Rules of Engagement - Regan/Emma (Patreon)

You know, the most fun I have with Regan and Emma is that I never quite know when I'm going to drop into their relationship, but I always know I'm going to enjoy my time with them...

You'll note that this isn't actually Valentine's Day themed - mostly because they have a very short engagement and get married in February, but I wanted to write a little bit about their actual engagement before their wedding, so here we are!

----------R&E----------

Rules of Engagement

Emma really had never envisioned herself as being engaged.

Not that she ever… didn’t… envision herself as being engaged, either. She’d never had anything against the institution of marriage. She just assumed that it likely wouldn’t be for her. No real basis behind it, technically.

But, she was.

She had a ring on her finger, glinting up at her in reminder.

She was engaged to Regan. As in, they were going to get married.

When she’d proposed, they’d spend the weekend shacked up together and she’d reveled in it. In ways Emma never even knew she could revel.

And their engagement had happened in the perfect way for Emma. She hadn’t been on the receiving end of the surprise – not great with surprises, which Regan knew but couldn’t always promise to not surprise her. They’d found a good middle ground over the last few years – and they’d talked extensively about what they both wanted for their futures, both individually and together.

And with her promotion, the timing was right – things were falling into place.

… when things just happened to be falling into place, Emma undeniably felt herself bracing for the other shoe to drop. That was just life, wasn’t it? Things weren’t always perfect and pristine, all of the time.

That was impossible.

She just hadn’t known that she’d start to feel that shoe drop pretty quickly after their weekend away.

***

Emma’s mind was turning over the notes from the meeting she’d had with her editor, as she closed the door behind her and walked into the apartment.

She placed her keys into their designated spot, noting that Regan’s keys were also in their designated spot. Which made her smile.

Both because Regan was home, and because the great organization system was functioning as intended. When was the last time Regan’s keys had been missing, now that there was a designated hook right next to the door? Accompanied by a sign – that Emma had even crafted herself – reminding Regan to put her keys there.

The sign was even outlined with small fairy lights, so you really couldn’t miss it.

Regan adored it. And there were never any lost keys. Win-win.

She’d walked farther into the apartment, unsurprised when she heard both Sutton and Regan in the kitchen.

Her only surprise came from the mass of… things spread out. All over the table, on what felt like all available counter space. Their kitchen wasn’t big by anyone’s standards, but with everything spread out all over it, she felt claustrophobic just looking at it.

“What is all this?” She asked, gesturing, well, everywhere.

But mostly focused where Sutton and Regan were focused – on the huge book spread open in front of them, that took up literally the entire, admittedly small, table.

“Wedding planning stuff!” Regan informed her, brightly.

She popped up from her chair, nearly tripping over… was that tulle on the floor? As she popped up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Emma’s lips.

She barely had the presence of mind to kiss Regan back, still feeling dumbfounded by the sheer amount of stuff everywhere.

“Ah… what kind of stuff?” She asked, reaching up and rubbing at her temple.

A long day at work, combined with an unexpected overwhelming state at home was always a recipe for a headache.

Sutton shot her an apologetic wince, before she answered, “Since I knew you were getting engaged this weekend, I got everything prepared that I possibly could think of. Given the weddings that have happened in my family–”

“And, what is sure to be the wedding event of the season when you and Charlotte get engaged,” Regan jumped in, wiggling her eyebrows with that conspiratorial grin.

One that Sutton shared, even as she flushed slightly with her own obvious excitement. When Emma had told Sutton over a month ago about her plan to propose to Regan, Sutton had looked at her for a long moment, before laughing softly and showing Emma the engagement ring she’d purchased for Charlotte. “I suppose we really were meant to mirror one another,” Sutton had joked, repeating something Regan had taken to saying about how their relationship timelines had happened so close together.

Sutton’s lips were ticked into a sweet little smile, even as she shrugged and cleared her throat, re-focusing. “Yes, well, this isn’t about me right now, it’s about you. The both of you,” she aimed a look up to Emma, making sure to include her with her gentle excitement, the calm-but-excited counterpart to Regan’s boisterousness. “But, yes, given my own proposal plans and then once learning about Emma’s, I’ve been knee-deep in some serious wedding planning conversations with my mom. When she came to visit two weeks ago, we put this together.”

Regan’s mouth fell open. “Is that what you two were doing when I announced I was coming over with brunch and you were all squirrely and said you’d already gone to brunch without me?”

