. As if they were just those – facts.

If Regan was being honest with herself, the fact that Audrey's dress fitting was this morning exacerbated everything. She was already on edge leading up to today, as she always was with Audrey, and to have Emma tell her that she thought of Regan the same way Regan's family did… it did hurt her feelings. A lot.

"So, how's your life with Sutton ?" Audrey asked, using the same shitty tone she always used when she said Sutton's name.

Regan was almost grateful to be pulled out of her depressing thoughts. Almost. She scowled at the way Audrey referred to her best friend.

"It's fine," she answered. "I mean, Sutton's in Rome. But it's fine." She traced her index finger over one of the little golden lines that was imprinted into the wood of the armrest as she spoke.

"On a vacation with her congresswoman girlfriend, then?" Audrey pressed in that same voice.

Regan did a double-take at her sister's reflection, wondering how she'd even known about that. Since when did Audrey take any interest in Regan's life, of which Sutton was an extension? Audrey wasn't looking at her and was instead re-applying her already perfect lipstick. Regan hadn't even realized she'd broken out her cosmetics.

Then again, Regan reasoned with herself, Charlotte's coming out had been a fairly public moment. "Uh, no. She's been there for about two months; she's doing an internship, so she's going to be there for a while. Until the end of the year."

God, that felt like forever right about now. Regan's stomach was twisting with knots at the idea of going home to Emma, and they still had another five and a half months to go.

"Without you?" Audrey scoffed out a laugh, shaking her head as if she'd said something incredibly amusing, as she popped the cap back onto her lipstick.

Regan pulled a face at her sister's back. "Obviously, without me ." She tapped her fingers against the armrest again, biting at the inside of her cheek. Waiting.

Waiting for whatever smart remark would come next, certain one was coming. When it came to her family, it always was.

Several moments beat by in quiet as Audrey rifled through the designer bag she had sitting on the chair next to her. When she did speak, that tone was gone. "Huh. And how's that going?"

Regan nearly fell out of her seat – literally, she gripped both armrests just in case – from the shocked confusion that rushed through her. Audrey asking her a follow-up question? About her life ?!

Suspicion edged in, and Regan narrowed her eyes. "How's what going?"

"Not being attached at the hip with Sutton Spencer," Audrey clarified, scoffing slightly again.

Really, was Regan dreaming? Had she tripped on the way here and fallen into an alternate universe? Was Audrey actually asking how it was going? Or was she being bitchy?

When she remained silent, Audrey pressed, "Well?"

"Well, what?" She asked, feeling unbelievably dumb.

"I asked you a question…"

"I wasn't sure you really wanted an answer."

Audrey turned to look at her, one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted. "Why would I ask a question and not expect an answer?"

"Because… you never ask me questions about my life?" Regan pointed out, her bafflement growing. What the hell was going on here? When was Audrey going to pull out the rug and make a comment on Regan being Sutton's leech? Granted, that was their mom's preferred comment, but Audrey wouldn't be her sister if she didn't stand behind everything their parents preached.

"I'm your sister, Regan. I have some modicum of interest in your comings and goings." Her voice was sharp again. Sharp enough that it gave Regan some semblance of normalcy, even if her actual words didn't.

"Since when ?" The words slipped out incredulously. She couldn't have stopped them if she tried. "You've never had any interest in my comings and goings! We don't even text."

"Because when I text you, I inevitably receive either a snarky response or that insipid thumbs-up emoji!"

Okay, here was the Audrey Regan knew. "Because you're always being judgmental and rude!"

She had the text thread to prove it, and she was about to grab her phone from her pocket to do just that when they heard Anita approaching.

"Perfectly on time," Anita announced as she walked into their fitting area. "All of your bridesmaids are here."

Even though Regan wasn't thrilled about the prospect of spending any time with Audrey's social cohorts, she found herself intensely relieved.

"Regan! Those cupcakes you made have already sold out!" Beth called to her as she diligently cleaned the display case full of their baked goods. "I can't believe you came in this morning to bake them, especially because you weren't scheduled to come in until noon?"

Regan glanced over to confirm that the cupcakes she'd made were, indeed, all gone.

"Yeah, I decided to come in early and get it done since everyone seemed to like the recipe so much last night," Regan answered, summoning as much enthusiasm as she could.

