Mistakes Happen

2: Fessing Up

They say your heart can only beat so fast before it fails and gives out on you completely. Emma can't help but feel that has to be a myth because she's positive her heart rate has far exceeded the limit and yet she still stands here. Painfully alive in the one moment she wishes she could be anything but.

She is constantly reminded that what she should be doing is actually making an attempt to alert Killian of her presence, as she stands in front of the large, mahogany door of his home. But all she wants to do is savor a few more precious moments of peace before the world officially shifts around her and she has to try and deal with it all like the adult she is.

Being an adult is so overrated.

  The label on her empty bottle of water has been thoroughly twisted into a knot, a testament of just how nervous she really was. She knows what she has to do but everything in her screams to do the exact opposite.

Don't do it, Emma. Don't run from your problems.

Courage finally surfaces and she reaches up to the door, giving a few gentle knocks. Though she's actually convinced the sound of her heart pounding alone should of made Killian aware that someone was here. It certainly sounded loud enough in her ears.

Seconds passed proceeding, then minutes and she felt a moment's relief when she thought that maybe he wouldn't come to the door at all. But life was not favoring her lately. The door, stupid thing it was, swung open just as she was beginning to turn  around, a cheerful Killian standing in its frame.

"Emma. What brings you here, love?"

She mentally scoffs at his endearment. Him and his charming vocabulary. It's part of the reason they were in this mess right now.

"Um, I... We need to-"

Words had never been such a difficult thing to muster as they were proving to be in this moment.

She eventually settles for mumbling a nervous "Can I come in" under her breath.

" 'Course you can."

The tone in his voice had unmistakably shifted and she can't help but feel that maybe he already knows what she's here about. It doesn't exactly take a brilliant mind to piece it all together.

You sleep with a girl, said girl shows up at your stoop 9 weeks later with nobody else and an inability to speak. The only thing that could make it more obvious is if she had actually stamped 'pregnant' on her forehead in big, bold letters.

But whether he's figured it out for himself or not, she knows she still has to tell him. And if he's anything like her, he'll need to hear it time and time again just to come to terms with its truth.

So she excepts his welcome and walks past him, feeling his eyes on her all the way.

"You want coffee or something? Or would you prefer water..."

His eyes drift down, landing on her stomach.

He really does know.

"Water's fine."

He nods and all but stumbles over to the sink to make her a glass.