Sutton rolled her eyes. “Yes! We were heads-down all day, working on putting this together! My mom came prepared with everything to make us both this wedding guide.”

“Ironic, considering you’ll definitely have a wedding planner,” Regan murmured, nudging Sutton’s shoulder with her own.

Sutton only nodded, pursing her lips absently. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to get too deep into thinking about my possible upcoming wedding right now, given that Charlotte hasn’t even said yes to me yet–”

Both Regan and Emma let out simultaneous barks of incredulous laughter, and for Emma, it was much-needed connection. Especially when Regan darted a look at her, that laughter still on her face and her eyes sparkling at her.

“What do you think she would say? No? You think Charlotte Thompson is going to turn you down?!” Regan asked, through her chuckling. With every word she said, she clearly grew more amused at herself, more amused at even the thought of Charlotte not agreeing to marry Sutton.

Sutton’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked back down at the book and muttered, “Easy for you to say; you’re not the one planning a proposal. Ask Emma. It’s nerve-wracking, even if you don’t have doubts about your relationship.”

Regan immediately turned to Emma, her laughter fading even though the look on her face was one of disbelief. “No way. You couldn’t have actually believed I would say no?”

Emma held her hands up in defeat. “I have to agree with Sutton. I didn’t think you were going to say no.” Of course not, because Regan was the most affirming and genuinely loving person possibly in the world. “But,” she hedged, “There’s still always a little bit of nerves. And there should be,” she couldn’t help but add on.

Regan’s mouth dropped open in fake affront, clapping her hands over Sutton’s ears. “Love of my life! You can’t say that to Sutton right now!”

Sutton reached up and swatted her away. “I just told you that I have some nerves, you know I’m already feeling it.”

Emma shrugged in self-defense. “Look, all I’m saying is that getting married is a big deal.” At least, it should be. Why go through the process of legally binding yourself with another person if you weren’t taking it seriously? “If you’re going into it with the mindset of making a life-long commitment to someone, it’s a huge thing. If you don’t have any nerves, even if they’re, you know, excited ones or whatever, then you aren’t thinking it all the way through.”

She’d been nervous the entire day that she’d been planning to propose. Even though she’d thought through every detail, even though she and Regan had talked about it being the right time, even though she knew with ninety-nine percent certainty Regan would say yes.

Regan drew her lips to the side, before giving her a slow, considering nod. “Okay, all right, I give in.” She shook her hair back, clearing her throat. “Now! Babe, light of my world, you are going to die when you look at this book,” Regan tapped her fingers on the page in front of her, giving her one of those gorgeous, excited smiles.

Emma wasn’t touching Regan, but she could still feel her vibrating with energy.

Dubiously, she ran her eyes over said book.

It was thick as hell, and it made a spike of anxiety slither through her just by a glance. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” she muttered.

Regan nodded. “Look at this.” She reached over Sutton to grab the other end of the hard cover closing the book so that Emma could see the pages. “Tell me this doesn’t appeal to you,” she challenged, her expression very much saying that she knew she’d won.

The pages were tabbed and appeared color-coded, organized as hell.

“You got me there,” she acquiesced.

And yes, if Emma took all of the context out of the contents, she did love that kind of thoughtful – as Regan liked to say, anal-retentive – organization.

“And,” Regan flipped the book back open, running her fingertips over the page. “Look at all of these pockets! That’s where all of these papers have come from! This book holds everything, it’s like a bottomless purse.”

Because Emma knew Regan, she put together that was where all of the other scattered bits and bobs had come from. Knowing her girlfriend – fiancée – she’d pulled out all of the additions as they’d gone through each section to scour through everything individually, and set it aside so she could lay it all out in front of her, so it was easier to focus on. Hence the somewhat controlled chaos.

She tilted her head and glanced at some of the tabs, making out what she could read from here.

Venue

Dining

Refreshments

Décor

Favors

Dress

Invitations

And a handful of others. There were then sub-tabs in each section, and Emma couldn’t make out what they were from here, but… jesus christ.

“Yeah, that’s…” She trailed off, feeling that fluttery feeling climb higher in her stomach. “Intense.”

Everyone knew Regan loved intense.

And Emma… well, she loved Regan.

She tilted her head over her shoulder, down the hall. “I’m going to get situated. Post-work come down and all.”

Regan bounded right back over to her, hitting her knee against her errant chair that she hadn’t pushed back in. Yes, as soon as Regan was right up against Emma once more, she could feel that excited vibration reverberating through her fiancée’s body, as she pressed another quick kiss to her lips.

