HAPPY (somewhat belated) BIRTHDAY MIMIJAG! Though you saw the last of this story? THINK AGAIN!

So before I wrote Brighton Beach Holiday, I had asked dear Mimi for some advice on what to write. *THIS* chapter was one of the "rejected ideas", but Mimi revealed that she loved the idea so much I decided to "file it away" for another day...and that day has come! Anyway, I hope you like it and who knows!? Maybe there's more to come from this universe! :o) Thank you for reading! Oh, and this particular chapter is rated T ;oP

Three Years Later…

"Now THIS is a holiday…" Tom announced, grinning as he felt the sea breeze strike his face. "Don't you agree, love?"

Tom turned his head towards his wife, but his smile vanished at the wincing expression he saw on her face, as if she were in some kind of pain.

Panic suddenly seized him. "Sybil?" Oh God, it was happening—but it was too soon, surely!? She wasn't due—

"Oh God, I really need a toilet!" Sybil groaned.

Tom blinked…and then started to cough in an effort to mask the relieved laugh that had escaped his throat at her revelation.

Sybil, naturally, saw right through it. "It's not funny," she muttered. "You try being seven months pregnant—"

"Here we are!"

Sybil's retort died on her lips at the sight of the approaching beach cabin. Tom had barely put the car in park before she was scrambling out, desperate to get inside to use the very thing she had been groaning about not a few seconds earlier.

While Sybil was finding relief, Tom was bringing their suitcases into the cabin, chuckling softly to himself as he picked a room for them. As was tradition, the rest of the Bransons would be joining them for the long holiday weekend, but he and Sybil both had some spare vacation days with their respective work places, and managed to combine the annual family holiday with a personal one as well. His sisters and their families wouldn't be descending on Brighton until the day after next, which meant for at least tonight and the following day, he and Sybil had the cabin all to themselves.

She finally emerged from the loo and Tom couldn't help but smile, her expression bashful, but her skin glowing from the beauty of impending motherhood. "This room alright?" he asked as she entered.

Sybil nodded her head and then gently sat down on the edge of the bed. Tom came around and sat beside her, his hands going to her shoulders and then moving down her spine to her lower back to help work out the knots he knew were there from sitting in the car. "Better?" he whispered into her ear, smiling as she answered by way of what could be called a "satisfied purr". "And how's the wee one?" he asked, smiling down at her belly.

"She's equally excited to be here," Sybil sighed, her hand running over her bump in a soothing gesture. "She can't stop jumping."

Tom chuckled and brought one of his hands around to massage Sybil's belly and his "jumping" daughter beneath. "Hey, little one, let's give your Mam a rest for the night, aye?"

Sybil sighed and then gave a shake of her head. "I confess, it's both amazing and a bit annoying…"

Tom looked up at her. "What is?"

"Your 'superpower'!" Sybil teased. "She'll be bouncing around in there for what feels like hours, but you just give a whisper and a little pat of her hand, and she stops!" She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to look stern but failing as she couldn't help but smile. "She's not even born yet, but you got her wrapped around your little finger."

"Trust me, love, when she's born, it will be the other way around," he chuckled, then lowered his head and planted his lips against her belly. "Now, are you hungry?" he asked, looking up at Sybil, his resting on her stomach.

Sybil reached down and ran her fingers through Tom's hair, smiling as he gave an appreciative sigh at the gesture. "Actually…maybe we can eat something later?"

Tom's eyes, which had fluttered closed as she massaged his scalp, quickly shot open at her words. A cheeky grin spread across his face as he looked up at her. "Later? Why Mrs. Branson, whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play the innocent, darling, you never could pull it off," she groaned, but then gave a little yelp as she felt Tom grab her legs and hoist them up onto the bed, the action causing her to fall backwards against the mattress, her hair fanning out across the pillow.

"Well, if milady doesn't want 'innocent'…" he chuckled, while making quick work of helping her out of her clothes.

Sybil laughed and grinned and then began to sigh and moan. She loved Tom, loved him more than she thought she ever could love another person. And she loved how he always was able to make her feel beautiful and precious, especially when she felt the exact opposite (which was becoming a bit more common, now as she was reaching the final months of her pregnancy). In truth, she had been reluctant about this year's Branson get-together; one didn't see too many pregnant women on the beach, or at least not seven, nearly eight-month pregnant women. She had to buy a special swimsuit (although she had been tempted not to get one at all, but Tom convinced her in the end), and even though she had been desperate to get inside their cabin when they first pulled up to it, Sybil hadn't missed that the cabin next door happened to be occupied by what looked like a bunch of pretty, nubile, 20-something uni students. Even when she had been that age, she hadn't been as waif-like as those girls. But Tom…bless him…that was another gift he possessed. Even at her worst with her insecurities, he always found a way to make her feel like the only woman in the world.

