A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews!


New Normal

Chapter Twelve

January 17, 2018

The next morning, Mary woke up, her head on Tom's chest, his arm wrapped around her. The top portion of his body was upright, head tipped back between the arm and the back of the couch whereas Mary was sprawled out across his torso. She had drooled on his tee shirt. Her head ached— a side effect from trying to drink away her sorrows. The last things she remembered was bursting into tears, Tom hugging her, and then reassuring her that she wasn't fucked up.

She moved out of his embrace. Tom didn't even notice. Her phone was still sitting on the coffee table. She reached for it, noting that it was at 9%, but seeing she had several missed notifications. She tapped in the passcode.

Ten texts from Henry. She deleted them all without bothering to read, knowing they would all say the same thing. She didn't need to be drawn back in... Three voicemails. She shouldn't listen to them... but Mary held the phone to her ear.

"Mary— it's me. Henry. I— Mary, I don't know why we've been fighting over this so much. You know I love you, don't you? Why can't we work this out? Please call me."

There was a twinge in her heart. She really shouldn't be listening to these... as if her heart needed to hurt anymore. Nevertheless, she played the next one. In this one, it was clear Henry had spent the remainder of his evening doing the same thing as Mary: trying to drown away his sorrows.

"Mary... Mary please call me. I love you so much... you don't even know how much. I just want to marry you, okay? I'm not marrying you and Tom, I'm marrying you and I want our own house. I just—" There was the sound of a sob. "Please don't leave me."

Tears stung in Mary's eyes. Maybe she had been hasty. Maybe this wasn't such a big issue... She glanced over to Tom, still asleep on the couch, wondering if it was time to sit down and have a tough conversation. It would hurt... but if her and Henry were meant to be...

But they weren't. She remembered that quiet dread she felt, the dissatisfaction that festered inside her unbeknownst to anyone else and reminded herself she had made the right decision. Calling him back and getting back together to spare his feelings would only lead to more heartbreak down the road. It was best to make a clean break now and accept that it wasn't meant to be.

She deleted it along with the other two, hands shaking as she typed out a text message.

MARY: It's over. Please don't contact me again.

Perhaps it was a touch harsh, but in the end it would save them from more pain.

She walked into the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. She watched intently, still sluggish and tired. A few minutes later, Tom staggered into the kitchen, looking as exhausted as she felt. When the coffee finished brewing, she poured him a cup wordlessly.


March 9, 2019

Mary was painting her nails with precision when George ran down the stairs. "Mummy, can I go with Sybbie and Daddy to the park to play football?"

Mary looked up, smearing red nail polish across her finger. She didn't even notice, too stunned by what her son had just said. "You and who?"

"Oh, sorry!" George said quickly, looking nervous for only half a second before rearranging his features into a blank mask. "Can I go with Sybbie and Tom?"

Mary narrowed her eyes. "You may... but why did you call him that?"

George looked uncomfortable, as if he knew he wasn't supposed to have said it. His gaze diverted itself to the floor. "That's what Sybbie calls him," he mumbled.

"Yes— because he's her father." George still wasn't looking at her, seemingly more interested in the carpet. Mary let out a sigh, suspecting she had done something wrong. "I'm not mad at you, Georgie. You just took me by surprise, that's all."

She heard the sound of the stairs creaking. "George, did your mother say it was okay?" Tom called out. When she craned her head around, Tom and Sybbie were at the bottom of the steps, Tom holding the football in his arms.

"I changed my mind!" George hollered back, and before Mary could ask, he ran away from her, pushing past Tom as he raced up the steps. She closed her eyes, knowing she must have messed things up. She noticed the trail of nail polish running down her finger and cursed under her breath.

"What was that about?" Tom murmured, walking to stand behind the couch.

Mary shook her head, not looking at him. "I'll tell you later." She still couldn't really process what had happened. "Don't worry— I'll deal with it. You two have fun."

Mary waited until Tom and Sybbie had left (and for her nails to dry) before going upstairs to check on her son. He was laying in his bed, his toy elephant tucked under his arm, staring at the ceiling. He looked so very solemn and serious, far too somber for a five year old. Mary stepped in quietly. "Darling," she began, "Will you please tell me what this is about?" He didn't look at her. "I won't be mad. I promise." She sat on the edge of his bed.

"I wish I had a real dad."

Mary blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I wish I had a dad like everyone else."

