Chapter Text
Regina Mills had endured many indignities in her thirty-eight years of life.
She had survived her mother’s relentless criticism, two disastrous blind dates arranged by her sister, an entire Christmas dinner during which her aunt had loudly wondered whether perhaps Regina was “too intimidating for men”, and, most recently, her cousin Abigail’s engagement party, where she had been seated between a recently divorced accountant named Gerald and her grandmother, who had spent dessert explaining that Gerald had “all his own teeth and a very respectable pension”.
But this?
This was where Regina drew the line.
“You hired a girlfriend?”
Regina closed her eyes.
Across the kitchen island, Mary Margaret stared at her with both hands wrapped around a mug of tea, her expression hovering somewhere between horror and absolute delight.
“I hired a date.”
“A female date.”
“Yes.”
“To Abigail’s wedding.”
“Yes.”
“Who is going to pretend to be your girlfriend.”
Regina’s eyes opened.
“Are you planning to continue repeating everything I say back to me, or will there eventually be a contribution to this conversation?”
Mary Margaret’s mouth twitched.
“I’m processing.”
“Process silently.”
“Regina.”
“What?”
“You hired a girlfriend.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Mary Margaret burst out laughing.
Regina turned away from her and reached for the wine bottle on the counter.
It was eleven in the morning.
She reconsidered.
Then poured herself a glass anyway.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I am enjoying it exactly the correct amount.”
“My mother has spent the last six months asking whether I’m bringing someone to Abigail’s wedding.”
“So you hired someone?”
“My grandmother has begun sending me newspaper clippings.”
Mary Margaret frowned. “About dating?”
“About fertility.”
Her face collapsed.
“Oh.”
“Precisely.”
“Okay. That’s horrifying.”
“Last Sunday my aunt asked whether I had considered freezing my eggs.”
“Oh my God.”
“At brunch.”
“Regina.”
“While I was eating an omelette.”
Mary Margaret covered her mouth.
“And then,” Regina continued, pointing her wine glass at her, “my mother informed the table that perhaps my problem is that I’ve spent too long waiting for Prince Charming.”
That sobered Mary Margaret slightly.
“Your mother really said that?”
“Word for word.”
“And that’s when you decided to hire someone?”
“No. That’s when I decided to tell her I was already seeing someone.”
Mary Margaret stared.
Regina took a sip.
“You lied first.”
“I improvised.”
“You invented a girlfriend.”
“I said I was seeing someone.”
“Who?”
“I hadn’t decided yet.”
“Regina!”
“She was interrogating me!”
“So you panicked and came out?”
Regina’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Her eyes narrowed.
“That is not what happened.”
“You told your mother you’re dating a woman.”
“I told my mother I was seeing someone.”
“And then?”
Regina’s jaw tightened.
Mary Margaret waited.
Regina sighed.
“She asked his name.”
“Oh no.”
“And I said Emma.”
Silence.
Mary Margaret blinked.
Regina stared into her wine.
“Emma?”
“It was the first name that came into my head.”
“Emma.”
“Yes.”
“Why Emma?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know an Emma?”
“No.”
“Did you have an imaginary friend called Emma?”
“Mary Margaret.”
“I’m trying to understand the creative process.”
“There was no creative process. Mother said, ‘And what is his name?’ and I said, ‘Her name is Emma.’”
Mary Margaret’s eyebrows climbed.
“And then she just… accepted that?”
“Oh, no. First she stared at me as though I’d announced I was joining a travelling circus. Then she asked how long we’d been together.”
“And what did you say?”
“Four months.”
“Why four?”
“I don’t know!”
Mary Margaret laughed again.
“This is why you’re a terrible liar. You’re adding unnecessary details.”
“I was under pressure.”
“And now Fake Emma has existed for four months.”
“Five, actually.”
Mary Margaret slowly lowered her mug.
“You’ve kept this going for a month?”
Regina looked away.
“Regina.”
“My mother asks questions.”
“So you’ve been making up stories about your imaginary girlfriend?”
“Very few.”
“Such as?”
Regina took another drink.
Mary Margaret’s eyes widened.
“Oh my God, there are stories.”
“There are not stories.”