"I love you so much, Sybil," he panted into her ear as they came down together.

Sybil curled her arms around him and held him tightly to her. "I love you too," she whispered back, her heart overflowing. Not a bad way to begin one's holiday, she thought to herself. And as the room was illuminated by the colors of the setting sun, and the sound of the waves could be heard in the distance, she found herself thinking that perhaps this trip to the seaside would be perfect after all.

The following day…Sybil took it all back.

The perfection of the previous evening was shattered when a knock came to their cabin door. Tom was in the shower, having just gotten back from a morning run, while Sybil was in the kitchen making them breakfast. She went to answer the door, and upon opening it, was met by three of the young, pretty uni students she had spotted yesterday in the cabin next door.

"Hi!—oh," the bright smile on the girl's face fell when she met Sybil's face. Clearly she had been hoping to meet someone else. And this suspicion was only confirmed, when the girl glanced over Sybil's shoulder, and mumbled, "Um…sorry to bother you, but…um…is there…?"

"Love, did I hear someone at the door?"

Sybil inwardly groaned as her husband chose that moment to emerge, the muscular upper half of his body still glistening from the shower, while the lower half of him was only wearing a towel. He froze as he realized that their unexpected visitors were standing just a few feet away, and unashamedly GAPING at him. Sybil took the matter into her own hands, folded her arms across her chest, and with the help of her large belly, moved in such a way as to block the girls' view of her husband.

"Can I help you?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

The girls were trying to look past her, blatantly trying to catch a second glimpse of her husband! The cheek of it all!

"Ahem!" she cleared her throat rather loudly and gave them a very pointed look.

"Oh! Um, yeah, actually…" one of the girls looked back at her companions and they nodded their heads in encouragement. "Actually, we…we need some help, next door at our place."

I just bet you do, Sybil thought sourly. "What kind of help?"

"Well, there's something wrong with our shower," she explained. "Something wrong with the pipes, we think. Anyway, we just thought we'd ask—"

"My husband isn't a plumber," Sybil interrupted, over-emphasizing the word "husband" on purpose.

The girls looked a little uncertain on what to say next. "Well, we were just hoping that maybe he could—"

"What seems to be the matter?" Tom asked, coming up behind Sybil, his hair still damp but wearing clothes. Sybil closed her eyes and once again groaned. Why did he have to be so darn helpful?

All three girls' faces lit up and those bright smiles quickly returned. "Oh, our shower isn't working—we don't know why, and we don't know what to do, so we thought we would ask around, see if anybody could help us."

Somehow, Tom must have been completely oblivious to the girls' charming "come-hither" smiles, because he simply nodded his head and murmured, "right, well, I'll have a look, but I can't make any promises that I can fix the issue."

"As I told them," Sybil piped up, turning her eyes back to the girls. "My husband isn't a plumber."

The girls simply ignored her.

"Do you have a tool kit?" Tom asked the girls, stepping around Sybil.

Surprisingly (or at least surprisingly to Sybil) they did, saying that they found it in a supply closet in their cabin. "Right, I'll be just a few minutes," Tom told her, kissing her cheek before turning and following the trio of happy, exuberant, young ladies who were gushing their thanks and praise to him with every step.

Sybil closed the door and groaned. The baby gave a rather indignant kick, which matched Sybil's mood perfectly.

Ugh, she knew she was being irrational. She despised jealousy in any form and in any person, especially herself. She also despised "possessiveness", but here she was, fuming with both emotions because a bunch of uni girls had knocked on her door and asked for some help. And while yes, Tom wasn't a plumber, he was the local handyman, fixing whatever needed fixing in their own home, as well as the homes of their neighbors, friends, and extended family. Not that these girls knew that, but…

Sybil frowned.

Wait, why exactly did they choose Tom? It wasn't like they had seen him doing anything to indicate that he was "handy", unless they were simply going by gender stereotypes. He was strong...had they seen him last night, when they arrived at the cabin? Or perhaps this morning, when he had gone for his run?

Heat flooded her face as she remembered a morning not so long ago, when she had been running behind him and ogling his fit body. And no matter how hard she tried to "reason" with herself about those girls, there couldn't have been any mistake that they were indeed "ogling" him when he had emerged from the shower.

And don't forget how "disappointed" they seemed when YOU answered the door…

Despite what she had told herself, that possessive feeling quickly returned.

Maybe I should go and check on him?

She was opening the door, prepared to go and do just that—but stopped herself before stepping outside.

Sybil…you're being ridiculous! You're turning into all those terrible stereotypes you hate that people, men in particularly, say about women! And what would Tom think? That you don't trust him? She trusted him whole-heartedly, it was those girls…

No, no, she couldn't do it. By going and "checking" on him, she would be giving in the jealousy and she would hate herself.

