A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I really do appreciate every single one!

These two are back at it again, so if you want to skip the more mature stuff, stop reading when Mary suggests they go to bed and pick up after the page break.


New Normal

Chapter Sixteen

Mary didn't wake until Tom's alarm went off and he began stirring beside her. The shrill noise was grating, especially so early in the morning. The silence came as a relief after he hit snooze for the first time.

Like every other morning that week, Mary began to slowly become more and more aware of her surroundings. She was completely naked, one arm draped across Tom's chest as she laid on her side. Not for the first time, she began to wonder if there was something wrong with her... or, for that matter, both of them.

The guilt started up again. It hadn't threatened to overwhelm her until after the second time, when it became clear that this was more than just a one time occurrence. After coming down from her high and drifting into a deep sleep, Mary had been haunted by a dream of Sybil, demanding to know why Mary was sleeping with her husband. She only recalled fragments of it when she woke up, but she remembered the anger on her sister's face, the accusation in her voice, the way she yelled, "You've ruined my life!"

It had taken almost a whole day to remind herself that she wasn't betraying Sybil... at least not in that way. If Sybil were still alive, Mary knew with certainty this would have never happened. Tom would have been little more than an in-law she saw at holidays, a character in Sybil's stories of living in Ireland. No— Mary never would have done anything to intentionally hurt Sybil.

But now... well, Mary didn't know how to feel about this. In the grand scheme of things, they had done nothing wrong. They were two single friends living together and releasing the tension of quarantine through sex. They were living in unprecedented times and coping the best way they could...

Except things weren't that straightforward. Before anyone had even considered they would spend weeks locked up in their own homes, they had shared a kiss. As loath as Mary was to admit it, perhaps Charles Blake had been right after all. She had looked him up on Facebook the other day, learning he was now in Poland. She had been tempted to message him and let him know she understood now what he had been saying, but decided against it. After the way things ended between them, she doubted he wanted to hear from her ever again.

But at the same time, the issue was staring them right in the face. She was sleeping with Tom— Sybil's Tom. As in the man she was supposed to marry. If she felt like making it even worse, Mary could remind herself that Tom had been Matthew's best friend as well.

It was madness. All sense was telling her this shouldn't have happened in the first place, that it shouldn't continue happening...

But when they went to bed that night, lips pressed together and hands caressing every inch of bare skin available, she was too far gone to think about where her sanity might be.


Things had changed in only the subtlest of ways and yet in some of the most significant ways. Their day to day life was hardly affected at all; practically everything was the same as it had always been, quarantine adjustments aside. In fact, if anyone else were to observe them together, it would have been impossible for them to distinguish a difference.

Mary, however, was acutely aware of how things had changed. She catalogued it carefully in her mind. She now realized how much time she spent watching him. Her eyes lingered on his lips far more often that strictly acceptable whenever they talked, mind thinking about how they had felt against her thigh the night before. When he was on his phone and unaware of her presence, Mary was able to take in each aspect of his appearance and marvel at how handsome he was. She found herself offering to wash the dishes so he wouldn't wear those obnoxious yellow rubber gloves he always insisted on putting on, allowing her the chance to watch his hands while he did the drying up.

Similarly, she was now aware of the way her body reacted to him. Her heart beat faster now, it seemed, especially when he did something sweet like make her favorite for dinner when he knew she'd had a long day dealing with the children. Compliments became more treasured, something she replayed in her mind during the quiet moments. And— most notably— she found, at different points in the day, she was counting down the hours until the children were asleep so she could get them back into her bedroom.

But Tom had altered his behavior towards her, too— apart from obvious. It took her a while to put her finger on the change but soon Mary realized that he was avoiding touching her. She had taken for granted those small touches he bestowed her: brushing past one another to get into the kitchen, their feet bumping under the table, his hand reaching out towards her in moments where she needed comfort... if their hands so much as connected when she handed him the remote, he jerked it away as if it were on fire. In fact, he kept a respectable distance from her at all times now; she suspected he would be a perfect model for the two meters difference they were meant to be maintaining.

Of course, it was a completely different story behind closed doors. Like Mary, it seemed as if he had been waiting all day for them to finally be alone. At that point in time, it almost seemed as if he could hardly bear not touching her. Though there was usually a sense of urgency to it, Tom was also willing to take his time. It was maddening and exhilarating in equal measures.