“What does Emma do?”
“She’s a consultant.”
Mary Margaret choked.
“Of what?”
“I don’t know. Consulting things.”
“Where did you meet?”
“At a charity event.”
“What charity?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Does she live here?”
“No.”
“Where does she live?”
“Across town.”
“Does she have siblings?”
“One brother.”
“Regina!”
“I panicked!”
Mary Margaret was laughing so hard now that tears had appeared in her eyes.
“This isn’t funny.”
“This is the funniest thing you’ve ever done.”
“She invited Emma to the wedding.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
“My mother. Apparently Abigail had a cancellation, and Mother, being Mother, contacted Abigail directly and had Emma added to the seating plan.”
Mary Margaret’s jaw dropped.
“So now you actually need Emma.”
“Hence the website.”
“You found a website where you can rent girlfriends?”
“It’s an escort service.”
Mary Margaret’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.
“Not that kind.”
“Regina!”
“It’s a companion agency. Weddings, corporate events, family functions. Completely legitimate.”
“And you chose a woman called Emma?”
“Obviously.”
“Because you’ve already invented her.”
“Precisely.”
“Can I see?”
“No.”
“Regina.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Absolutely not.”
Mary Margaret was already moving around the island.
Regina snatched her laptop from the counter.
“Give me that.”
“It’s my laptop!”
“I want to see your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Your rented girlfriend.”
“That somehow sounds worse.”
“Your professionally contracted romantic companion.”
“Stop talking.”
Mary Margaret grinned.
“Is she pretty?”
“I have no idea.”
That finally caught her off guard.
“What?”
“There are no photographs.”
“You hired a stranger without seeing her?”
“The agency deliberately doesn’t use photographs. Apparently it protects the companions’ privacy and discourages clients from treating it as some sort of catalogue.”
Mary Margaret’s expression softened.
“Actually, I kind of like that.”
“So did I.”
“Then how did you pick her?”
Regina hesitated.
“Profiles.”
“What did hers say?”
“Nothing of consequence.”
Mary Margaret smiled.
Regina knew that smile.
“No.”
“You liked her profile.”
“I selected the person best suited to the event.”
“You liked her.”
“I don’t know her.”
“You liked her profile.”
Regina sighed dramatically, opened the laptop and turned it around.
Mary Margaret practically lunged across the island.
The profile was simple.
EMMA, 34
Available for weddings, family events, formal functions and social engagements.
Comfortable with improvisation and complicated family dynamics.
Can convincingly discuss literature, politics, sport and why your aunt’s new conservatory is lovely.
Affection level: hand-holding, arm around waist, cheek kisses and reasonable public displays of affection.
Dancing costs extra.
Underneath, in smaller writing:
I have survived six weddings, three engagement parties, one christening and a family reunion involving an escaped goat. Whatever your family has planned, I’ve probably seen worse.
Mary Margaret stared at the screen.
Then at Regina.
Then back at the screen.
“You picked her because she’s funny.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“There were practical considerations.”
“You laughed at the goat.”
“I did not laugh.”
“You’re smiling now.”
Regina immediately stopped.
“She sounded competent.”
“She sounds hilarious.”
“She also had excellent reviews.”
“Of course you checked the reviews.”
“I am allowing a complete stranger to attend a family wedding and pretend we’ve been sleeping together for five months. Naturally I checked the reviews.”
Mary Margaret’s head snapped up.
“Sleeping together?”
Regina froze.
Mary Margaret’s grin became positively wicked.
“That’s going to come up.”
“It most certainly will not.”
“Your mother thinks you’ve had a girlfriend for five months.”
“My mother has boundaries.”
“Your mother asked about your eggs over brunch.”
Regina drained her wine.
“Get out.”
….
Emma Swan had rules.
She didn’t take bachelor parties.
She didn’t take bookings where the client requested specific clothing sizes.
She didn’t pretend to be anyone’s fiancée.
She absolutely did not sleep with clients.
And she never, ever accepted overnight weddings.
Which was why, on Friday afternoon, she was standing outside a ridiculously expensive hotel with an overnight bag hanging from her shoulder, reading the booking details for the fifteenth time.