“I will give you the run-down later,” Regan promised, and god, she really was so fucking endearing, with that sweet, earnest tone. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she echoed, turning around.

She was already prepared for and expecting the tap on her ass when she turned around. Yep, and the extra squeeze for good measure.

She was no longer embarrassed about that kind of thing in front of Sutton – after they’d all lived together, Emma had to really make peace with the fact that Sutton would bear witness to some PDA. She’d drawn the boundary for certain displays of affection in public, but if she wanted to stop Sutton from seeing anything, she’d have had to draw the line at home. And she could only do that if she didn’t want to experience Regan’s very effusive and tactile affections.

But, she did want them. She really did. All of the little, physical ways that Regan made her feel desired and adored were so… special to her.

She headed for the bathroom, needing to get her hands on some ibuprofen.

So, Emma had never imagined herself getting engaged, and now she did and she was, and that was wonderful.

But it was occurring to her right now that while she had certainly never put much thought – any thought – into a wedding, that Regan very well might have.

That while they’d discussed at-length what they wanted for the future after their wedding and about the timing of their engagement, they hadn’t talked very much about the literal wedding itself.

Emma, genuinely, hadn’t thought to. Which was a massive oversight on her end, because she was the forward-thinker. But… the idea of a wedding seemed so simple and straightforward to her.

Apparently, that wasn’t necessarily going to be the case.

***

Emma had always had really good boundaries.

Maybe she could be persnickety, maybe she could be defensive – she’d been perceived as those things and more many times over the years. And she’d accepted it as a bi-product of having her boundaries.

She’d learned relatively young that people who didn’t respect your hard lines took boundaries very personally.

But her boundaries were somewhat failing her, as of late.

Or, she was failing them?

Whichever was the better way to phrase it, the reality was that she’d found having boundaries was difficult when planning a wedding.

Because there was Regan and her beautiful smile and adoring eyes and excitement around all of the conversations and planning.

And all of it really compounded the following week, when they’d gone to her Gram’s for dinner.

Which, really, she should have expected. That was on her. At least, it would have been, had she known Kimberly would be joining them. At this point, she honestly appreciated the times that Kimberly made a point of aligning her schedule to meet up with them to see gram for dinner. It made Emma’s life a lot easier, visiting both her mom and grandmother without needing to go to New Jersey.

She even liked when her mom brought her sisters, which usually only happened on weekends.

They were in a positive place. Everything was good. Easy. They talked about life. They played cards. They occasionally went on walks. Sometimes they went down and let Regan loose in the kitchen and she attracted a crowd of the elderly.

Tonight, things felt… less good.

Because she found herself neck-deep in discussions about wedding planning instead of baking or going on a walk or playing cards.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get in a round of rummy?” She asked her grandmother, waving a deck of said cards in the air as if it would entice her. She wondered if her ardent desire for her gram to agree to change the topic away from wedding planning was evident. “Bridge? Cribbage?”

But Gram waved her hand, giving her a smile. “I took Phoebe for everything she was worth earlier.”

Somehow, even her grandmother – typically so sensible – was roped into the madness. After they’d had dinner, Emma and her grandmother had sat at the card table, while Kimberly and Regan had both squeezed into her gram’s recliner. But even from her perch several feet away, Gram was invested.

“And I was thinking about Rodgers Hall for a possible venue,” Kimberly eagerly suggested, leaning into Regan’s shoulder as she had Regan pull up various “possible plans” on her iPad.

Apparently, Kimberly had already bookmarked about a thousand pages for this.

Regan’s mouth dropped open. “That – this is gorgeous. Babe, look.”

She took a deep breath and looked up to see the image Regan was showing her. “It is gorgeous,” she agreed, because it was.

“This is just me assuming, of course, that you aren’t having some sort of church ceremony…?” Kimberly asked, glancing between them.

Both she and Regan recoiled at that, exchanging a look at the exact same time, wearing matching frowns. “No. Definitely not,” Regan confirmed.

“But,” Emma cut in, “Mom, look at that place. I can’t even imagine the cost to rent it out for a wedding.”

Even the idea of it made a spiral of anxiety slither through her.