Tears stung in Mary's eyes stung. "You did. For a short while." Those brief moments in the hospital room before the accident had been the only time the three of them had been a family. It wasn't fair— not to Matthew, not to her, and certainly not to George. Had he lived, Matthew would have been the best possible father. "And he loved you. Very much."

George finally looked up. "I know." He kicked one of his little legs. "But I want a dad I can play with."

"Darling, I'm sorry things didn't work out with Henry," she said, suspecting this might be part of the problem. For all his faults, Henry had made a real effort to be involved with George. He gave him piggy back rides and took him out for ice cream. George had been upset when Mary informed him that she wouldn't be marrying him after all, especially when the only reason she could give was "He wouldn't have made us happy, Georgie. Not in the long run." Maybe, when he was older, she might be able to explain, but she would never repeat those parting words to another soul.

"I know. But I still want a dad." He stuck out his lip. "Why can't Tom be my dad?"

"I— well, I'm not married to Tom, darling," said Mary, startled by his question. It seemed to come out of nowhere, even though this whole mess had started because of it.

"Why not? We live together! All my friends' parents live together!"

"That's not the kind of family we are, Georgie—"

He let out a frustrated cry, turning away from her. "I don't want to talk to you anymore! You're mean!"

"I'm not being mean!" insisted Mary, who was horrified by how terribly this was going. She couldn't help but think of all those times when she told Matthew how she wasn't cut out to be a mother— and how true it was. Maybe with Matthew by her side, she might have been enough for her little boy, but clearly she wasn't. "I'm only telling you the truth! Please don't be upset, darling—"

"Go away!" He howled.

Mary didn't know what else to do. She kissed him in the side of his forehead, even as he let out an angry noise, saying, "I love you. Very much. And I wish you had a father, too. But I can't give one to you, no matter how much I want to." She left the room, tears in her eyes, before returning downstairs.

When Tom found her, she was at the table, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram on her phone. Sybbie had tucked the football under her arm, though it seemed rather cumbersome given its spherical shape and her small arms. "Hi Mary!" She greeted Mary with a bright smile before hurrying up the stairs.

She hadn't even said anything before Tom asked, "What's wrong?"

It all came pouring out. Mary didn't cry, thank God, but it was hard to admit all this even to Tom. He listened patiently, carefully to what she said, how felt. When she was done, he sat there quietly.

"Why couldn't I be his father?"

Mary blinked. "What?"

"If you don't mind, that is," he added hastily. "If it would make him feel better... he could call me Dad." He glanced up at her, nervous. "I'd never try to replace Matthew but... I know what it feels like." She knew he was thinking of his own father, who had died when he was young and never seemed to speak of much. "George is the closest thing to a son I have... and maybe it's not exactly conventional, but when has this family ever followed the rules?"

Mary was rendered silent, stunned. She couldn't help but think of Henry's insistences that Tom would eventually leave again. She hated the idea of George's heart breaking as he lost yet another paternal figure...

But his heart was breaking now.

Mary nodded. "If you think it will help, then I'm alright with it."

Tom grinned before reaching across the table, to where her hand was. "You're like a mother to Sybbie, too, you know." He swallowed. "It's not what we wanted for them, nor what we thought we'd give them... but you and I— we can be enough for them."

Mary didn't want to cry— so she didn't, even though she felt traitorous tears welling up in her eyes. "I know."


Spring 2019

It was jarring, at first, but Mary soon got used to it. In a way, it simplified things— when Mary had to pick the children up from a birthday party, Sybbie would simply say, "That's my Mummy, Mary," to the parents before climbing into the car. She didn't even start anymore when George would run up to her and ask if he could go with Daddy to the grocery store.

They settled into it. Sybbie still called her Mary most of the time... that is, unless she wanted something. "Mummy, can I please have more ice cream?" She would ask, giving Mary those puppy dog eyes. They were a fatal combination.

"Just one more scoop," Mary said, adding a small scoop to her bowl. "Don't tell your father." It was the thing she said when she indulged the children, usually when giving them sweets, and in the end she always caved to Tom, who would only scold her half heartedly for it. He never stayed mad at her— not for long.

Of course, not everyone saw it as an ideal solution. "Mary," began Granny one afternoon after she paid a visit to Crawley House for some tea, "My hearing isn't as good as it once was... but I could have sworn Sybil called you Mummy instead of Mary." She let out a titter of laughter. "Perhaps it is time for me to replace the batteries in my hearing aids."