He must have thought about it as often as she did, how bizarre it was that things had taken this turn. While not wholly unforeseen, Mary was astonished by how quickly life could change, personally and globally. The world was upside down and instead of trying to retain normalcy, it seemed her and Tom and silently given into the madness.

They never spoke of it. It was a rule they both maintained, one Mary was glad that existed. For one thing, if Tom has decided they needed to sit down and talk about their feelings, Mary wasn't sure how she would respond. Putting a name to her emotions at present seemed impossible... especially when she found herself feeling guilty for how much she enjoyed herself.

Nevertheless, Mary figured that at some point this would come to a natural conclusion. Once the virus gone in a few months and the world was all right again, the addition would be built onto the house and this would come to its end. Considering at how well they were handling not letting it ruin things now, Mary figured it would be easy enough for them to slip back into familiar roles once it was over. After all, this was simply a way to relieve stress and escape the real world for a while.

They weren't dating— that much was clear to her. Considering there had been no discussions (of any sort) between them, it was a purely physical thing. Besides, Mary remembered his hesitance to enter relationships. Lucy seemed to indicate he was willing to step back into the dating scene but she wasn't wholly certain. There was no need to pretend it was more than what it was— it was just sex.

If only she could have convinced herself of that.


"How is everyone doing?"

"Well," said Mary, crossing her legs over her lap. She wished she had grabbed a jacket before stepping out onto the back porch. Mama had called and she had gone outside to prevent herself from distracting the children. "Keeping busy. Has Papa checked his email yet?"

"Mary, you know he's supposed to be taking things easy," scolded Mama. "He doesn't need to be stressed out over estate things when life is already hectic as it is."

Mary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The email had simply been about the virtual tours. She was starting to realize such a thing was unlikely to come into fruition, especially since it was going to be impossible for her to drive over and oversee things herself. Papa was many things, but technologically savvy was not one of them.

"Well, please tell him to check when it is convenient. I promise it's nothing terribly daunting."

"You haven't told me how my grandchildren are," Mama prompted, ignoring Mary's request.

She bit back a sigh. "They're doing schoolwork. Homework packets and such. It's hardly exciting but otherwise they're enjoying being home."

"They don't miss their friends?"

"Oh, they do, but they're managing well enough," said Mary. "And they're already each other's best friend, so they're lucky in that regard."

Mama let out a sigh and Mary wondered if she was wistfully wishing Mary and Edith could have been the same way. It certainly would have made things more harmonious growing up. "Are they still sharing a room?"

Mary tensed. "Why do you ask?" Her voice took on a shrillness that was normally absent.

"Well... don't you think they're getting a little old for that, dear? I know they love each other but at some point, they'll need their own space..."

Mary was suddenly very glad that her and Tom had already prepped George and Sybbie about not mentioning the bedroom situation with anyone. She suspected they would be in need of a reminder soon, especially if Mama was asking prying questions like this. "We're planning on building an addition to the house once all this is over," she said with a sigh. "For now, there's very little we can do... unless you have any suggestions?"

Another sigh. "I suppose not," admitted Mama reluctantly.

Mary was surprised by the relief she felt after hearing her say that. A two weeks ago, Mary might have readily welcomed advice on how to handle alternative sleeping arrangements. Now she was glad she would have no excuse to tell Tom about the brilliant idea Mama had offered up that didn't involve sleeping on a couch or sharing a bed.

"How's Tom?"

"He's doing well. He's busy."

"I'll bet." Mary shifted in her seat, nearly dropping her phone when Mama asked, "Has he been staying up late at night?"

"No more than me," replied Mary smoothly, though her cheeks felt warm. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"Oh, I just wondered if he had more work now with things the way they are now," Mama asked, causing a sigh of relief to escape Mary. "It seems like everything changes so quickly."

"Well, he's more focused on things going on in our area." Tom had been telling her about the piece he was doing on nursing homes and the no-visitor policies. She remembered the passion in his voice as he described it to her, how much he truly cared about properly reporting on the story. "He doesn't have to keep up with things going on in your country anymore or else I suspect he would be."

Mama made a somewhat annoyed noise. "Don't forget that it's also the country where your grandmother lives," she pointed out. "And I'm worried about her. I'd go visit her and make sure she is okay through all of this, but with flights shut down, I can't."