Kimberly’s hand slammed over her heart, and she reeled back as though Emma had assaulted her. “Emma Bo Bemma, no! Of course not.” She paused, looking between Emma and Regan, before she cleared her throat and an excited smile was already tugging at her lips. “I know we haven’t talked about it, yet, but… Ted and I would really like to pay for the wedding. Really, really,” she added with an exuberant nod, before Emma could say anything.

Kimberly put her hand on Regan’s knee, patting softly. “I know things are… complicated with your parents, and I certainly don’t want you stressing about money during this.”

Regan’s eyes were wide and emotional. “I…” She trailed off, glancing at Emma, then back at Kimberly. “That’s really generous of you. And you’re right, about my parents.”

Emma couldn’t control her scowl at the very mention of them. Regan had called them to inform them about her wedding, and their response had been stiff, formal, and distant. The call had lasted barely five minutes, and Regan had done her best to shake it off, because – to Regan’s accurate words – it wasn’t a surprise.

“Um, but the good news is that the Spencers, actually have offered – well, they didn’t offer; Katherine insisted – to pay for the venue and the rehearsal dinner,” Regan informed Kimberly, with a sweet but still a little sad smile on her lips.

One that tugged right at Emma’s heart, even as she secretly wished some sort of harm on the Gallaghers. Not serious harm, just something small.

What was she supposed to do? Tell her mother who was bursting at the seams to help plan and pay for a big wedding that she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, when Regan had parents who barely even cared?

No, she couldn’t do that.

Kimberly reached up and wrapped her arm around Regan’s shoulders, crushing Regan into her.

The squeak Regan emitted made Emma smile, genuinely, regardless of the unease filtering through her.

She would get used to this. The idea of having all of this time, money, and energy directed at this wedding that was, apparently, going to be a huge spectacle, where she was part of the center of attention…

She’d get used to it.

Especially if it made Regan smile the way she was right now over Kimberly’s shoulder.

***

“Hey, you,” Emma murmured, padding into the kitchen, her lips curling into a grin.

She’d been hunkered down in the room that used to be Sutton’s – had once been her own for several months – that was now an office, working on an article.

Her eyes were tired and she’d had to switch from her contacts to her glasses over an hour ago because she’d been up so late working last night, and was working against her deadline today, and the irritation from her lenses was still killing her. She had to slide a finger under her glasses to rub at her eyes, cracking a yawn even though it wasn’t even five –

Wait. She paused where she stood, doubling back to check the time over the stove.

It was four-fifty, and Regan was home. She’d been working today until four, and then had been planning on going out with Sutton and Charlotte for dinner. A dinner that Emma was more than fine with missing because, first, her deadline. And second, they were now almost a month into this engagement, and Sutton and Charlotte had also just gotten engaged, and she knew that dinner would be wedding-planning-palooza.

She took a closer look at Regan, and kicked herself for not doing so as soon as she’d entered the room. Because her fiancée didn’t look like herself, not her typical self, anyway.

She looked contemplative and a little… sad?

“Is everything okay?”

“You don’t have second thoughts about us. Right?” Regan shook her head, reaching both of her hands up to wave at Emma like she could physically erase her words. “Wait, no, that’s not how you’re supposed to ask something like that.”

Emma’s exhaustion was immediately washed away with confusion and concern, and she pulled out the other chair at the table, scooting in so her knees were brushing against Regan’s thighs. “What are you talking about?”

She wracked her mind, wondering when – if ever – Regan would have ever wondered that, before. Regan really wasn’t an insecure person, certainly not in their relationship.

It was something Emma found incredibly attractive about her, how physically and emotionally open Regan was. Maybe what she found the most attractive about her. And, in return, Emma had literally felt herself rise to the occasion. Even if she’d had insecurities, physically and emotionally, in the past with Felicity, it was so shockingly easy to leave them in the past.

With Regan, she never had to question or wonder if she was happy or what she wanted. And because of the security she had in that, it was so simple to give that right back to Regan in return.

“I should have said: do you have any second thoughts about our engagement?” Regan’s eyes were dark and searching, running over Emma’s face. “You can tell me if you do. I really just want you to be honest. Like, actually, I need it.”

“Regan,” she started, pausing as she looked for whatever words felt the most natural to say, feeling entirely lost. “Why would you ask me that?”

Regan’s eyebrows drew together deeply, in obvious consternation, and her dark eyes were so upset. She wasn’t crying, but Emma knew Regan so well, that she knew it wasn’t far off.

“Emma, tell me the truth. Whatever you’re feeling.”

