Chapter Five

"And I hope this makes you happy now, that the flame we had is burning out."

That evening Patrick invited himself to dinner. The old Tom Sullivan would have taken to his room, but instead he chose to join Emma and the intruder. He really had no right to call him that, for all the knew Emma had previously invited him. Perhaps they had a standing weekly dinner. He didn't know. Because he wasn't in Emma's life anymore. Not really.

If he had stayed in Kembleford...if he hadn't ran away things might be different. In fact if he had stayed he was sure he and Emma would be married by now. He had no doubt they would have grown closer. Maybe he'd even be a father. He hated that he messed things up between them so badly.

That was in the past though, there was no changing it. He was back now and he had a chance to right the wrong he'd done all those years ago. He was still figuring out his plan, but somehow he wanted to show Emma that he had changed.

"How long were you in Kembleford?" Patrick asked across the table. His voice demanded Tom's attention away from his thoughts and away from Emma.

"A year and some months," Tom answered.

"And you were the Inspector?"

Tom raised an eyebrow in his direction, "Yes,"

Emma's eyes darted from Patrick to Tom. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Emma tells me that you lived here. You never wanted to find a more permanent home?" Patrick pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and waited for Tom's response.

"No," Tom shrugged.

Patrick didn't seem satisfied with his answer, but an annoyed look from Emma ceased his questioning. Emma listened intently as Tom filled her in on some of the details of his life the past four years. She was looking at him, staring even unabshedly. Her eyes shone in the candlelight and Tom had a feeling she completely forgot that they weren't alone.

Tom could sense Patrick's annoyance, and tried to steer the conversation. "So, Patrick you own the market now?"

"My uncle left it to me when he passed. I moved to Kembleford about a year ago," he looked at Emma as if she was supposed to confirm this.

"About," she agreed.

Patrick seemed nice enough to Tom, but there was something about him...He didn't like the man, and yet he felt sorry for him at the same time. Something about him seemed false. Genuine on the outside, but that's all. His sincerity was skin deep as far as Tom was concerned, and he had a feeling neither he nor Emma knew the real Patrick.

He felt sorry because he knew after all this time, he still had Emma's heart. She had all but confessed it to him. The way her eyes lingered when he caught them. The way she glanced at him. He knew. Whatever she and Patrick had shared up until now would never compare to what he and Emma had. After everything they had been through together perhaps they were bound?

"How long are you staying?" Patrick asked.

"Patrick!" Emma hissed but he shrugged her off.

Tom was not fooled by his smile as he asked. The man wished him gone that much he could tell.

"I'm not entirely sure," Tom replied.

It was an honest answer if nothing else. He could request a transfer, and come back to Kembleford for good. He smirked, that would really put Mallory in his place, and would teach the cranky old fool to call him "Mulligan". However, that decision would need to be made with Emma. He couldn't decide for both of them. He'd made that mistake before, and it cost him four years.

His answer seemed to quell any further questions from Patrick and they finished their meal in awkward silence. Emma's eyes floated over to watch him every now and then. She watched the way his hands held his fork and her mind went back to when they held her. That brief, but memorable exchange they'd shared in this very kitchen. She watched as he brought his napkin to his mouth, and her head tilted in hypnosis as she remembered what his lips tasted like.

"Are you quite well?" Patrick asked her.

She jumped at his touch on her shoulder, "Yes!"

It was clear to Emma that whatever started between she and Tom four years ago was by no means finished. It was also clear that whatever she felt for Patrick paled sorely in comparison to her connection to Tom. It wasn't fair to him. She glanced his way and offered a weak smile. She would have to break it to him that she couldn't continue their courtship.

"Are you staying for coffee?" she asked Patrick hurriedly.

He sat his fork down and placed his napkin on the table, "No, not tonight,"

Something in his tone worried her, but she knew he could be moody at times. So, when he stood to go she followed him to the door. She placed a caring hand on his shoulder.

"Goodnight Patrick. I'd like to come by for lunch tomorrow. I'm hoping we could talk."

"Don't bother, Emma. I have a feeling I know what you want to talk about, and...I understand,"

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's the 'great love' the 'one that got away'. I was just a placeholder,"

"That's not true!"

She followed him out the door, but he brushed her off. She turned and slowly made her way back inside. She wasn't quite sure why, but the exchange left her feeling a little humiliated. Her cheeks were blushed as she closed the front door and leaned her brow against the cold wood. What had she gotten herself into?

Lyrics- Mayday Parade