It wasn't much after the combination of her fight with Emma and her morning at Opal's.

But Beth accepted her words without a question. "I mean, it was a good call. I was just hoping there would be enough to grab another one before I head home later. My bad, though. I should have set one aside."

Regan normally would have teased Beth – you've worked here for over a year now and haven't learned the basics of setting aside desserts from the afternoon stoner crowd?

But she found she didn't really have it in her at the moment.

"Yeah," was all she said back before dropping her chin back into her hand with a sigh.

She half-heartedly wiped the counter space next to the cash register down with the cloth in her free hand, even though it was unnecessary, as she kept her workspace immaculate. Would she continue to garner as many tips as possible and enough positive comments from her regulars to maintain her employee of the month status for the twentieth time with a countertop full of crumbs and coffee stains?

Successful barista life meant never resting on her laurels.

She sighed again, mindlessly swiping the cloth over the counter, staring blankly down at the stainless steel as she did so.

"I'll take a large iced coffee, dark roast," a quiet yet commanding voice ordered. It was a voice that, though low in volume, cut through the general din of the café, demanding attention.

It was a voice Regan recognized.

She looked up from the countertop, where she'd apparently been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even registered the door to the café opening. And she looked right into Charlotte Thompson's honey brown eyes.

"Oh! Hey," she greeted, her lips quirking into the slightest of smiles. She automatically punched in Charlotte's order – same as she always ordered. Plain, no frills.

"Hey," Charlotte echoed, her eyebrows lifting slightly as she paid with her credit card.

Regan turned away from facing Charlotte, scooping ice into the cup before moving to the brewer. "So… how are you doing? How's life as a congresswoman?"

As she capped the coffee cup, she decided that she appreciated Charlotte getting a very simple order. Regan could tell a lot about someone from their coffee order, and Charlotte's was very straightforward. Strong and direct. Really, it was the first clue that she could potentially trust this woman with her best friend's heart.

Granted, it had been a long road with some bumps along the way before Regan had fully trusted that. But if Charlotte's coffee order had required more than two pumps of anything, Regan would have had to question her character.

Still, Regan typically gave Charlotte a little shit for never trying anything else or spicing up her order. She viewed it as part of their banter.

But today, she wasn't in the mood for jesting. Instead, she simply slid Charlotte's coffee across the counter.

"Busy. But good," Charlotte answered as she accepted her drink. "I just got back from two weeks in D.C."

Regan nodded. "Yeah, Sutton mentioned that in a text. That's cool."

"Yes, it is," Charlotte murmured, tapping her well-manicured fingertips against the top of her coffee lid as she stared at Regan with a measuring gaze.

Regan stared back, confused.

"Is that all?" Charlotte pressed. "You don't have any other commentaries or questions regarding my trip or my relationship? All you have to say is… cool?"

Her disbelief was blatant.

Which was fair, Regan could admit that. She would probably have a lot more to say any other day. Some teasing comments about Charlotte being a simp for Sutton, asking if she could still feel Sutton's love from Rome down in D.C., maybe. Asking how her first trip as an officially elected member of congress had gone. Had she witnessed anyone trying to steal the Declaration of Independence? The normal stuff.

Right now, Regan merely shrugged. "Yeah. It's cool."

Both of Charlotte's eyebrows lifted high onto her forehead. "All right."

Regan dropped her head back in her hand with another sigh, watching out of her peripherals as Charlotte grabbed a straw at the station a few feet away.

She anticipated Charlotte would leave, which she normally did. Since she'd become a regular at Topped Off, she'd stop in a couple of times a week and grab a coffee but never linger.

This time, though, rather than strutting toward the door, she paused and gave Regan a look over her shoulder.

"All right," she repeated her words from a minute ago, rolling her shoulders back. This time, the words weren't a question but a statement. "I can't in good conscience leave this café until you've told me what is wrong. Sutton would never forgive me."

"Eh, she would." Regan waved her hand in the air. "She thinks you're basically perfect and knows you have a busy schedule."

Charlotte's eyes widened, concern etching over her features. Regan decided it was an interesting look because she didn't think she'd ever seen it before. Not directed at her, anyway. "Well, that deflection makes me even more certain this is a dire situation."