And even though she was nervous, she did feel safe here, with Regan. In their kitchen, in their home, with Regan’s big, dark eyes imploring her. Begging her to spill whatever was on her mind.

She owed that to Regan, didn’t she? The truth and vulnerability Regan always gave her?

Even if it might hurt?

She glanced down at her lap, where her fingers were intertwined, gazing at her ring. Her heart was pounding harder with the nerves that tangled together in her stomach, but she braced herself against it all, and admitted, “I… don’t really want all of this.”

Yeah, saying it aloud did not make her feel better.

In fact, it made her feel even more anxious.

Especially when Regan’s face went immediately blank. All emotion and expression gone, the littlest gleam of hope that had been in her eyes was snuffed out, right in front of Emma’s eyes.

It was so starting, and it left her utterly cold inside, a fresh wave of panic ebbing in.

“Yeah,” Regan murmured, her voice thick. She blinked her gaze down away from Emma, landing on her own hands.

Emma’s eyes also landed on Regan’s hands.

Specifically because she was spinning her engagement ring slowly around… before she slid it right off.

Aghast and fucking baffled, Emma darted her hands out and gripped Regan’s before they could move any farther. “What are you doing?!” She flexed her hands over Regan’s, a different – and far, far worse – kind of anxiety than she’d felt gnawing at her before swallowed her whole. “Why are you taking off your ring?”

Since they’d gotten engaged, Regan only took her ring off for a handful of reasons: she didn’t like to wear it when baking or cooking, because of the high frequency of mess, and – now – when she was showering, because a few days ago when her hands had been all soapy, the ring had slipped off.

Regan stared back up at her, having the gall to look confused herself. “You just said that you don’t want this! And I can tell, Emma. I’ve tried not to see it, not to read into it, because I kept telling myself: if Emma felt like this, she would tell me. But you haven’t. And you always tell me how you feel, even when it’s negative. So I have really tried to believe it’s something else.”

She paused, and Emma could see her swallow as she pursed her lips, waiting for a beat before she continued.

And when she did, her voice was lower, raspy and emotional. “I wasn’t snooping,” she swore, her eyes boring into Emma’s. “But… I was in the office last night. And your laptop wasn’t closed. And I was just excited about the article you’ve been working on.”

Oh. Well, then.

Emma’s stomach sank, even without Regan explaining more. Because she knew where she’d left her laptop open to, right at the top of her article, entitled:

How the hell did I end up here?

And it did start out talking about her feelings on marriage and her stress and how overwhelming this was, and she had not intended for Regan to see that, at all.

Before Regan could continue, the words were falling out of Emma’s mouth, “That’s – the title isn’t the entirety of the article, though. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married to you,” she swore.

She looked down, tugging Regan’s hand into hers and gently sliding the engagement ring that was halfway down her finger back up, situating it rightfully into place.

Seeing it there made her breathe a little easier again.

“There,” she murmured, stroking her finger over the band.

God, she could have never imagined that this would mean something to her.

But the fact that it did was undeniable.

“So, what does it mean?” Regan asked, and – thankfully – that lightness had started to creep back into her expression. Maybe not entirely, but she didn’t look like Emma had just singlehandedly destroyed her dreams, either.

Emma took in a deep, calming breath, keeping Regan’s hands in hers and maintaining that connect, as she explained, “It means… we aren’t the Spencers. And we definitely aren’t the Thompsons.” The shudder that worked its way out of her was entirely unplanned, but very real. “Our wedding isn’t some kind of public event. It’s not a spectacle of the season. At least, I really don’t want it to be.”

She could hear the intensity in her own voice, giving way to the muted anxiety she felt every time she thought about what a big thing their wedding was becoming. Like she’d said, it was nowhere close to what Sutton and Charlotte’s would be. Hell, those two were barely even engaged yet, and it was already a Whole Thing. If that was Emma’s life, she’d be having full-blown panic attacks every day.

Thankfully, it wasn’t.

“Okay… like you said, though, we aren’t the Spencers or the Thompsons,” Regan gently knocked her thigh into Emma’s, cajoling her. “No matter what, our wedding won’t be like that.”

“I know,” she acknowledged, before wincing, “But I’m still really stressed about it.” She held Regan’s eyes with her own as she elaborated, “Sutton has her whole book filled with her wedding plans and ideas. Katherine has already decided to pay for things. My mom and gram are thrilled and losing their minds over – I don’t even know, what kind of plates to use? Flower arrangements?”

