A Thief and a Queen

Welcome Home

July 24 - Adoption Day; the day where Regina and Robin welcome a new addition to their family.

This is set in the same verse as my story "Comfort Food."

Welcome Home

The office wasn't very welcoming. It was a small room with gray walls devoid of any decorations. The only furniture aside from the uncomfortable metal chairs they sat on was a desk with several folders scattered around the ancient computer and phone sitting on top. Nothing in this room seemed calm and nurturing, things she'd want in the room where she was to meet her child.

If she was even doing that. The social worker had been gone far too long in her opinion. She glanced at the clock in the room, swearing it had stopped.

"A watch pot never boils."

She frowned. "I'm sorry, I was not aware I married a fortune cookie."

Her husband chuckled, gently turning her head so she could see his bright blue eyes and reassuring smile. "Everything is going to be fine."

"How can you be so sure? What if the mother has changed her mind? What if the father has? What if something is wrong with the baby? What if we failed the background check?"

"We passed that weeks ago. I doubt something came up since then."

"I don't know." She narrowed her eyes. "And you swear you're not a serial killer?"

He let out a belly laugh as she relaxed in her chair. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he took her hands in his and played with her engagement and wedding rings. "No matter what happens, I still have you. And that's reassuring in and of itself."

"You're a sentimental fool." There was warmth and love in her voice and she knew he would take it as a compliment.

He nodded. "And either way, we're having mac and cheese, right?"

She laughed before resting her head on his shoulder. He was right—no matter what, she was leaving with him. And that was more than enough.

"Mr. and Mrs. Locksley?" A tall, balding man in a well-pressed suit stepped into the room cradling a bundle of blue blankets. "I'd like you to meet your son."

Regina stood, arms outstretched, in seconds. The social worker slid the bay into her arms. He slept on as she rocked him, taking in everything about him—his pink lips, button nose, tiny fingers and the soft wisps of brown fuzz that peeked out from under his blue cap. "He's perfect," she breathed.