Charlotte's lips pursed as she cleared her throat and called out, "Beth?"

Beth, who just finished cleaning out the display case at the other end of the counter, looked up in obvious surprise at being addressed. Or, perhaps, surprised at being addressed by Charlotte . "Uh, me? Me-Beth?"

"I wasn't aware another was working here," Charlotte said with a charming smile. "It doesn't seem to be busy here at the moment. Would you mind very much if I borrowed Regan for a few minutes?"

Beth's eyebrows lifted even higher as she swung her gaze from Charlotte to Regan, then back. "Uh…" She focused on Regan, eyes wide and clearly asking for permission.

Which Regan granted with a shrug.

"Sure," Beth promptly answered, and it was very clear she was thrilled to be giving Charlotte the answer Charlotte wanted to hear. "It's the afternoon lull, so it should be fine."

"Wonderful." Charlotte turned her determined gaze back to Regan, tilting her head toward the nearest table. Though the motion was subtle, the unspoken order was crystal clear.

Regan had to wonder if Charlotte's elegant imperialism was something she was born with or had learned to master. Regardless, she followed her, pulling out a seat and plunking down into it.

Charlotte mirrored her with far more grace. She checked her watch on the inside of her wrist before shaking her hair back and looking directly across the table at Regan. "I have approximately twelve minutes I can spare before I'm egregiously late. I'd prefer if I didn't have to spend much more of it prying information out of you, but–"

Regan splayed her hands on the table, leaning forward as the words tumbled out of her. "Last night, Emma came home and told me everything she actually thinks about me, and none of it was good. Actually, it was all really bad. Like. Stupid and immature; she'd be embarrassed to even introduce me to her grandmother."

Charlotte's mouth snapped shut as she stared at Regan for several seconds. "Huh. That took far less than I'd anticipated, given your obviously glum state."

Leaning back with a shrug, Regan answered honestly, "I like to talk about my problems. If you're asking, I'm going to tell you."

Regan was far from a closed book and wasn't above demonstrating that. The reality was Regan didn't do well when silently stewing on something. In fact, she hated it.

So, even though Charlotte Thompson was an unexpected ear to open up to, Regan would take what she had. Right now, her options were limited.

"Plus, you have this… quality," Regan muttered, tilting her head to the side as she narrowed her eyes at Charlotte. "I kinda want to talk to you. How do you do that?" She demanded.

A small smile tugged at one side of Charlotte's mouth, even as she lifted her eyebrows. "It's a practiced skill."

Ah. Well, that answered several of Regan's questions about Stunning Charlotte.

"Can you teach me how to do it?" She asked curiously.

Especially right now. Maybe, if she could pry the truth from people in the easy way Charlotte could, she would never end up in situations like this one with Emma. Maybe she would have known years ago that Emma would never be able to see past their misunderstandings.

Charlotte's eyebrows raised even higher, the smile slowly dropping from her face. "I'm afraid it's not something I have a lesson plan for. I'm also afraid you're a little more forthright, where this requires a decent bit of subtlety."

She slowly nodded; that was fair feedback.

"Anyway," Charlotte crossed her legs, the look on her face all business as she re-focused her attention. "Did Emma say those exact words to you?"

Regan's lips twisted as she thought back to the night before. "No, not all of them," she admitted, quickly shrugging it off. "But it wasn't a hard leap to make."

Charlotte studied her intently. "I may be mistaken here, as I know I haven't spent much time with both you and Emma together. But from what I know, the news that Emma isn't your biggest fan isn't actually news . Correct?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it makes me feel a little stupid," Regan muttered because she really did feel a little stupid after Charlotte's comment.

Because, no, nothing Emma said should feel like it came out of nowhere. Emma had never once, in two years, made a friendly overture toward Regan. And yet…

"The thing is, I never believed she had such a low opinion of me," Regan explained, frowning. "I thought – I don't know. I mean, I knew that we were always on the wrong footing. But I never thought Emma believed I was such an inconsequential fuck up."

Saying it aloud demoralized her again, the words twisting her stomach painfully. She was glad she hadn't fixed herself a coffee because it would have been an absolute waste; she couldn't stomach anything right now.

"It's interesting," Charlotte's voice was low and thoughtful. "I never pegged you as a person that would care so much about what someone would think. Especially someone they aren't friends with."