Mary immediately felt guilty. Usually when she spoke of America with Mama, it was when she was trying to shove her mother away or stop her from pushing in, a way to remind her of how different they were. She supposed now wasn't the time for this, especially since there was no telling when she would see her mother in person again. "I didn't mean it like that," she said wearily. "I was merely saying that Yorkshire is a little more quiet compared to the whole of America. That's all."

"It certainly is." The call concluded shortly after that, with Mary promising to give everyone else her and Papa's love. She hung up, hands cold and ill at ease.


"Something is bothering you," Tom said as they walked down the stairs after sending George and Sybbie to bed.

Mary didn't even bother hiding it. She merely shook her head. "It's nothing," she lied, but when he dealt her a serious look, she let out a sigh and amended, "At least it's nothing to trouble you with."

"I'd like to help if I can," he offered.

Mary was almost ashamed at how quickly her mind went to the gutter after hearing that, especially when she sensed there was no ulterior motives for him to say such a thing. If anything, Tom looked genuinely eager to alleviate her worries. It was just him being sweet, not simply trying to hurry her to the bedroom.

So she decided to confide in him. "Do you think I'm rather thoughtless?" It was a loaded question, considering one could easily make the argument she hadn't been thinking when it came to him, but she wanted to hear his answer regardless. The disagreement with Mama still bothered her.

Tom frowned. "Why would you say something like that, for heaven's sakes?"

Mary shrugged. "I had a disagreement with Mama today."

"Did she say anything?" His tone was suddenly sharp. She was taken aback by his intensity.

Shaking her head, Mary replied, "No. It was just me being my normal self... but it bothered me." Feeling ridiculous, she turned away from him. "It's nothing. Really."

Tom was quiet beside her until he said, "Sometimes you say things and they don't come out the wrong way. It happens to us all. There's nothing wrong with you. That's just a part of who you are."

"Well sometimes I wish I weren't," she admitted, staring down at her own feet, ankles crossed in front of her.

"Then that tells me that you aren't nearly as bad as person as you try to convince yourself you are." His arm seemed to twitch, as though he wanted to wrap it around her to comfort her, but thought better of it. Mary couldn't help but wonder what was stopping him... and she found herself wishing he hadn't. She could use his touch to soothe her just about now. "Someone who didn't want to change or make things better might be, but not you."

She lifted up her head to make eye contact with him. The lights in the room were dimmed but she could see him clearly, in ways she never had before. "You sound so sure."

"Because I am." He smiled at her. "You're my best friend. I see how you care for others around you and I know that you always do the best you can. So I'm not worried about it. Not at all."

Mary couldn't help but think it was rather a sunny opinion of her, as sometimes it was easier to slip into the version of herself full of caustic remarks and causing problems for others. But she wouldn't refute him, not when he was being so honest and kind. He was smiling at her, with a tenderness she didn't feel she deserved, but was willing to accept nonetheless.

Her gratitude couldn't be encapsulated in words. She settled for a smile, letting that do the talking for her, until a few minutes later, after the conversation had shifted to lighter topics, and asked, "Are you ready for bed now?"

He understood her meaning. He answered her with a nod and they walked up the stairs, at a speed that was perhaps a little too quick to be considered respectable.

The second the door shut behind them, Mary was pinning him to the door, her lips against his. She poured out the thank you she hadn't been quite able to say, hands reaching for the hem of his shirt to pull it off of him. His moans spurred her on as she pressed kisses to every inch of exposed skin she could.

"You don't— Mary, you don't—" he managed to gasp out when she sank down to her knees.

"I know," she said, meeting his eyes, hands poised over his zipper. His eyes were wide and full of awe, her heart hammering fast in her chest. "But I want to."

Tom's lips parted and he nodded slowly, granting her permission to carry forward.

For the next few minutes all that existed was him. All that mattered was him, his fingers tangled in her hair, his cries above her the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She only ceased her attentions when his hands left her hair and she heard him say, "Stop." His hand trailed down, fingers brushing against her cheek.

Mary tilted her head up so that Tom met her gaze. "Come here," he said softly, hand leaving her cheek and offered to her. He tugged her up to her feet gently before pressing a languid kiss to her lips, then to her neck. Soon she felt his hands on her again, gradually removing her own clothing, but again all Mary could think about was him, even when he turned to focus on her. Though she gasped against his mouth, unable to truly vocalize anything, it was Tom she thought of and the knowledge that it was his fingers bring her pleasure brought her there even faster.