The baby gave another kick and Sybil sighed, placed a calming hand on her belly, and tried to soothe them both. "I'm going to blame it on the hormones," she muttered. That had to be the answer; she wasn't like this before she was pregnant…was she?

She forced herself away from the door and back into the kitchen to finish making breakfast, though no matter how hard she told herself, she couldn't stop checking the clock. For a project that should only be "a few minutes", time was ticking away.

By the time the twenty-minute mark had struck, Sybil couldn't stop herself from going to the door and opening it once again, thinking she had every right and excuse to go and knock on their door—

Which just opened.

Sybil watched as Tom exited the girls' cabin, smiling and waving back to them as they all cried in unison, "THANK YOU, TOM!" before bursting into giggles.

And just before the door closed, it wasn't missed by Sybil that several of those girls (for there were far more than the three who had shown up at her doorstep) were wearing nothing but towels themselves!

Tom smiled up at her, oblivious, again, it seemed, to the smoke that must have surely been coming out of her ears.

"All fixed?" she forced herself to say, while at the same time, forcing what she hoped was a pleasant-looking smile on her face.

"Aye, it wasn't as bad as they thought," he explained, going into details about the problem with the pipes, but Sybil couldn't get past the fact that there had been a bevy of naked women wearing nothing but towels, surrounding her husband while he "dealt" with their problem.

Good God, it's the makings of a porno!

"Sybil?" Tom brought her out of her thoughts. "Love, are you alright?" he asked, his voice and face looking back at her with concern. His eyes darted down to her belly and then back to her face and despite the jealousy that had been raging through her just a few seconds before, her heart grew tender with love and she nodded her head to put him at ease.

"I'm fine, just…I was concerned," she admitted, though she chose not to say anything further. "Breakfast?"

Tom nodded his head, though he was watching her with interest. "You were concerned?" he asked as he sat down at the table.

"Oh, just…well, you thought it would only take a few minutes and you were gone for…well, it was just longer than you had anticipated, so…so I was just thinking maybe the problem was bigger than you thought, and that was why I was concerned—"

"Are you jealous?"

Sybil's head snapped up at the question. "What!?" she sputtered, blushing furiously and cursing herself because she knew she was giving everything away; he could read her like a book. Still, she had to try to save face, which meant deny, deny, deny. "No, don't be ridiculous," she muttered, turning her back on him to pour him a mug of coffee.

"Well, good, because that would be ridiculous," Tom answered, rising from his chair and coming up behind her, surprising her when he wrapped his arms around her and began nuzzling her neck. "I'm the luckiest man in the world, because I'm married to the most brilliant, most stunning, and sexiest woman on earth—"

"Tom…" Sybil tried to sound stern, though she couldn't help but melt against him a little, both at the feel of his kisses as well as the words which he spoke. "Darling, I'm going to spill your coffee everywhere…" she warned, though only half-heartedly.

Tom smiled against her neck and with his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him. "I mean it, though…" he told her, his gaze loving but also seriousness. "I love you, Sybil Branson, and nobody can even begin to compare—"

"Alright, you've made your point," Sybil groaned, heat rising to her cheeks this time out of embarrassment for the jealous thoughts that had been rampaging through her brain. "Now…sit down before this gets any colder," she muttered, though at the same time she did lift her face up and smiled at him, her hand going to caress his cheek and leaning up on her tip toes to brush her lips against his.

They had their breakfast then, and the conversation turned a great many topics, none of which had anything to do with their next-door neighbors. Sybil chastised herself one last time for her thoughts and behavior, and vowed to be much better. Heaven knows they would bump into and see those girls again, before the weekend was over, but she would be much more…civil…in both thought and deed.

Or at the very least, she would try to be.

They had gone for a walk, explored the arcades, had lunch in a charming seaside café where they had had their first "official" date (when it was just the two of them), after their first meeting in Brighton three years ago, and were now back at the beach. It was late afternoon, and twilight would quickly be approaching. "Come on, I want to see you in that swimsuit," Tom encouraged, nuzzling her ear and earning a squeal from her.

"Oh God, I'll look like a beached whale," she groaned, but no sooner had the complaint left her lips, her husband was kissing her. "No fair!" she gasped. "You're using your powers of persuasion against me!"

"Damn right I am," he chuckled. "Come on; let's take a dip together, please?"

She groaned but nodded her head. Her maternity swimsuit was more of a "tank top", with matching bikini bottoms. And even though she had bought the largest size they had available, it still felt snug as she pulled it down her body. She frowned as she realized it didn't quite cover all of her belly, nor did it feel as though it was going to cover all of her breasts; if she bent over, she was certain they would pop out. Not that Tom would complain, but this wasn't a private beach.