Regan frowned even deeper, her stomach tying up in bigger, tighter knots. "I guess the humiliating thing is that I considered Emma to be friend-adjacent? Like. I know we weren't friends . I would never text her to go out for a drink or anything like that. But I'd always assumed we both had a baseline level of respect for one another? At this point, we've been in the same social circle for a couple of years, so…"

She trailed off, hunching in on herself.

That was the truth. There had been moments over the last couple of years where she and Emma had been out with Sutton, and they'd both laugh at the same comment that no one else found funny. Or they'd make eye contact and roll their eyes at something stupid. Regan didn't believe that made them friends , but she'd thought it made them… something.

What was more than that – what ate at her even more deeply – was what she wasn't telling Charlotte. What she couldn't tell Charlotte was that, even as an open book, there were certain chapters that she didn't allow anyone to read, and they all revolved around her family. Emma had unknowingly picked at a scab Regan had been carrying her entire life.

"Does Sutton know about this?" Charlotte asked, regaining Regan's attention.

Quickly, Regan shook her head. "No, she does not."

"I thought so," Charlotte quietly mused. "I believe this is something she'd want to know."

"No!" Regan quickly sat up, vehemently shaking her head as the ardent disagreement with that assessment flowed through her. "Look – Sutton is in Rome, working ten-hour days at this internship, and it's the first thing she's doing in her life that's entirely for herself. Okay? There's nothing she can do about this situation other than stress and wonder if she never should have left in the first place. I don't want that."

Which had been the reason Regan hadn't done what her instincts had been screaming at her to do – which was to turn to Sutton for comfort in the first place. She hadn't wanted to hang out with her coworkers last night after the fallout with Emma; she'd wanted to curl up in her bed and talk to her best friend, the one person who would understand why Emma's words cut so deeply.

But she couldn't do that. Because it was the middle of the night in Rome and Sutton was asleep, first and foremost. And Regan… she didn't want to be that person to Sutton. The person who held her back in any way.

She fixed Charlotte with a serious look, hoping that Charlotte could see that Regan meant business. "You aren't going to tell her about this, either. I'm confiding in you right now because you asked. If you go and tell Sutton, you'll be breaking girlfriend-of-best-friend code."

"Girlfriend-of-best-friend code," Charlotte drawled incredulously. "Now, why do I get the feeling you've just made that up?"

"No clue," Regan shot back. "Because it's totally real and super valid. Listen, keeping my confidence is a good thing. It proves you have stand-up character and that you aren't simply talking to me and offering me council to curry good favor with Sutton."

She arched a challenging eyebrow at Charlotte, knowing she had her.

Charlotte released a sigh seconds later, holding her hands up in a sign of defeat. "You obviously don't need me to teach you my methods of persuasion," she said dryly.

Regan grinned, bright and victorious. The burst of positivity felt so good, she soaked it up for the first time all day.

For several moments, Charlotte silently regarded her with a critical stare. Finally, she shrugged. "Fine. I will keep this between you and me – but if Sutton asks me if anything is wrong with you, I will not lie to her."

"I find these terms acceptable," Regan readily agreed.

After all, she wouldn't want her best friend to be dating someone that would lie to her.

"Furthermore, regarding your quandary with Emma…" Charlotte hummed under her breath. "I'll tell you a valuable piece of information my grandmother told me very early in my career."

Regan perked up, leaning in. "Advice straight from the horse's mouth?!"

Charlotte shot her a dour look. "You'd do well not to refer to my grandmother as a horse ."

Regan pfft 'd. "You know what I meant."

"Even so." Charlotte affixed her with a stern look – one Regan was unintimidated by – before she continued, "In my chosen aspiration, I've put myself in the line of fire for public opinion in spades. And people will always have an opinion."

All right, Regan was following what she was saying. Charlotte had publicly come out only a few months ago while running for Congress, so… yeah. Even if Regan hadn't read many of the comments about Charlotte on social media, she was aware that many people had something to say about her life choices.

"The trick to never letting that get to you is knowing that if someone doesn't truly know you, ninety-nine percent of the time? Their opinion says far more about them than it does about you. Or, in the words of my grandmother: judgments made in ignorance are better left ignored."