Mary stiffened, stirring the milk into Granny's tea. She wished Tom were here— he had been the one to smooth things over with Papa when he had caught on to the new way things were done. He was always much better with words than she was...

"Don't worry, Granny. Your hearing aids are working just fine." Once it was the right shade of beige, Mary rejoined her grandmother at the kitchen table, handing her the cup— she had made sure to serve her with the antique china that had been gifted to her and Matthew by Granny. The sunlight was shining in through the window.

Granny arched a grey eyebrow. "Why didn't you correct her?"

"Because it isn't that big of a deal." Mary sat down as well. "Sybbie knows that I'm not really her mother... but she's lived with me almost her whole life. In some ways, I am like a mother to her." She squirmed internally under Granny's gaze, but refused to let it show. "And before you are startled, George has started calling Tom Dad."

Granny seemed to have nothing to say for once. She let out a sigh before lifting the tea to her lips. Mary followed suit, wishing the moment would pass without any more remarks. She loved her grandmother; as a little girl, Sybil had always been the one who Mama doted on, whereas Edith was always trying to do something to earn Papa's approval... but Mary had always looked up to Granny, who had always been the member of the family she saw the most of herself in. It was why, even though she hated the idea of disappointing her, Mary wouldn't budge just to satisfy her.

"It seems a peculiar sort of life the two of you have created," Granny finally said. She sat her cup down on the saucer in front of her. A half eaten biscuit sat there, edge to the lip of the place. "One that would hard for another person to enter."

Mary let out a sigh, understanding her meaning perfectly. "I don't think there was any danger of that sort of thing happening anytime soon, even without this."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Tom has said as much to me," Mary said, stirring her own cup, feeling the grains of sugar that had yet to dissolved scraping against the bottom of the cup. "And after the whole ordeal with Henry, my heart isn't it."

Granny nodded, contemplating it. "Well, I won't pretend that I'm not pleased you didn't go through with it... He was a nice man, and he had his moments, but he wasn't the one for you." Mary reached for her tea again. "But I hate seeing you give up so soon. Your best years are still ahead of you, you know... You don't have to spend them alone."

Mary knew that was true. Nearly everywhere she went, she attracted the attention of the male sex, who found themselves drawn to her. Nevertheless, so few of them appealed to her. Mary had rather exacting standards and wasn't about to settle... Not after Matthew.

And furthermore... "Even if I never find another man, I won't be alone. I'll have Tom."

Granny gave her a pitying look. This time, Mary was unable to restrain herself, flinching ever so slightly. "Will you?"

"Tom doesn't have any interest in that sort of thing," Mary insisted.

"Maybe not right now," Granny assented. "But he was with that dreadful Sarah woman for quite some time... and wasn't Edith trying to set him up with that friend of hers?"

"She tried and it fell through. He wasn't interested."

"Yes, but that was some time ago, Mary," pointed out Granny. She reached for her biscuit, dunking it in her tea before saying, "At some point, he will want to find someone."

All this talk was beginning to agitate Mary. "He's already said he doesn't want to," she said for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"People say a lot of things." Granny popped the biscuit into her mouth. Mary glowered into her cup of tea. "But we so often change our minds. Tom's no exception."

Mary said nothing, but thought of Tom's unwavering devotion to Sybil. It was possible one day he would change his mind... but that seemed as if it were in the far off distance. Even now, after seven years had passed, Tom remained unable to forget Sybil.

"Maybe he will," said Mary, "but I'm not holding him back." She was reminded too much of the conversation with Henry.

Granny's lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe not intentionally... but what is a potential girlfriend going to think of Sybbie calling you Mummy?"

Mary balked at what her grandmother was saying, even though she supposed she understood. It would be off putting, in a way... "She doesn't call me that all the time," Mary justified.

"All it would take is once," pointed out Granny, who was now finishing up her biscuit.

"It was Tom's idea," Mary insisted, not liking all of this being shifted onto her. "So if he ends up having problems with it, then I think it's up to him to fix it."

"But what if it causes problems for you?" asked Granny. "You're an attractive, intelligent young woman, Mary, and furthermore you've been in a long term relationship far more recently than Tom has. It's not impossible that some young man would take a shine to you."

"No, but it's unlikely I would take a shine to him."

"I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life; I only wanted to point out some of the setbacks of your new... arrangement. What you choose to do with the information is entirely up to you, my dear." Granny took another sip of tea before segueing into a conversation about the newfound romance between Isobel and Mary's godfather, Dickie.


