A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews!
New Normal
Chapter Six
October 22, 2014
"Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead." Mary speared a green bean with a fork. She was sitting at a nice restaurant in London, a string of lights hanging over their heads.
"What are we?"
Mary glanced up at him. "We're friends, aren't we?" She asked, meeting his eyes.
Charles smiled back at her. "I'd say we are... but I want to be honest with you." Mary took in a deep breath before he said, "I like you, Mary. A lot. As in... More than a friend. And I don't know if you feel the same way." Before she could say anything, Charles said, "Look— I'm not expecting anything from you. There's no hidden obligations— I know you miss Matthew a lot. I would never want you to think I was trying to replace him. But I do like you... and if you want to be my girlfriend, I'd be very glad. And that's all it would be."
Mary was stunned. It had been a very long time since someone had asked her to be that... and strangely enough, it didn't seem too soon. "Charles, I— I like you, too. But... but I don't know when I'll be ready to marry again or have more kids..."
Charles smiled. "Neither do I. All I know is that I want to spend more time with you. I like being your friend... but I'd like to be more, if that's an option."
Mary mulled it over for a moment or two. "Alright," she said, without as much hesitation as she thought she might. "Let's do this, then."
Charles beamed. "You mean it?"
"I do." Mary realized how close it sounded to a wedding vow when he leaned closer to her. Before he could ask, she whispered, "You can."
The kiss was short yet sweet... literally. His chicken was glazed with honey and the taste lingered on his lips. When he pulled apart, his eyes were full of adoration. Mary found she quite liked it. "I'm glad we'll be doing that more often," he said, almost breathlessly, causing Mary to smile. It wasn't as awkward as thought it would be, no pressure to make it more than it was... She was glad.
October 28, 2014
PAPA: Why Are Sybbie And George Calling Me Donk
MARY: I took them over to our petting zoo the other day and showed them the animals. The donkey's name is Bob and Sybbie realized it sounded like Robert.
PAPA: Tell Them To Stop
MARY: Just ignore it, Papa. You know what children are like. If they see it bothers you, they'll keep it up.
PAPA: I Am Not A Donkey
November 6, 2014
"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" asked Anna, pulling a black dress off the rack before grimacing and putting it back.
"I promise I'm not," insisted Mary. "She's a menace!" Her arms were full of clothes she didn't need but wanted regardless... or at least clothes she wanted to try on.
They were discussing Sarah Bunting, Mary's latest nemesis. It seemed cruel to pick on Edith, considering she was pregnant, so the one person in her life that seemed fair game was Tom's girlfriend. The animosity between them had only heightened since she made herself a regular fixture in his life. At least once a week, Mary found the woman lounging around her house, always on her phone and only looking up so she could harass Mary. They always put on a veneer of politeness for Tom's sake, but before he appeared, there was a series of backhanded compliments and jibes back and forth. It was intellectually stimulating, Mary would give her that, but she always felt like tearing her hair out after a conversation with Sarah.
"But Tom likes her?" Anna asked, holding up a skirt.
Mary sighed. "Apparently. She's often over enough." Mary had hoped the visits would taper down once school started up again and Sarah was more busy with work, but unfortunately she wasn't that lucky.
"Aren't you happy for him?" Anna stopped browsing, giving her a meaningful look. "I'm not saying that to be rude but... aren't you glad he's found someone?"
"I'm glad he's found someone... I just wish he had found a different someone." Obviously, no woman in the world could ever compare to Sybil in Mary's eyes— in her mind, no one else could come as close to perfection as her sister. She was intelligent, effortlessly kind, beautiful... Mary was sure Sarah Bunting had her virtues but thus far she hadn't seen any of them. How could he see her as an adequate substitute for Sybil was beyond Mary. "I think he could do better, that's all." Tom could have any number of women, someone intelligent and easy going... at the very least, he could date someone with some manners.