It wasn't until they were both of the bed, Mary on her back and staring up at the ceiling that it hit her. I love him. Of course... how hadn't she seen it before? I love him.

Tom crawled over top of her, eyes meeting hers. Mary wondered if he could somehow see the revelation in her eyes.

If he did, he said nothing. He simply let his hand trail down her body until he was lifting her leg up. It was Mary who brought their lips together once more, hands fists in his hair. As he entered her Mary let out a shuddery gasp. It hadn't occurred to her until just now how right it felt.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, lips by her ear. He had stopped, frozen.

"Perfectly," she assured him before angling his head so she could keep kissing him. Tom was apparently convinced as he thrust into her, that singular phrase repeated itself over and over again.


Sleep did not come to her easily. At least an hour had passed since her and Tom had exchanged one last kiss, his eyelids barely open. "Night," he mumbled against her lips before settling down.

"Night," she whispered back. She laid down on her own pillow, hoping she was fall asleep soon... but it hadn't come yet.

I'm really in love with him. Tom. I'm in love with Tom.

She stole a glance at the man in question, a sheet draped over the lower half of his body. His chest rose and fell steadily. Mary curled up on her side, simply watching him. How had this happened? Or rather... how had it taken her so long to realize it?

Sighing, Mary rolled back onto her back, mind alive. How was it possible for him to sleep so soundly when she felt so restless? Everything had changed now... for her, at least. She wondered if it would mean a change for him as well.


After only a few hours of sleep and a night full of tossing and turning, Mary rose first when the sky was still dark, stepping into the bathroom to relieve herself and wash her face. When she approached the sink, she inspected herself carefully, just as she had the first morning after. Her eyes seemed brighter, she decided, before washing her face.

She started the shower up a few minutes later, relishing in the feel of the not-too-warm, not-too-cool water pouring down on her. Eyes closed, she relived everything, still in awe. She was in love... with Tom. It didn't seem possible and yet, at the same time, who else could it have been? Who else was it supposed to be, when he understood her like no one else?

When Mary reentered the bedroom, towel wrapped around her, the sun had already begun to rise, she found Tom still asleep. He looked so peaceful. He was laying on his back, the sunlight filtering through the blinds casting a golden glow on his face. Did he have any idea how she felt? Did he truly grasp just how important he was to her?

Mary dressed quickly in some work out clothes, hair still wet and thrown into a ponytail. Tom never stirred, so she waited until she reached the hallway before sending him a quick text.

MARY: I've gone out for a run. I don't know what time I will be back.

Being near him, being confined in this house was too overwhelming at present. It was early enough in the day that Mary suspected not many people would be out, but she grabbed her mask just in case, along with her AirPods and went outside. The air was cool but not unbearably so, and she knew it would feel pleasant once she started. She started up her music, Valerie by Amy Winehouse blasting in her ears before setting off.

It was hard to concentrate on her thoughts, which was a welcome relief. Belatedly, Mary began to realize that perhaps showering beforehand wasn't the smartest option... She wouldn't have to see anyone else the rest of the day, besides Tom and the children... and while Tom had seen her in many worse states than sweaty and disheveled, it wasn't exactly the image of herself she wanted of herself in his mind.

Without really realizing it, Mary found herself in front of the white picket fences of the Bates residence. The sun was beating down on her as she unlatched the gate, stepping into their yard. Mary pulled out her phone, pausing her music to call Anna.

"Hello?"

"Hi," was all she could say.

"Hi, Mary. What's up?"

"I'm your yard right now," said Mary, feeling rather awkward. "And... Well, I'm not going into your house but I wondered if you wouldn't mind talking to me through a window or something?" She closed her eyes, clenching them shut before saying, "I just really need to talk to you—"

"Go to the window by the breakfast nook. There should be a lawn chair in the shed— it's unlocked. Do you want anything to drink?"

Mary couldn't resist smiling. Even in the midst of a pandemic, Anna was the perfect hostess as always. "Do you have any wine?" She joked.

"Not at eight in the morning I don't."

"Very well. I wouldn't mind some water." Between her run and the now bright sun, Mary was feeling even more sweaty and disheveled than before.

"Got it. Check the front door before you go over to the breakfast nook. I'll meet you there."

Mary smiled before slipping her phone back into her pocket and trudging over to Anna and John's garden shed. The lawn chairs were quite dusty, obviously not having been used for some time, but Mary brushed it off easily. A plastic water bottle sat on the front porch, cold to the touch as if it had been sitting in the fridge for her. Mary pressed it to her forehead before walking to the back of the house.

