CHAPTER FOUR

"So, are you seeing Killian tomorrow?" Mary-Margaret asked nonchalantly as she sat and folded her newborn son's freshly laundered clothes.

"If you mean, am I taking Henry to the park tomorrow so that he can meet up with his friend? Then yeah," Emma crooned softly, her eyes never leaving the almost asleep bundle that she held carefully in her arms.

"I did mean the park actually and, sure, you're only going because of Henry," her friend repeated a touch sardonically. With a wry smile, she picked up the next piece of clothing and made quick work of folding it up.

Emma looked over at her and frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd had this conversation with her friend and she doubted it'd be the last. Mary-Margaret was one of those lucky people that had found a fairytale kind of true love with her husband and wanted everyone around her to experience the same. Which was fine, except for the fact that she'd gotten into her head that for Emma, that person was going to be Killian Jones - the man she'd been trying really hard to keep at a safe distance.

And, for the past few weeks, she'd been doing a damn fine job of it too...

Well, kind of. Maybe. When she wasn't being distracted by that annoyingly endearing grin of his - or the way she caught him gazing at her sometimes. Like she meant something. Oh, he was always quick to mask it and she always pretended not to notice. But she did. Not that it changed anything. She couldn't let it - even though he somehow now just slotted into her life. A constant that she knew she could rely on. That she could trust. Those people were few and far between for her and she didn't take it lightly.

"Killian and I are just friends, Mary-Margaret," she stated in a long suffering tone, "I've already told you that."

"I know and it's great that you've let him in even that much," she replied agreeably, "But that doesn't mean that you two can't ever be anything more."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Who says I want anything more?" she challenged with a hint of irritation.

"I do," Mary-Margaret declared, finally giving up any pretence of concentrating on the clothes in front of her and pinning the blonde with a narrowed gaze. "I've seen the way you look at him...and he you," she added pointedly when a red cheeked Emma opened her mouth to deny the allegation. "And let's not forget about that kiss at Granny's."

"No, let's," Emma muttered uncharitably, but Mary-Margaret ignored her, determined to drive home her point.

"It might have only been on your hand but you can't stand there and honestly tell me that you didn't feel it right down to your toes!"

"Can't I?" Emma retorted a touch belligerently.

The other woman tutted at her friend's hostility and shook her head.

"Oh please, I was there. I saw your face and his too." Seeing that Emma wasn't happy being told what she thought was obvious to even the most casual observer, her expression softened and she tried again. "Listen, all I'm trying to say is that he's a good guy, Emma. And you like him. Why don't you just ask him to go for a coffee or something? See what happens."

"I know exactly what'll happen," the blonde retorted flatly, "It'll end up ruining our friendship."

"Or maybe it could turn into something even better," Mary-Margaret enthused optimistically. "Look at David and me. We were friends first."

"Oh please," Emma scoffed lightly, wondering if there was any way, bar jumping out the nearest window, for her to end this unwanted conversation. "What you two have is special."

"Yeah, for us," the brunette agreed, "and you can have your own kind of special with someone too, Emma."

"That's easy for you to say," the blonde protested wryly, "You're happy; you've found the perfect guy already."

"You might have too," Mary-Margaret persisted.

"Or he might not be and in the end I'm left brokenhearted again, just like with Neal," Emma suddenly snapped, having had enough of her friends pushing. "I'm not going to take that chance."

"Oh, Emma!" the brunette declared unhappily. She simply stared and took a moment as she searched for the right words to try and help her friend to see that it was time to put the past behind her, "What Neal did...it was awful, and I know things have been hard for you but, honey, it's been over twelve years...don't you think you've let him rule your life for long enough now?"

Emma eyes widened at Mary-Margaret's words, the truth of them striking an unpleasant chord deep down inside. She'd never thought of it like that and didn't like the stinging realisation it gave her either. She wanted to deny it. Badly. But she couldn't and that just made her feel even worse.

The baby began to fuss in her arms and she looked down in surprise, almost having forgotten that she was still holding him.

"Sorry," she mumbled apologetically, worrying that it had been her angry tone that had upset him.

"Don't be, he's due a feed," the brunette assured her with a smile as she got up and came over.

Emma handed the baby back to his mother then quickly stood and made a show of checking her watch.

"I'd better go. I just remembered I need to do some...shopping for dinner tonight."

She knew from Mary-Margaret's expression that she didn't believe her for a second, but she was grateful she didn't call her out. Instead, her friend merely summoned a smile and nodded then asked hopefully, "Will you and Henry come over for dinner one night next week?"

"Yeah, sure," the blonde replied with her own, rather forced, smile. "I'll give you a call and we'll sort something out."

"Great."

Emma nodded then made good her escape after bidding the brunette a brief goodbye. Once outside the house, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

She needed to think.

The short car journey home did nothing to ease her troubled thoughts. As soon as she entered her apartment, she went straight into her bedroom and sat down heavily on the bed. Flopping back, she let out an audible groan at her short-sightedness.