July 28, 2019

It was a hot summer's evening, over six months since that night, when Mary finally gathered up the courage to ask, "Do you hear from Henry?" They were at the park, eating ice cream out of styrofoam cups whilst George and Sybbie ran around the playground.

Tom started, giving her a strange look. "No," he said, glancing down at his ice cream. "No, not really."

Mary frowned. After their first breakup, Tom had remained in contact with him. She blinked. "Just because I'm no longer with him, it doesn't mean you two still can't be friends," she informed him.

"I know that. But he doesn't." Now it was Mary's turn to give him a strange look. Tom elaborated, "Or at least, he doesn't want to. Not for a while, anyway." He looked down at his ice cream, which was in the gradual process of melting. "I've left the ball in his court. If he wants to start talking again, we can, but he didn't seem interested in that for a while."

Mary felt guilty. "So I've ruined everything," she lamented.

"Don't say that." Mary lifted up her head to find Tom looking back at her. "You haven't ruined anything. At the end of the day, I have my best friend and she seems much happier now than she was before. I'd say it's a vast improvement."

Mary smiled. "But what about Henry?"

"Henry was my friend, and I'll admit it was nice to have someone to talk to who loved cars as much as me... but he wasn't making you happy. I see that now. And I'm sorry," he said, now hurriedly, "for convincing you to take him back. I feel like I only made things worse in the end."

Mary shook her head. "Don't be." She knew plenty of people might look at it that way and while she could hardly say much had come out of her relationship with Henry, she was willing to overlook in favor to her life now. "I only feel guilty about hurting his feelings and damaging your friendship."

Tom shook his head. "That's not your fault." She could hardly see how it wasn't... but then again, perhaps he was choosing to look past it, just as she was looking past his stubborn insistences she be with Henry. "Henry needs a break from me. I understand." He finished up his final scoop of ice cream before saying, "Do you think we should go home?"

"Probably," Mary said with a sigh, checking the time on her phone. "Should we let them watch a movie tonight?"

"Why not?"

"I suppose that question depends on if you are ready or not to watch Frozen for the umpteenth time," said Mary with a smile which only grew wider as Tom's faded.

"What if we made a rule that we can only watch it once a week?"

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," said Mary, rising to her feet to throw away her garbage. "You can sing along with me. Surely you know all the lyrics to those songs by now."

Tom sighed. "I do," he admitted, managing a smile before they called the children over.


September 4, 2019

"A baby?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

Mary reminded herself now wasn't the time to get irritated with Thomas for delivering important news conversationally. "Well, congratulations!" exclaimed Mary, beaming. "I'm pleased for you!"

Thomas grinned, looking chuffed. "Thanks."

"Well, when will I meet Baby Barrow-Kent?" asked Mary.

"Don't know yet," said Thomas, glancing to his computer. "One of Jimmy's friends has offered to be to be our surrogate and to give us the egg... so it'll take some time before everything's settled but... we're excited."

"And I'm excited for you," said Mary, beaming ear to ear. Jimmy was great with children, of course, and Mary had observed Thomas with George and Sybbie enough to know he'd be a wonderful father.


December 25, 2019

It had been an accident. Obviously. The eggnog (among other things, like the sherry for Santa) clearly had gone to their heads, leading them both to act like complete imbeciles.

"Shh!" Mary hushed him in between giggles as Tom tripped over a present (ironically enough, it was her gift to him: a pair of slippers to replace his old ones), nearly careening into the sliding door. "You have to be quiet! We can't wake them up."

"It's okay," Tom said, trying to balance himself. His hands were pressed against the glass, leaving imprints of condensation behind before they vanished. "They'll just think it's Father Christmas."

Mary put another wrapped present under the tree, trying to maintain equilibrium while squatting before finally realizing such a thing would be extremely difficult and finally sat down to shove it under its branches. "We're going to have headaches in the morning," she told him before letting out another giggle, pushing the present under the tree.

Tom staggered across the room, stepping away from the Christmas tree with exaggerated movements that caused Mary to laugh yet again. "Why d'you laugh so much when you're drunk?" He asked, looking decidedly amused as he loomed over her.

Mary shrugged, grinning up at him. The lights from the Christmas tree and the fire cast a glow on him. He looked... well, pretty.