"Love? You ready?" Tom asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

Sybil blushed. "You go ahead, I'll be there in a minute," she assured him. She needed to work up the courage to leave the loo and face the world in all her pregnant glory. Stop it, you're being silly, you were never this vain or self-conscious before—get over yourself!

Sybil closed her eyes, gave herself a few last encouraging words, and finally exited the loo, forcing a smile as she took the determined steps towards the cabin's patio door that opened out to the beach behind it…

And froze at the door, as she was greeted by the sight of bikini-clad uni girls…all nine of them…running around, their breasts seeming to bounce with every movement, some of them kicking a football on the sand, while others giggled and ran through the surf, splashing one another with their feet…and calling out to Tom to join them.

Sybil's eyes flew to her husband, who was pleasantly smiling and waving back at them, though not rushing forward to accept their invitation.

He turned then and his eyes widened at the sight of Sybil, and her self-esteem took a nose-dive as she imagined her husband looking at her—the beached whale—and then at the bikini-clad mermaids that frolicked just a few yards away—

"You look GORGEOUS, love!" Tom gasped, coming up to her and wrapping his arms around her non-existent waist. "And God, you look sexy," he growled, his head lowered near her near. "I don't know, I'm having second thoughts about going for a dip—rather like to take you to bed, instead."

Sybil looked up at him, and then back at the squealing girls, and then back up at him…and burst into tears.

Tom's eyes widened with shock and concern. "Sybil? Love, what—"

"It's true!" she wailed, burying her face against his shoulder. "I can't seem to stop myself—I AM jealous," she groaned between sobs.

Tom's arms tightened around her, and she felt one hand run up and down her spine, while another cradled the back of her head. "Oh love," she heard her murmur, and he kissed the top of her head. He didn't offer up words of censure, or tell her that she was being silly—he recognized, at the very least, that these feelings she was having were serious. But he didn't try to inflate her ego further, either, and honestly, he didn't need to. Because she knew he meant it, she knew he was telling her the truth when he told her that he thought she was beautiful and sexy and that he had no eyes for any other woman but herself. She believed him. Now she just needed to believe in herself.

"Oh, is everything alright?"

Sybil lifted her head at the sight of the one of the uni girls. She looked genuinely concerned, as did her friends who were hovering nearby.

Sybil wiped her eyes and cheeks, swallowed, and then looked directly at the girl before extending her hand towards her. "I'm Sybil," she introduced.

The girl looked down at Sybil's hand, then back at her, and a sweet, genuine smile spread across her face, before she took Sybil's hand in hers and began to shake it. "I'm Katrina—it's so nice to meet you!"

Soon all of the uni girls were surrounding them, each introducing themselves and each seeming to be genuinely nice and sincere in their warm greeting. The conversation then turned towards the baby, the girls asking Sybil how far along she was, the due date, and all sorts of questions, which Sybil was surprised to find that she rather enjoyed answering. And then the conversation turned towards how Tom and Sybil had met, and several wistful sighs could be heard as the Bransons retold their story to their new friends.

Sybil felt herself become more and more at ease with the girls, and what slivers of jealousy that still clouded her mind began to finally drift away. She smiled and giggled and even joined them in the water, laughing and splashing at Tom, who kept himself close, touching her every so often in a loving, comforting manner. Yes, there was a little flirting here and there from the girls towards her husband, but Sybil saw it all as harmless now, and when she looked at Tom, she knew, without any doubt, that there was only one woman here he truly had eyes for. Which was later confirmed when the sun at set, and the girls invited Tom and Sybil to come over and join them for dinner.

"Thanks, but…we have plans," Tom explained, surprising Sybil. "Perhaps later this weekend? My sisters will be arriving tomorrow with their families—maybe we can have a big cookout or something then?"

There were a few disappointed moans, but the girls nodded their heads, bid the Bransons good night, before going their separate ways.

"We have plans?" Sybil asked, once back inside and after Tom had closed the door.

"MmmHmm," Tom answered, turning to face her and causing her to gasp as he pulled her close. "I meant what I said earlier, about wanting to take you back to bed," he growled, his hands running over the wet, skin-tight material of her swimsuit. "And we only have this place all to ourselves for one more night—I'm not going to waste a second of it!"

Sybil laughed and then sighed as she felt his fingers and lips at work. But before they could get too carried away, she cupped his face and looked up at him, her eyes shining with emotion. "I love you," she murmured.

Tom smiled down at her, and murmured the words back, before lowering his head at last and kissing her deeply.

She sighed as she wove her arms around his shoulders, melting against him as he lowered them to a nearby sofa. Despite how she had been feeling earlier that day, this truly was a perfect holiday. And it was about to get even better…

THE END