Anna gave her a dubious look, one Mary didn't notice, before returning to the clothes. "How is your love life?"
Mary couldn't resist smiling. Things weren't exactly perfect— With Charles in London, they didn't see one another as often as they liked. Still, in a way, it was nice to have some physical distance between one another. Nevertheless, they kept in contact with one another. Calling another the evenings had become a common ritual, the call usually ending once one of them fell asleep. "It's going well."
Anna beamed. "I'm glad for you. Really." Her eyes twinkled. "And I know Matthew would be, too."
Mary had to blink to stop herself from crying. It was such a sweet sentiment... but sometimes she wondered how true it really was. "How's the latest book coming along?" asked Mary, thinking of Anna's upcoming thriller. Her first book had sold well; it wasn't at the top of the best seller's list, by any means, but she had made a profit and created an eager fan base.
Anna beamed. "It's going well. I've only written about two chapters so far but... I have time."
"What's this one about? Or can't you say?"
"I can... but I'd like to keep in surprise. I'll only say someone will be wrongfully sentenced for a crime they didn't commit."
Mary's eyes widened. "How intriguing. I'm looking forward to it." She had never realized Anna's talent for writing until she had picked up her first novel. She let Anna ramble on about the process, about some the idea she had, simply enjoying time spent with her best friend.
November 17, 2014
"So what do you think?"
Mary bit her lip. Tickets to the symphony sounded marvelous... it was the sort of romantic thing she had daydreamed about in class. The closest she had ever gotten to fulfilling it was a concert with Matthew for some local band that hadn't been that great, but their time spent at it had. "I wish I could," she said apologetically. "But Tom's birthday is that day."
"Oh." Charles was silent on the other end. Mary raised a spoonful of yogurt to her lips. "Are you having a party?"
"No," said Mary, putting the spoon back in the cup and stirring around. "He's not big on parties, I'm afraid, and it isn't exactly a milestone birthday. He just wants a nice evening at home with the kids."
"What about his girlfriend?"
Mary gritted her teeth. "She'll be there, too." Sarah was actually planning on cooking them dinner— Mary felt this was almost certainly a recipe for disaster. She wasn't sure when the best point to mention her allergy to tree nuts was for fear Sarah would sneak them into whatever she was making out of spite.
"Do you think maybe I could come? We could let them go out somewhere, we could watch the kids..."
Mary shook her head, even though Charles couldn't see her. "He insisted he wanted to stay home. I offered to go out and do something—" (She had specifically told him she could run up to London and see Charles) "—but he wants me there, too. And I don't see how I can argue with that, not when it's his birthday."
Charles sighed. "Alright. I'll give the tickets to someone else." Mary felt guilty. "I'll give them to Evelyn," he seemed to decide. "He'll like that."
"Oh?" asked Mary, curiosity piqued. "Does he have a girlfriend, now?"
"No... but he talks a lot about some girl. He used to date her ages ago and he's never said her name, but I guess she's really lovely. Maybe he can win her back."
Mary felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Don't be vain, she told herself, it's probably not you. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You've every right to schedule plans. Besides... we normally don't meet up on Sundays, anyway."
Still, Mary couldn't help but feel guilty. "I'll come up with some way to make it up to you."
"I'm looking forward to it." She smiled ever so slightly. "Listen, I've got to go— my break's almost over."
"Mine, too, really," said Mary, eyeing the time on her clock. Officially, her lunch break ended whenever she decided as she was the one in charge. Unofficially, it ended as soon as Thomas returned from lunches with Jimmy. "I'll talk to you later. Maybe we can do something next weekend?"
"Sounds good. Love you."
Mary nearly dropped her phone. Before she could even think of saying anything, he had already hung up. Mary wasn't sure if the last part was intentional or not... but she was taken aback, to say the very least.
Was it possible, for him to love her already? They'd known each other only a few months— only about five, if Mary's math was correct. They'd only been dating for roughly a month... How could someone fall in love so fast?