Apparently, she'd said the last bit aloud, because Tom countered back, "You're the pretty one, not me." She was somewhat embarrassed, but Tom offered her his hand a second later. "Need help getting up?"

Mary nodded, placing her hand in his. It took some effort, from both of them, to tug her to her feet, but eventually she stood at her full height. She didn't let go of him, liking how warm his hand was and desperately needing to lean on him. "How are we going to get up the stairs?" Mary whispered, suddenly thinking of the battle they were in for.

"Carefully," answered Tom.

They gripped the bannisters on either side of them and one another as they climbed up to the first landing, where Tom's room was. "Can you manage okay?" He asked, eyeing the next ten steps that lead up to Mary's room.

"I think so." She was somewhat daunted by what was going to feel like perilous journey, but maybe if she crawled up the stairs... Mary turned around. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," said Tom, grinning at her with a strange, admiring look in his eye. Mary swayed in place, seemingly unable to move, utterly transfixed by him. He just looked so handsome, the lights from the living room still shining on part of his face.

Without stopping to think if it was a wise idea or not, Mary leaned forward, her lips pressing against his. What are you doing? A voice inside her head demanded, realizing now that it was a mistake. He wasn't kissing her back...

Until he was. And in that moment, Mary allowed herself to enjoy it, marveling at the feelings it was eliciting. Who would have known Tom was such a good kisser? She should have done this years ago...

For a few minutes, nothing else existed. Mary gasped against his mouth, prompting his tongue to seek access. One of his hands had snaked around her waist, gripping her hip to hold her upright and the other was cradling the back of her neck, both succeeding in bringing her closer to him. Her hands were on either side of his face, thumbs brushing against smooth skin.

There was no elegance to it— in fact, it lacked all semblances of finesse. It would have been a disgusting display to any onlooker, but Mary couldn't get enough. It had been ages since she felt this exhilarated... She couldn't think straight anymore. All coherent thought was driven out of her mind and Mary moved herself closer to him, determined to savor it.

It wasn't until they heard a sound of a door creaking open that they parted. Mary leaned against the wall, spine pressing into the window ledge whilst Tom backed up against his door. Sybbie clambered out into the hallway. "Oh. It's just you."

"Who else would it be, darling?" Mary asked, somehow managing to speak.

"I thought it was Santa." She looked very grumpy, but it was hard to tell in the dark. She certainly sounded disgruntled. "Why are you awake? Santa won't come if you're still up!"

"We're just going to bed now," Tom told her, sounding remarkably sober. "And he won't come if you're awake, either, so go back to sleep."

Sybbie grumbled before going back to her room, door shutting behind her.

Mary let out a sigh of relief that she didn't realize she had been holding. Her mind was still a little muddled, but the shock of Sybbie almost finding them had sobered her up a bit. She turned to look at Tom, whose posture had gone rigid. When their eyes met, there was a moment of silence. "Well... goodnight, then," he said finally, hand reaching for the door knob.

"Goodnight," echoed Mary, turning away. She reached for the hand rail, holding it tightly. She heard Tom's door open and shut before she had even reached the final step.

When she collapsed on her bed, Mary stared up at the ceiling. Sleep usually came easily to her after a night of overindulging, but this time her mind was racing. She had kissed Tom... and he had kissed her back.

Mary waited, for those pinpricks of guilt she was supposed to feel that would slowly consume her but instead she felt nothing of the sort. Instead, her mind kept straying back to that kiss, reliving it each time she closed her eyes.

She was less astonished by the fact that she had kissed Tom now, more amazed that they had kissed each other and that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself in the process. In fact, she would be hard pressed to name anyone since Matthew who had succeeded in giving her so much pleasure from a simple kiss. Pleasant was the nicest thing she could manage from her previous three dalliances, maybe a Quite nice for Henry and Charles at their best but never anything reaching the magnitude of what she had experienced with Tom.

Furthermore, now her brain was contriving ways of making it happen again... which even in her still drunken state, she realized was a bad idea. There was no possible way that could happen again. Ever. To say nothing of irreparably damaging their friendship and possibly besmirching their dead spouses, Mary was fairly convinced that kissing Tom likely wouldn't even be halfway as good if she was sober. That must have been part of the reason why she had forgotten Matthew and Sybil so easily... obviously.