Slowly, Regan leaned back against the chair, letting the words take root in her mind.

It didn't make her feel better about what Emma said; her feelings were still hurt.

But she had to admit, the perspective did help shift her mindset a little bit.

She met Charlotte's gaze. "You know, I'm really glad you came in today."

"I suppose I am, as well. It's a good thing you make such a good cup of coffee," Charlotte acknowledged, toasting Regan as she held her cup up. "Or else I likely would never have returned after my first stop here."

"Oh, your first stop here when you stalked Jack Spencer?" Regan challenged, grinning with the words. It felt so good to finally not feel like she was in such a funk.

Charlotte's eyebrows furrowed as she narrowed her eyes over the lid of her coffee cup. She didn't hurry her sip along, though. Instead, she moved at her same, steady pace, leisurely lowering the cup as she cleared her throat. "I wouldn't quite call it stalking."

"What would you call it, then? When you find out a man's schedule and rush through the city to coincidentally run into him?"

"Wise business strategy," Charlotte answered simply. "Also, you and Sutton share far too much."

Regan gasped, placing a hand over her heart in offense. "That is simply not possible." She waved her hand as if wiping away that assertion. "Anyway, I think you would have returned after that even if my coffee was shit."

Charlotte stared back at her, pointedly arching an eyebrow at her. "You believe I would have returned to your coffee shop – twenty minutes out of the way of my typical commute – if your coffee was shit?" She echoed Regan's words with a deliberate slowness, obviously designed to make Regan doubt her own sanity. "Why, exactly, is that?"

She tapped on the table, giving herself a little drumroll, before she answered, "Because! You wanted to get into the beautifully high-waisted pants of one glorious creature by the name of Sutton Spencer. Who frequents this very coffee shop. Because, along with having the best coffee in the city, her best friend works here."

Regan pointed to herself with both thumbs triumphantly.

Charlotte chuckled, filled with both exasperation and amusement – Regan was familiar with the sound. "On that note, I think I've over-extended my break for the afternoon."

As Charlotte stood, Regan followed suit. Before Charlotte could leave, she reached out to touch her wrist and stop her. "Thanks for this," she said, seriously. "It really means a lot to me."

A small grin pulled at Charlotte's mouth as she tilted her head in acknowledgment. "What else is the girlfriend-of-your-best-friend for?"

"I've never been so glad that I helped you two get together – twice – than I am now."

Regan returned home that night with a sense of comfort from Charlotte/Elizabeth's sage wisdom.

She held on to it tightly and stumbled to a surprised stop when she found Emma sitting in the living room. "Weird seeing you sitting out here," she couldn't help but comment.

But it was the truth. Because Emma seemed to conveniently never hang out in their common spaces when Regan's schedule informed Emma that she would be home.

Emma offered her a tentative smile. "I mean, you were gone really early this morning, so."

Confused, Regan asked, "… So? I assumed you'd be happy about my absence."

That small smile fell from Emma's face completely. "Listen–"

Regan cut her off, determined to not be dragged back into the headspace she'd been in pre-Charlotte. "If you're going to make an apology to me that you obviously don't mean, then I don't want to hear it."

It went against everything inside of her to not try to hear Emma out, but she powered on, knowing she was doing the right thing for self-protection.

"Before I go to my room, I'm going to tell you the hard truth this time, okay?"

Emma's expression was very clearly dubious, but she nodded nonetheless.

Regan took a deep breath, staring Emma right in the eye. "Have you ever considered that the way you react to me isn't really about me ? Like. Fine. I get it; I can be really chatty, and sometimes I act before I think, and sometimes I do the wrong thing. But – the stupid thing is? When push came to shove, I always would have had your back. And I thought you'd have had mine. Why, exactly, does it bother you so much that I'm not getting a graduate degree or pursuing a serious career ? My ambitions, organization, and whatever else are none of your concern. I think those are you problems, Emma. Because they aren't mine."

As Emma blinked at her in surprise, Regan drew her shoulders back with a sense of pride.

Huh.

That felt pretty good. Good enough to spur her to dig into her bag, where she'd stashed the package that had arrived yesterday.

"Here." She tossed it, still in the bubble wrap, to Emma. "The surprise I'd wanted to give you."

With that, she turned and headed for her room.