Then again, when it came to love, Mary was painfully slow. She never realized until it was too late just how much she cared for a person and it took her by surprise every time— it hadn't been until Matthew invited her to meet his mother that she realized she was in too deep.
She sighed, wondering who or if she should mention this to anyone before throwing away her garbage and returning to work. Thomas returned five minutes later, a noticeable spring in his step, and neither of them talked about the state of their love lives.
November 23, 2014
"I'm so sorry," apologized Sarah, but Mary wasn't sure if she really meant it or not. "I completely forgot you weren't supposed to have these!"
Mary smiled, an unconvincing one, but looked up from the desert, topped with almonds. At least she hadn't tried hiding them inside only to 'remember' after Mary had eaten several bites. "That's alright. I'm full already." She understood now why Sarah had insisted upon making her signature desert instead of a traditional birthday cake.
"Maybe you could pick off the nuts on top," suggested Tom as Sarah cut him a piece of... whatever it was.
"I used almond flour, too," Sarah said, wincing, though Mary questioned how genuine it was. "I'm sorry, I wasn't even thinking— I try to limit my gluten intake—"
She carried on in that vein for a while as Mary essentially twiddled her thumbs, feeling very much like a third wheel. "I can take care of the dishes," she decided, no longer wanting to sit around and watch them eat and flirt and laugh... the sight of it was growing nauseating.
"You don't have to do that," insisted Tom, now pulling his eyes away from Sarah. "I can take care of it."
"You'll do no such thing. It's your birthday." Mary gathered up all the dirty dishes. Dinner itself had been bearable— Sarah had basically made some sort of vegetarian dish that Mary had made a great show of adding heaps of salt and pepper to without even tasting it first. She had gone a little overkill on the pepper, forced to take gulps of water when no one was looking.
As the couple talked in the kitchen— something about Sarah's work and whatnot. It was frightfully tedious and Mary was glad she wasn't forced to sit there and smile and nod. She scrubbed at the dishes, irritated by Sarah's continued presence here. She knew she ought to just tell Tom how she felt about his girlfriend but didn't want to come across as spiteful or trying to stand in the way of his happiness.
Sarah went home after an hour or two, much to Mary's relief. "So... how does twenty nine feel?" The children were in bed and they were lounging on the couch together.
"Not much different from twenty eight, if I'm being honest." Tom took a sip of wine.
"Hmm. Well, I suppose that's something to look forward to." Her own twenty-ninth birthday would be in March. It hit her, how strange it would be in the not so distant future to turn thirty without Matthew being there.
"I'm sorry about the dessert thing. I hope you know she didn't mean it," Tom said apologetically.
Mary reached for her own wine, mostly to stop herself from saying something she would regret, like questioning if Sarah liked her or not. At present, she was thinking how awful it was, that Tom felt the need to apologize for her behavior, on his birthday of all days. "I'm sure it was," was all she said when she sat her glass back down.
They started talking about other things— the news, Edith's baby, the podcast Tom had started listening to... all of which that somehow lead to Mary confessing, "Charles told me he loves me."
Tom's eyes widened. "Did he? When?"
"A week ago," admitted Mary. "I didn't say it back..." She paused. "Don't you think it's a little soon?"
Tom shrugged. "I don't think putting a timing on these things is the best way to look at it. You've known one another for a while now."
"It just seems fast to me." She wasn't ready to fall in love— she could handle dates and kisses and going back to his place to take things a little further, but she wasn't ready for love.
Tom frowned. "How long did it take you to fall for Matthew?"
"Two and a half years... but honestly I probably did long before then, I was just too stubborn to realize it." Their first year of knowing one another had been spent as competitors in a classroom at uni and trading insults with one another before striking a truce at the end of the semester and becoming friends. When he asked her out when they returned to school in the autumn, Mary had been pleased yet surprised, but agreed, realizing she didn't dislike him at all.