So. Many. Ridiculous. Details. And it felt like they were never ending. There were always new things to talk about, it seemed. New things to make decisions about, new things to pay for, new things to try out and make sure they were suitable, new details to keep track of.

“I don’t want to be the center of attention in some giant, grand venue. And I think it’s absolutely insane to spend this much money on a wedding. Even if Kimberly and Ted can afford it, even if the Spencer family wants to gift the payment for the venue. Even if we could afford to spend a million dollars on a wedding without blinking an eye, I don’t want it,” the truth burst from her, dripping with emotion, but it felt so damn good to finally be said.

She lifted one of her hands, holding up a finger as she continued, the words falling out now that she’d started, “First, because I think it’s wild to spend that much money a single day. This kind of money could be a down payment on a whole house! Something people could make use of for decades!”

Like, was Emma the only person who thought this was insane?! The last several weeks had made her believe so.

She held up another finger. “Second, and related to the first, the wedding industrial complex is running a giant scam, and now we’re going to be complicit in it?! Ugh.”

A smile pulled up at Regan’s full lips.

Emma bit her lip, willing herself to stop, but Regan nodded at her, “No, keep going.”

She held up a third finger, “The very idea of being the center of attention for so many people – and it is so many people. How did the guest list you started talking about with my mom and Sutton and Katherine become over a hundred people?! You and I combined don’t keep in regular contact with a hundred people. So why are we supposed to have a really intimate and meaningful day with all of those people watching? Saying vows in front of them? Having them watch us dance? Basically have them be watching us all night? And then, we’re going to have to walk around talking to everyone and greeting them – all the while, stressing about all of the details to make sure everything went the way it was supposed to.”

She tossed her hands into the air, impassioned. “I just – what is wrong with us doing something small?! Lowkey? Our friends. Family. The people we actually have relationships with, not, like, my stepfather’s aunt or whatever. A small ceremony, a party somewhere that doesn’t cost the price of our first-born child–”

“So, we’re definitely having a child?” Regan cut in with a teasing smile.

Even as she rolled her eyes, she was relieved as hell to see that grin.

“Let’s focus on the wedding first,” she murmured, dourly.

“Right,” Regan conceded, waving at her. “Please, my whole heart, continue. Take it home.”

“All I’m going to say to wrap up my speech is: none of this feels right to me. And not,” she added, firmly, “the part where we’re getting married.” She ducked her head, making sure Regan was looking her in the eye. “Regan, I love you. I don’t have regrets or concerns about that.”

She let that sit between them, needing to make sure Regan heard that if nothing else.

Before she reached up, rubbing at her temples and trying to will away the stress headache she was starting to get every time she thought about wedding planning. “It’s everything else, outside of us, that concerns me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me this?” Regan pressed, turning to fully face Emma in her chair. “When Sutton came over with the book, or when Kimberly was picking out flowers, or when we arranged that meeting with a caterer?”

“Because I… you seemed so into it.” She deflated, shrugging her shoulders, feeling guilty for both taking this way from Regan when she had seemed so into it, and second, guilty for not having said something in the last few weeks. “And the last thing I want for us to start off our marriage is to disappoint you.”

“Yes, and the first thing I want in our marriage is you being upset by everything happening on our big day,” Regan sarcastically shot back. “Come on, babe.”

“I can get on board with it,” she insisted. She could, if that was what Regan really wanted.

“You can’t even say that without grimacing!” Regan pointed out, literally pointing her finger at Emma’s face.

Shit. Had she been grimacing?

She reached up and grabbed Regan’s hand, tugging it down to her lap. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Yes, it is,” Regan agreed.

With that, she popped up from her own chair and maneuvered herself into Emma’s lap. Her legs bracketing Emma’s thighs, as she settled her arms over Emma’s shoulders, and she felt Regan’s fingers start toying with her hair.

Regan loved to do this, Emma had learned much earlier in their relationship. She loved to settle herself in Emma’s lap, pressing against her like this, and, in turn, Emma had developed a serious affinity for it, as well.

Feeling all of Regan’s weight leaning into her, being literally enveloped by her – physically and by her scent.

She tipped her head back with Regan’s slight tug on her hair, her eyes already slipping closed because she knew this move –

And Regan’s mouth was on hers, just as expected.

Her fingers tunneled into Emma’s hair, massaging her scalp as her warm, soft lips slid against Emma’s. Giving her the gentlest of kisses, something sweet and affirming, until she settled against Emma more firmly, sliding her tongue over Emma’s lip.