CLIENT: REGINA
EVENT: FAMILY WEDDING
DURATION: FRIDAY 4PM – SUNDAY 11AM
ROLE: GIRLFRIEND
RELATIONSHIP LENGTH: FIVE MONTHS
AFFECTION: MODERATE
NOTES: FAMILY IS NOSY. CLIENT REQUESTS CONFIDENCE, DISCRETION AND STRONG IMPROVISATIONAL SKILLS.
Then, beneath that:
IMPORTANT: FAMILY BELIEVES COMPANION’S NAME IS EMMA.
Emma snorted.
“Well, lucky me.”
She shoved her phone into her pocket and walked through the doors.
The lobby was enormous.
Marble floors. Chandeliers. Flowers that probably cost more than her monthly rent.
Emma suddenly became painfully aware of the fact that her boots squeaked.
She crossed towards reception.
“Hi. I’m meeting someone.”
The receptionist smiled.
“Of course. Name?”
“Emma.”
“Surname?”
Emma paused.
Technically, clients weren’t supposed to know surnames until introductions were made in person.
“Swan.”
The receptionist looked at the screen.
“Ms Mills is expecting you in the lounge.”
Emma smiled.
“Thanks.”
She turned.
Stopped.
Turned back.
“Sorry. Mills?”
“Yes. Ms Regina Mills.”
Emma stared at her.
The receptionist’s smile faltered.
“Is everything all right?”
“No.”
A beat.
Emma cleared her throat.
“Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”
She walked away.
Regina Mills.
No.
No fucking way.
There were thousands of Reginas.
Well.
Maybe not thousands.
But enough.
There had to be.
And Mills wasn’t exactly rare.
She reached the entrance to the lounge.
Then she saw her.
Dark hair.
Perfect posture.
Black dress.
A glass of red wine sitting untouched beside her hand.
Regina Mills was looking down at her phone.
Emma stopped dead.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Regina looked up.
Their eyes met.
Nothing happened for approximately three seconds.
Then Regina stood.
“Emma?”
Emma stared at her.
Regina stared back.
“Swan?”
“Yep.”
“No.”
“That’s pretty much what I said.”
“No.”
Emma glanced around.
“Okay, well, this has been lovely.”
She turned.
“Wait.”
Emma stopped.
Regina had gone pale.
Actually pale.
Emma slowly looked back at her.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That it was me.”
“Obviously not.”
“You booked me.”
“I booked Emma.”
“That’s me.”
“I can see that.”
“Great. We’re caught up.”
Regina pressed two fingers against her temple.
Emma almost laughed.
Almost.
Because this was Regina Mills.
Regina fucking Mills.
The woman Emma had spent an embarrassing portion of her twenties trying not to stare at.
The woman who had been married to Leopold Mills when Emma had known her.
The woman who had barely seemed to notice Emma existed.
And now Emma was apparently being paid to pretend to be her girlfriend.
There was irony.
And then there was whatever cosmic joke this was.
Regina finally looked at her.
“You work for an escort agency?”
“Companion agency.”
“Yes, I’m aware of the terminology.”
“Then why’d you call it an escort agency?”
Regina’s eyes narrowed.
Emma smiled.
There she was.
That expression.
Emma remembered that expression.
Usually directed at students who arrived late to assemblies or teachers who had forgotten paperwork.
“You haven’t changed.”
Regina blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you look like you’re considering having someone publicly executed.”
“I have never made such a face.”
“You made it at me once because I parked in your space.”
“You parked in the headteacher’s parking space.”
“For seven minutes.”
“For forty-five.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You remember.”
Regina went very still.
Emma immediately wished she hadn’t said it.
Then Regina picked up her wine.
“Sit down.”
“That’s not a very romantic way to greet your girlfriend.”
Regina nearly inhaled the wine.
Emma grinned.
“Oh, this weekend is going to be fun.”
“It absolutely is not.”
“Five months, huh?”
Regina shut her eyes.
“Please stop talking.”
“How did we meet?”
“Charity event.”
“What charity?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma laughed.
“You don’t know?”
“It was an improvised lie.”
“Okay. What do I do?”
“Consulting.”
Emma stared.
“Consulting.”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Regina’s mouth tightened.