Tom's eyes widened. "Well, I told Sybil I loved her before we started dating."
Mary's eyes widened. "You did?" He nodded, a bit sheepishly. "But why?"
"Because I loved her."
Mary rolled her eyes. "Why didn't you wait?"
Tom shrugged. "I wanted her to know how I felt."
It struck Mary then just how dissimilar they were. She could never envision telling someone she loved them before she knew they felt the same about her. There was a time and a place to deliver such news, a right timing. And one month into a relationship was far too soon for her... and so was before a relationship had properly begun. "Well, I don't think I love him yet," admitted Mary, crossing her legs.
"That's alright," Tom assured her. "I don't love Sarah yet."
"Does she love you?"
Tom shrugged. "I don't think so. If she has, she hasn't said anything."
Mary glanced at him dubiously before reaching for her wine yet again. "Just because she hasn't said doesn't mean she doesn't love you," she warned him, thinking of herself and the silly games she used to play with Matthew that seemed to be part of who she was. The last thing she wanted was for Tom to end up in a sticky situation.
Tom seemed relatively unaffected. "What did you tell Charles? Just so I know how to react if she takes me by surprise."
Mary shrugged. "I didn't say anything. He just said it at the end of a call. He hasn't said anything about it since... maybe he said it on accident," she said, thinking aloud.
Tom grinned. "Maybe he ends all his calls like that."
"Maybe," Mary said, laughing. It wasn't such a big deal... and it was nice to speak to someone who understood.
December 1, 2014
Thomas came into the office late, humming It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, and Starbucks in his hand... and with one for her. "Good morning," he said, depositing it on her desk.
"Someone's in the holiday spirit already. I didn't realize you liked Christmas so much." She took a sip, surprised that Thomas had opted to give her a mocha today instead of black coffee. Still, she wasn't about to complain about a free drink, though.
"What can I say? I've turned over a new leaf." Thomas continued humming, starting up his laptop.
Mary narrowed her eyes, taking another sip. "Something's happened," she concluded. Thomas glanced up sheepishly, stopping mid chorus. "What is it?"
"Who says anything's happened?"
"Thomas."
He let out a sigh. "Jimmy and Ivy broke up."
"Oh." Mary blinked. She wouldn't have expected that... but then again, it seemed like the sort of thing Thomas would celebrate. Truthfully, she had never had cause to celebrate the end of someone else's relationships— she had always envied Lavinia for having Matthew in that period of time after they had broken up, but she couldn't bring herself to truly dislike the woman. When they had broken up, she had mainly felt too sorry for Matthew to feel glad for herself.
But then again... if Tom broke up with Sarah this month, she'd consider it a Christmas present. Maybe she would bring in a treat of her own to the office.
December 13, 2014
"Tom?" asked Mary as she cleared the dishes away. When he glanced up from the sink, she asked, "You aren't inviting Sarah over for Christmas, are you?"
"No. I wasn't planning on it," Tom said, scrubbing at a plate.
Mary let out a relieved sigh. "Good," she said, without thought. When Tom gave her a strange look, she quickly lied, "I only ask because I'm not going to ask Charles over. I thought it might be too soon... I didn't want things to be awkward, with one of us inviting someone and the other..." She trailed off, fairly confident her answer had been satisfactory enough.
Tom seemed to accept her answer, nodding before returning to the dishes. She began drying off the clean ones, placing them in the cupboards. "Do you like her?" When Mary turned to look at him, he clarified, "Sarah. Do you like her?"
"I like that she makes you happy."
"That's not the answer to the question I asked," Tom said, but he didn't sound upset. If anything he was amused, which was relief. "Do you?"
Mary bit back a sigh. Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? "We don't exactly have complementing personalities, Tom. I don't despise her, but we'll never be friends." She bit her inside lip before glancing at him. "I'm sorry."
