The Secrets Her Heart Keeps

Chapter Seven

"Are you done?" Henry questions with his full eagerness vibrating from his body like bass pouring from a speaker.

She glances up to find her son squirming with anticipation, his lips slightly twitching to remain silent. She smirks to herself and hums softly as her eyes fall down to the cards descending in numerical order.

"You know, honey," she pauses, simply for dramatic effect and slowly slithers her fingers toward a certain pile on the table between them. "...you were never good at your poker face when we played this game when you were younger."

"Mom, I don't think we've played this game since I was eight. I don't think a poker face was really something I could comprehend at that age," he flatly replies.

"Hmmm," slowly she places the pile on top of the other pile and holds back her laughter when she hears her son's groan of disappointment. "Still, not your best suit, my prince."

A small chuckle tumbles from Henry's lips from the old familiar nickname. Ever since that little boy was first placed into her arms, he was always her little prince and she thinks somewhere deep inside, he still loves hearing that name, of course, when they are in private.

"If I remember correctly, you used to leave spaces open, so I could win..." his words trail off as his mischievous eyes flick toward hers. "Right?"

"I have no recollection of this," she flippantly replies and sets down her last card. "However, none of that matters because right now, I just won."

Henry groans deeply, bitterly tossing down his cards. "Of course, you did. You always win."

"I thought you just said I used to lose on purpose?"

"When I was small and cute you did."

"You're still cute, my little prince," she teases through a pout, reaching across the small table to grip his pointed chin. Her heart instantly swells when her son doesn't shy away, but also smiles so tenderly at her.

"Mom," he pauses for a moment and the way his eyes glisten against the soft glow in the room, whispers the heartache he has been facing as of lately. She slowly releases his chin, but gazes right back into those sorrowful eyes, so he knows whatever is on his mind, he can trust her. "Y-you're going to be fine, right?"

Her heart immediately ceases in her chest from the gentle concern. "Of course, Henry." She scrounges up all the love she has for her child to paint the broadest smile across her face to help ease his worry. "Why would you even ask that?"

His long nimble fingers find purpose against a loose strand on his shorts, he's fidgeting because whatever he must have to say, he knows in his heart, she doesn't want to discuss.

"I know-" he abruptly stops, his mouth slamming shut, and his eyes cast down to his lap before he sighs, "when I leave, you'll be all alone in the house. At least Emma has Hook, but you'll be alone."

"Henry, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she laughs lightly to chip away the tangible tension vibrating between them. "You do realize I spent eighteen years alone in that home before you, right?" She smirks in a teasing manner, but her son is not accepting anything she has to offer.

"T-that's not really..."

"Oh god, that cold shower felt too good," Emma sighs happily, strutting confidently into the room, completely oblivious of the private conversation she just forced to an end. "By the way, I got a really good picture of you guys playing cards. What's the name of that game anyways?"