Emma didn’t need to be coaxed. She never did. She had her arms around Regan, holding her in her lap as she sighed softly into Regan’s mouth.

She hadn’t even known how much she’d needed this, this physical reassurance, until she was literally feeling it. But after seeing those high-intensity emotions on Regan’s face… yes, she really did need it.

Regan hummed quietly against her lips as she pulled back. “It is going to be fine,” she echoed from moments ago.

Emma blinked her eyes open.

And soon as she did, it seemed like that was what Regan had been waiting for, as she continued, “Because we’re going to cancel all of the big, overwhelming plans.”

Emma’s hands tightened on her hips, but before she could dig in her heels and insist, Regan ducked down and pressed another, firm, kiss on Emma’s lips. Effectively silencing her.

Regan was so good at that.

She pulled back, sliding her hands to Emma’s shoulders.

“Emma, I want the same thing you want. The only thing that actually matters to me is that we’re getting married. I’m only excited about the wedding because it’s a celebration that is all about us About how much I freaking love you. I want it to be fun. And I’m not going to be having fun if my blushing bride is grumpy.”

“I wouldn’t be grumpy,” she denied with a mutter.

“Mhmm,” Regan hummed, lightly rubbing her thumb over Emma’s bottom lip. “Tell that to your face, gorgeous. I love being able to see how you feel. And – call me crazy – but I think that starting our legal joining of lives together by you merely putting up with the day that should be a good time? Kinda sets a bad precedent.”

“You might be right,” she agreed, stroking her hands up over the soft curve of Regan’s waist, tilting her head back so she could get a proper look, directly at her, taking her completely in.

With the way her head was blocking the light, it created a halo effect that was almost dizzying.

Regan beamed. “Thank you, I am right.” She searched Emma’s eyes with her own, moving to keep both of her hands firmly settled on Emma’s shoulders again, as if needing to keep her in place as she said, “Emma, I really do mean this. And I need you to hear me when I say it: I’m not Sutton. I haven’t been dreaming about some sort of wedding since we were kids. I didn’t ever really think I was going to get to this point in a relationship. And, really, I didn’t care that much. As long as it’s you and me, that’s all I care about.”

Emma stared intently at her studying her expression. Wanting to make completely sure that Regan wasn’t simply telling her something she wanted to hear to make her feel better.

But, like usual, there wasn’t any sign in Regan’s open expression that she was hiding anything or being duplicitous.

Everything in Emma that had been wound up so tightly for the last few weeks loosened, and she felt like she could melt in relief.

“I wasn’t going to send in my article until I had you read it, first,” she informed Regan, sliding her thumb back and forth over the soft material of Regan’s sweatshirt. “Do you want to take a look?”

“Is the sky blue?” Regan shot back, her grin widening into something bright and excited. “I love getting my exclusive first look.”

Emma reached around her, blindly reaching to the table where she’d plunked her phone down when she’d sat. “It wasn’t what I’d planned to write,” she said, biting at her bottom lip.

And it really hadn’t been. They’d discussed big life events in terms of potential human interest stories, and her engagement had come up, and so, she’d started to write her submission.

She still felt a little nervous the whenever she gave Regan her articles, because Regan was always the first person to read over her first drafts. But Regan’s feedback was always not only effusive and sweet, but – at this point, unsurprisingly – very thoughtful.

She felt her heart beating hard as she watched Regan read, following along until she knew Regan was getting toward the end.

That’s how I feel during all of these wedding conversations, and I am always left wondering: am I the weird one? Where are the women who agree with me on this? Are we such a small group?

If someone had asked me at any point in my life whether or not I could stomach the idea of spending twenty thousand dollars on a venue for a party, I wouldn’t even be able to take the question seriously, let alone answer it. I wouldn’t have been able to bite my tongue about my feelings on the matter, that’s for damn sure.

So: how did I end up here?

I feel anxious throughout these conversations, but then I look over and I see the smile that warms me from the inside out.

I see the eyes that look at me as though I’m the most beautiful person that exists on this earth.

I see the woman that I love in ways I never imagined I’d love anyone. The woman that loves me in ways I never believed possible.

Maybe I’d be uncomfortable or anxious for a single day, but if that day is what makes this woman feel special, happy, celebrated, loved… then I’d do it multiple times.

And there’s always the answer: she is how I ended up here, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.  

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.