Tom shook his head. "No, it's fine." Still, she couldn't help but feel guilty. "Just... try to be nice to her. She means a lot to me."
Mary ignored the irritation she felt at that request. "I promise to be as nice to her as she is to me," replied Mary, narrowing her eyes.
December 24, 2014
The stockings were placed over the rarely used fireplace. "It's strange... this time next year, Edith'll have a little one of her own," said Tom, smiling as Mary finishing hanging George's up over the mantle place.
"They can't stay here," said Mary flatly. "This house isn't big enough for more than four."
Tom rolled his eyes good naturedly. "I imagine she'll stay with your parents, just as always. I'm sure they'll love to have her and the baby."
Edith knew the sex by now, of course. It was to be a little girl, but she hadn't decided on names yet. Mary hated to admit it, but Edith had adjusted to pregnancy and impending motherhood nicely. It had taken her ages to mourn the loss of her relationship with Michael Gregson, but he had made his lack of involvement quite clear. Mama and Papa had responded far better to Edith's announcement than they had to Sybil's, which seemed to indicate some growth on Papa's part. Edith wasn't back on her feet quite yet, devoting an enormous amount of time to renovating her London penthouse, blogging, and gaining new Instagram followers who were eagerly following her pregnancy journey. Mary wasn't one of them, but good for Edith, she supposed.
"So... you want me living here with you, a year from now?" asked Tom, turning to face her. A small smile was on his lips already.
"Of course," replied Mary without hesitation. "You've been invaluable to me in all of this. We work well together, you're wonderful with George... and I like having you here," she concluded, figuring Tom wouldn't judge her too greatly for admitting that. He was, after all, her best friend. She hesitated before asking, "Do you want to stay here?"
"I do," he answered. He seemed to puzzle things over before finally admitting, "I like it here. I like living here..."
Mary smiled. "Well," she said, reaching for her mug of hot chocolate, the warmth against her fingertips a seeming reflection to warmth inside her, "that settles it, then. We'll be sitting here again together next Christmas." She wondered how different the world would be by then.
December 31, 2014
"She was beautiful."
Sarah was standing in front of a picture of Sybil, her hair in long, loose waves. She was in a blue and white floral dress, smile bright and eyes shining. It looked like it had been taken at some kind of gala, likely one of Mama's charity events.
"She was," agreed Mary, eyes flickering to Sarah. The woman had been sticking to her side the whole evening, coming to the unwelcome realization that Mary was the only person she knew at this party, aside from Tom.
"I can tell he misses her," continued Sarah, looking across the drawing room at Tom, who was talking with Edith. Her sister's hand was resting on her large stomach, looking happier than Mary had ever seen her. She couldn't help but wish Sybil was standing here next to her instead, where they could admire their sister and talk about how wonderful all this was. Matthew would be here too, talking with Papa...
But instead Mary was standing by Sarah and Papa was talking with Charles. What they were discussing, Mary had no clue, but they seemed to be getting along well enough.
Mary eyed the clock. It was almost eight— George and Sybbie would need to go to bed soon. "We all do," was all Mary could think to say before walking away from Sarah and towards Tom.
Dinner was a clusterfuck, to put it nicely. Mary wasn't sure how it began— She knew it had to do with Papa's dig about Michael Gregson, spoken as a way to cheer Edith up (or at least to validate how poorly she had been treated by him) but somehow Sarah had misinterpreted things and a fight had broken out.
"How can you be so small minded? This is the twenty first century!"
"Small minded?" sputtered Papa, taken aback.
"It isn't like how it used to be in the olden days," Sarah continued, oblivious to how uncomfortable everyone else was. "Just because you're the Earl of whatever doesn't mean—"
"I believe you're starting to veer off topic, dear," Granny interrupted, her tone saccharine but gaze withering.
Mary glanced over to Tom, who looked as if he were about to be sick. He was silent— unusual for him, especially when he had been the one to who used to start up these sorts of debates. She tried to meet his eye but he was only focused on the catastrophe unfolding before them.