How had she not realised the way Neal's actions had influenced her before?

It was so painfully obvious now that Mary-Margaret had pointed it out. All these years she'd thought she was just being cautious – and with good reason. She'd been hurt. Devastated. Betrayed by the one person she'd believed wouldn't do that to her.

She had a right to be guarded with her heart, hadn't she?

Of course she did.

Only - there was guarded and there was closed off and somewhere along the way, she'd become the latter.

She'd allowed Neal's one act determine her life.

It was a sobering realisation. One she balked at even as she accepted the truth of it because acknowledging it was only the start. It didn't mean that she could just snap her fingers and all her trust issues and fears would disappear like magic.

What would that even feel like?

To willingly open up her heart. To risk the possibility of getting hurt again.

Could she do that after all this time?

Unbidden, an image of Killian with his laughing blue eyes and warm smile suddenly came to mind and her heart gave a little stutter. A familiar warm feeling started in her chest at the mere thought of him but, as was her habit, she quickly stamped it down, refusing to let it flourish.

Abruptly, she sat up again, her eyes widening slightly in mild panic. It scared her to dare think of anything more with him. What little she'd allowed was good. More importantly, it was safe – something she was sure their relationship wouldn't be if she allowed her feelings free rein.

Just looking at him was enough to have her senses swimming, and when they touched…Emma looked down at her hand and flexed her fingers lightly before clenching them into a fist on her lap. Mary-Margaret had been wrong about that kiss under the mistletoe. She hadn't felt that brief, barely there brush of his lips down to her toes – no...she'd felt it everywhere.

Glancing over at her bedside cabinet suddenly, she pulled open the top drawer. Reaching in, right to the back, she felt around until her fingers came in contact with a smooth, wooden object. Drawing it out, her lips curved into a soft smile at seeing the gift Killian had given her for Christmas.

A beautiful hand carved swan.

He'd made it himself. She'd found that out when Henry had called Killian to thank him for the games voucher and wooden pirate ship he'd given him. He'd made the ship as well which Henry had been effusive in his praise about down the phone.

Emma had made some excuse about seeing to dinner when Henry had innocently asked if she'd wanted to speak to Killian herself. She hadn't known what to say. Not when it was obvious from the smooth finish and expert lines of the swan that it had undoubtedly taken a lot of time to craft. A lot of care. The kind that came from it meaning something. She might be wilfully blind, but she wasn't stupid. She just hadn't wanted to examine his motives too closely. Not right then at least.

Henry had ended the call shortly after and told her that Killian had hoped she liked his gift.

She did.

Far too much.

In a fit of pique with herself, she'd shoved the swan into her drawer in the hopes of forgetting about it. Out of sight, out of mind. But much like the man who'd made it for her, neither could be expunged from her thoughts quite so easily.

And maybe, she realised as she sat there staring at the delicate ornament now, it was time to admit to herself that she didn't really want to - that she needed to stop listening to her head and, for the first time in many years, start listening to her heart again.

It wasn't going to be easy, she already knew that. Anything worth having never was but, despite her fears, she was becoming more and more sure that she wanted to try. A tiny smile lifted her lips as a swirl of excitement started to unfurl in her gut at that thought. This time when she pictured Killian's face, she allowed the familiar warmth to grow, testing it out, letting herself just feel.

And it felt good.

Right.

Slowly, she placed the swan down on top of her bedside cabinet. No more hiding it away. It would be a symbol; a reminder to her every morning and every night to do the same with her heart.

Suddenly, she let out a shaky laugh, the enormity of what she was contemplating hitting her in a wave of mixed emotions. How differently she viewed her life, herself, in just a couple of hours. It should have felt too fast, but with each new wave of emotion that crashed through her body, it hit her that this had been coming for weeks now. Months, even. Since the day she'd first met him in fact. Right from the beginning he'd affected her and her heart had been silently responding to him on a level she hadn't even realised. No doubt, at some point, she would second guess herself, it was just who she was, but right at that moment, her most overwhelming feeling was one of anticipation - and no little amount of nerves.

It was one thing telling herself that she could do this; it was going to be quite another to actually face Killian. Especially since she'd made a point of telling him that she wanted to be friends and nothing more.

To his credit, he'd never once overstepped that boundary she'd put in place and now...now it was down to her to remove it.

A cup of coffee, Mary-Margaret had suggested. See what happens.

It sounded so...easy. So non-committal and yet, it'd be a tentative, albeit huge, step forward. For her at least.

But when to do it? Wait and casually ask the next day? With the boys there, it'd certainly be easier.

Or...

"No time like the present," she muttered wryly to herself as she stood up, suddenly decided.

With one last glance at the swan to bolster her confidence, she left the apartment and got into her car. Heart thumping, she headed off towards the docks and maybe, just maybe, towards the start of something good.

END CHAPTER FOUR