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
“Regina.”
“I was under pressure.”
Emma sat opposite her.
“This is incredible.”
“It is a disaster.”
“It’s incredible.”
“My family believes we’ve been together for five months.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“My mother has apparently told everyone about you.”
Emma’s smile disappeared.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Cora?”
Regina stared at her.
“You remember my mother’s name?”
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone knew your mother’s name.”
“Not everyone.”
Emma shrugged.
Regina watched her for a moment too long.
Emma looked away.
“So. Five months.”
“Five months.”
“We’re serious?”
“Moderately.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do I love you?”
Regina’s eyes widened.
Emma bit her lip.
“Sorry. Contract question.”
“No.”
“Right. You don’t love me either?”
“No.”
“That was fast.”
“Swan.”
Emma smiled.
God.
She’d missed hearing that.
Which was ridiculous.
Regina leaned forward.
“My family needs to believe that we are happily dating. Nothing more.”
“Okay.”
“We hold hands.”
“Fine.”
“You may touch my waist.”
“Scandalous.”
“Emma.”
“Sorry.”
“Occasional affection.”
“Cheek kiss?”
Regina hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Temple?”
Another hesitation.
“If appropriate.”
“Forehead?”
Regina stared at her.
“What?”
“I’m establishing parameters.”
“No forehead.”
“Very intimate. Got it.”
“Do you always behave like this with clients?”
“No.”
“Why me?”
Emma’s smile softened.
“Because you’re not a client.”
Regina’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
Emma swallowed.
“You’re Regina.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
It meant you were the first woman Emma Swan ever wanted badly enough to frighten herself.
It meant I used to know what perfume you wore because I could smell it in the corridor after you’d passed.
It meant I once stayed twenty minutes late at a staff meeting because you were sitting beside me.
It meant I had a stupid, impossible crush on a married woman and never told a living soul.
Instead Emma shrugged.
“It means I know you.”
Regina held her gaze.
“No, you don’t.”
Emma felt something unexpectedly sharp beneath her ribs.
“Fair enough.”
Regina looked away first.
Then a voice rang across the lounge.
“Regina!”
Regina froze.
Emma glanced over.
An elegant older woman was approaching them.
Regina whispered, “Fuck.”
Emma’s eyebrows shot up.
“Did Regina Mills just swear?”
“Emma.”
“Sorry. Processing.”
“That’s my mother.”
“I gathered.”
“She’s not supposed to be here until six.”
Cora was getting closer.
Regina reached for Emma’s hand.
Then stopped.
Emma looked down at the hovering fingers.
Back up at Regina.
Regina looked almost frightened.
And something in Emma shifted.
The teasing disappeared.
She turned her palm upwards.
“Hey.”
Regina looked at her.
“I’ve got you.”
For one strange second, Regina simply stared.
Then her fingers slid into Emma’s.
Emma squeezed.
Regina breathed out.
Cora reached them.
Her gaze immediately dropped to their joined hands.
Then lifted to Emma’s face.
“So.”
Emma stood.
Cora looked her up and down.
Emma had dealt with difficult mothers before.
She’d dealt with fathers who asked about salaries, sisters who deliberately brought up exes, grandmothers who demanded grandchildren and one uncle who’d spent forty minutes trying to catch her out on a fake medical degree.
She could handle Cora Mills.
Probably.
“You must be Emma.”
Emma smiled.
“And you must be the woman I’ve heard absolutely nothing terrifying about.”
Regina made a strangled sound beside her.
Cora’s eyebrows rose.
Emma smiled wider.
Then, to Emma’s astonishment, Cora laughed.
“Oh, Regina.”
Regina looked horrified.
Cora took Emma’s free hand between both of hers.
“I like her already.”
Emma glanced at Regina.
Regina stared back.
And Emma knew, instantly, exactly what that look meant.
Do not enjoy this.
Emma squeezed Regina’s hand.
Far too innocently.
“Don’t worry,” she told Cora. “I have that effect on people.”
Regina’s heel landed squarely on Emma’s boot.
Emma bit back a laugh.
This weekend was going to be an absolute nightmare.
And Emma suddenly couldn’t wait.