But in a strange sort of way, Mary wasn't convinced they would mind. It would be one thing if either or both of them were still alive, as that would obviously be a genuine betrayal, but now that they were both gone, it was safe to say Mary and Tom had created a bond completely separate from either of them. It wasn't even completely unheard of anymore for in-laws to marry after losing their spouses... and any rate, Mary could confidently say that if Matthew to have any say in choosing a romantic suitor, he would approve wholeheartedly of Tom.

This is nonsense, thought Mary, tossing and turning. What was she thinking? Obviously nothing could ever happen with her and Tom! For heaven's sake, he was her best friend! Mary groaned into her pillow before resolving to get some sleep... but a part of her knew it would be hard to sleep when she kept picturing that kiss each time she closed her eyes.


Mary managed a scant few hours of sleep before George and Sybbie threw open her bedroom door, jumping onto bed with squeals.

"Mummy! Mummy, wake up!"

"Santa's been here!"

"Come on!"

She felt like a zombie as she was lead down the stairs, moving woodenly as the children ran to the tree. Grey light streamed in through the windows, the rising sun hidden by thick clouds. Her gaze lingered on Tom's door and she found herself wondering if she had imagined it all... or if it had been a realistic dream.

However, upon setting her sights on Tom when she made it to the bottom of the stairs, Mary knew it had really happened. He made no indication that he too remembered the kiss but Mary just instinctively know it wasn't the product of her imagination. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, two mugs of coffee in his hand. He held out the red mug to her, which she accepted gratefully, their fingers brushing together. She started ever so slightly but gave no other indication it had affected her.

"Thanks," she said, voice thick with sleep.

"I thought you might need it."

Was he going to mention it? Did he even remember? Mary thought she had been more far gone last night, but perhaps she was mistaken. Nevertheless, she sipped her coffee, and eventually the two of them migrated to the couch as the children ripped open their gifts.

They weren't granted a moment alone until the children were sent upstairs to dress for Grandmama and Donk's. Mary was about to go up the stairs to do the same before Tom asked, "D'you mind if I had a word with you?" He sounded oddly nervous.

Mary wanted desperately to run away from it but nodded. "I suppose we should."

"Right." Tom scratched the back of his neck, displaying a small hole in the armpit of his shirt. "I guess... Well, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" asked Mary, confused. "I was the one who..." She trailed off, seemingly unable to say it.

"Really?" Tom's eyes widened. "I thought it was me." Mary sat there for a moment, for once uncertain of what to say, which prompted Tom to asked, "But everything with us... it's okay, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Mary said, only now relaxing. She wasn't certain what it was she had been dreading, but every fear was obliterated just then.

Tom smiled back at her. "I suppose it was bound to happen at some point," he said, leaning against the bannister. "Considering how long we've been friends and all."

Mary blinked. "Does that sort of thing happen to you often, then?" She asked lightly, but heard her voice go up in pitch. "Kissing people when you're drunk?"

Tom shrugged, now looking a bit sheepish. "I wouldn't say often... but it's been known to happen a time or two." He shifted nervously. "It happened more when I was younger."

Mary suddenly remembered Edna and felt sick to her stomach. Something about this disconcerted her... and for some reason, knowing it was entirely meaningless encounter bothered her more than it should. She should be pleased, shouldn't she, to know Tom wasn't about to confess to having secret feelings for her or something like that? "Well, I can't admit to ever doing the same," Mary said, still flustered,"but I suppose I know what it's like, for things to get out of hand."

Tom let out a relieved sigh. "So we're okay, then? The two of us?"

Something about the way he said it caused Mary's stomach to flip in a good way. Maybe it was because his voice had dropped down, quiet and low, or maybe it simply because their eyes had locked, meaning she was momentarily hypnotized by the bright blue... "Of course we are," replied Mary, almost a little too breathlessly. Then, when she realized what she sounded like, she composed herself to say, "I think it would take an awful lot to spoil things between us."

Tom let out a soft laugh. "You're probably right. We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

"We certainly have." Births, deaths, breakups, weddings, funerals... There wasn't a single milestone the other hadn't been present for. They were inextricably linked to one another, for better or worse. Mary honestly couldn't think of anything that could cause their friendship to fracture... and something as innocuous as a drunken kiss certainly wouldn't dissolve it.

They exchanged a smile. "We'd better head upstairs and get dressed," said Tom, glancing down at their Christmas pajamas.

When their hands brushed as they walked up the stairs, Mary ignored the electric current that seemed to spark through her body. Don't be ridiculous, she told herself, sparing a glance to the man beside her, It's Tom. Everything's completely platonic.