Sarah ignored Granny before saying, "All I mean to say is that us mere mortals understand that people like you aren't perfect. Aren't you happy your daughter is having a baby?"
"Of course I am! I love all my children and my grandchildren!"
"I don't believe that's what Robert intended to insinuate," Isobel tried to tell Sarah, but she seemed to completely ignore her in favor of steamrolling ahead.
"Then why make a remark about the fact she's unmarried?" Sarah shot back. Poor Edith looked as if she were ready to crawl under the table... and Rose was likely being reminded of dinners with Susan and Shrimpie. Mary suspected she was now glad Jack had been busy tonight and spared from witnessing the row taking place before them. "I know you did the same thing with Sybil—"
"Sarah!" Tom exclaimed, the mere mention of her name enough to bring him out of his stunned stupor.
"How dare you?" Papa demanded, now truly angry. "You have no right to mention my daughter!" Much to Mary's horror, he was choking up. "You know nothing about her, or me, so do not think you have any say in what our relationship was like!"
The room had grown silent. Sarah was looking at Tom, more stunned by his exclamation than her father's. It stretched on until Papa rose to his feet, leaving the room, looking as if he were about to start crying. "I'd better go after him," Mama said, jumping to her feet and hurrying after Papa.
When the door closed, Mary turned to Sarah, fury boiling deep with in her. "Well? Are you happy now?" At that moment, she finally stop pretending to like this woman.
"Not really. I'm sorry for what he said to you, by the way," she said, having recovered and now glancing at Edith, who looked as shaken everyone else at the table was. She was the only one to pick up her utensils and start eating again. The rest of the table was silent... even Granny seemed rendered speechless, which was quite the feat.
"Sarah," Tom said, breaking the awkward pause, "You don't know the full story." He rose to his feet, placing the linen napkin on his half eaten plate of food. "Perhaps it's best we leave."
Sarah stopped eating, realizing now the sheer magnitude of her mistake. "Fine." She rose to her feet as well, taking Tom's hand. Mary's eyes fell to their interlinked fingers, wondering why Tom wasn't shaking her hand away.
It wasn't until they had left the room that Mary wiped her mouth, quickly said, "I'll be back in a moment," she said, addressing the rest, but mostly Charles, who was seated beside her. "I just realized I need to ask Tom something."
She found them at the front door, just as they were getting ready to leave. They were speaking lowly to one another, tugging on their coats. "Tom!" called out Mary, needing to capture his attention. He turned away from Sarah, meeting her gaze as she approached them. "I need to have a word with you." Though her words were cold and overly formal, she tried to convey the warmth she felt towards him through her eyes. None of this was his fault and she wanted him to realize that.
Tom nodded before rummaging through his pockets. "Sarah, can you wait in the car? I'll be out in a moment." He handed her the keys, not even sparing a glance backwards as she stalked to the door, her heels hitting the floor with purpose. It wasn't until the door shut that Tom said, "What's the matter?"
"Are you coming back tonight?"
Tom hesitated before shaking his head. "I don't think so. I've had an exciting enough evening already... and I don't know if Robert'll want me here."
"Of course he will!" Without thinking or even realizing she had done it, Mary reached for Tom's hand. "Tom, you're a part of this family. We all love you. He won't blame you for what Sarah said."
"Why wouldn't he?" asked Tom, voice hard but she could see the telltale signs— he was falling apart. His eyes voiced sadness he didn't speak of, his lips turned down, the slight tremor on he that only someone well versed in Tom Branson's mannerisms and speaking patterns could detect. "I'm the one who brought her here. I'm the one who told her about him and Sybil and all the fighting—"
"Tom," Mary tried to cut him off.
"I feel like I don't belong here," he admitted, and Mary swore her heart stopped beating. "At Downton. I love all of you, but— I don't think this is where I'm supposed to be."
"What do you mean?" asked Mary. She thought about their conversation mere days ago, about how much they enjoyed living with one another.
"I mean that I've changed. That I have forgotten who I really am." There we're tears brimming in his eyes. "I wasn't— I mean, look at me! I'm dressed in a suit— I didn't even own a suit before I met Sybil!" He gestured to himself. "And I come here all the time and eat dinner with your parents and—"
"Of course you've changed," said Mary. "I've changed. We all have. That's what happens when you grow up... and when you become a parent and when you lose someone important to you... It changes you." Her words were oddly emotional for her, yet miraculously there weren't tears in her eyes. "And considering I had to listen to you complaining about dressing in that suit all evening, I would say there's still plenty of the old Tom Branson in there. Even if there wasn't... there's nothing for you to be ashamed of."
"But I am," Tom whispered, and that's when he lost all control.
Mary only realized just how much she had changed when she didn't even hesitate to hug him, pulling him even closer as he wept. A year ago, they had done the same thing, though she hadn't really known what to do then... Now it was instinctive, practically second nature. "It's alright, Tom," she murmured into his ear, unused to this but unwilling and almost unable to let him go. She rubbed his back. "It's alright." She didn't notice the vibrating of his phone in his pocket nor the sound of a door opening and then shutting. Mary simply held him until his eyes were dry.
"New Year's really isn't my holiday, is it?" asked Tom, obviously embarrassed but trying to make light of the situation.
"I think you should come back," said Mary, meeting his now red eyes. "Drop her off and then return here."
He shook his head. "I'm not much in the mood for socializing anymore, to be honest." He wiped at his face, even though most of the tears had fallen into her hair. "I think I'll just go home. I can pick you up in the morning."
Mary nodded. Charles would probably try to give her a ride back tomorrow, but Tom's car was the one with Sybbie and George's car seats. She was only glad they were already in bed up in the nursery. Had they been present at dinner, she was fairly confident the episode would have played a starring role in their therapy sessions once they were old enough. "Very well. I'll miss you, but I'll let it slide as long as you promise me one thing: don't spend this New Year's like you spent the last one."
Tom met her eyes. "I promise," he said, barely loud enough for her to hear.
Mary gave him a smile, one that didn't make it to her eyes, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "See you tomorrow," she said quietly. "Happy New Year's."
"Happy New Year's." The irony of the statement wasn't lost on either of them as Tom turned away with a melancholy look and walked outside. Mary barely felt the cool air rush in, eyes locked where his retreating figure had been.
"Are you alright?" Charles asked, bringing her a new flute of champagne. 2015 was only a few minutes away. Mama and Papa had returned, looking somewhat sad but not letting the heaviness ruin their mood. Everyone was sad to learn Tom had gone back home but no one was more bereft than Mary, wishing he were here when she gave Charles the opportunities to socialize with her family instead of hanging by her side.
"I'm fine," she assured him, smiling as she accepted the drink. "Dinner was a bit of a dampener on my mood, that's all."
Charles nodded understandingly. "I suppose I understand now why you're always complaining about her."
Mary couldn't help but smirk at that. Poor Charles had listened to dozens of rants about Sarah— he had been excited to be invited to this get together, pleased at the possibility of seeing her in action. It was safe to say Sarah hadn't disappointed— in fact, she had exceeded Mary's expectations.
Papa began clinking his glass. "It's almost time, everybody!" He called out to the room.
Everyone present began chanting as the clock counted down the seconds... in those ten seconds, Mary relieved arguably one of the most challenging years of her life. She had lived one year without Matthew at her side, one year as a mother. She was somebody's girlfriend now... how strange it was, when this time last year she had been trying forget who she was and why it mattered.
As the clock struck twelve and 2015 began, Charles leaned in for a kiss. Mary's eyes closed instinctively and she leaned in. Even though she could not forget just who she was kissing, she could see a pair of blue eyes in her mind.