Anna sat in front of the open window, a mug in her hands. "I'm so glad to see you!" She professed, smiling from ear to ear. She looked tired, but happy, which either meant Johnny had been up through the night or she had been working late on her newest book. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you, too," Mary replied, truly meaning it. Out of all her friends, Anna had been the one who had been around the longest and knew the most about her. "I feel like I have been going insane without you." She made sure she was two meters away from Anna, then backed up even further before setting up the lawn chair.

"I know what you mean," said Anna sympathetically. "Even though we're meant to be staying home, I feel like things have been more crazy than ever with Johnny. I don't know how I'd managed without John." She took a sip of her drink, which Mary knew was a green tea. "At least you have Tom. I'm sure that helps."

Mary had no idea how to tell Anna that Tom was the problem... or rather, that her feelings for him were. How was she supposed to tell Anna that they had been sleeping together, then that they had started sleeping together, and now that she was in love?

Thankfully, her silence clued Anna in. "Oh, dear... did you two have a fight? Is this what it's about?" She rested her chin in her hand, looking at Mary inquisitively.

"No..." Mary bit her bottom lip. "It's more difficult than that."

If she didn't already have Anna's attention, Mary was confident this was the phrase to draw her in. "You can tell me... if you need to."

Mary strained back, thinking of where she should start. "A few months ago, George and Sybbie grew tired of sharing a room," began Mary, staring down at her lap as she began recounting the tale.


By the time she had finished, it was confident to say Anna was gobsmacked. She had listened to Mary talk for quite some time, only jumping in to clarify certain details, such as, "Wait, was this pre-COVID or after everything...?" or "What about Lucy?"

There was a moment of silence before Anna finally spoke. "Oh, Mary..."

"Am I bad person?" asked Mary, eyes suddenly filling with tears.

"No, of course not!"

"I don't feel like one," she said, deciding to clear that up for Anna as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "But then suddenly I remember Sybil and Lucy and I just wonder—"

"You and Tom have always been close," Anna said, setting her tea on the table. She hadn't been drinking for quite some time, not after she had accidentally choked when Mary told her about the more physical side of things. "It's not a surprise to me, not really, that there's something more there."

But there isn't supposed to be, thought Mary stubbornly. It was wrong... For heaven's sakes, he was her brother-in-law! How could she have let this happen? How were things supposed to return the way they had once been?

"It's just me," she whispered, hardly loud enough for Anna to hear, moving her foot across the grass, watching the individual blades squashed down by her weight and unfurl.

"What do you mean?"

"It's only my end." Mary looked up her eyes to face Anna. "He doesn't... I know he doesn't feel the same way."

"You mean he's said that?"

"Not in as many words."

Anna let out a sigh. "Then in what words?" Mary suspected she was rather regretting not charging Mary for her advice. At this point, Anna was essentially her unpaid therapist.

"He's told me a million times that he's never going to get married. That he doesn't want a serious relationship." Each word was bitter in her mouth.

"He could still change his mind," Anna pointed out, looking a little more relaxed. She reached for her tea but didn't drink it, likely holding it for the sake of warming her hands. The sun had drifted behind some clouds, making it cooler. "Since he was with Lucy, it seems to indicate he's given some thought to moving on. And... I know I don't know Tom nearly as well as you do, but I don't see him as the sort of person who just sleeps with someone. Not that there's anything wrong with that," Anna added hastily, "but considering you're his best friend... he must feel something more."

"Well, it's hardly as if he can go out and meet someone else at the moment," Mary pointed out glumly. "I'm just... conveniently there."

Anna made a scoffing noise, which startled Mary. "Who are you and what have you done with Mary Crawley?" She said, almost disapprovingly. Her eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, but Mary could tell she wasn't truly upset. "It isn't like you to put yourself down like this!"

That wasn't entirely true. Mary knew she was a prickly person, even at the worst of times, and even difficult to be around. Just last night, she'd been complaining about her personality. Still, it was only that she took issue with... She never once had doubted her confidence to capture the attentions of a man... aside from Matthew. Mary grimaced once she realized that it seemed she had a type: men who weren't falling at her feet.

"I'm trying to be realistic," said Mary with a sigh.

"Well, you aren't," said Anna, crossing her arms. "It isn't out of the realm of possibility that Tom might feel the same way."

Mary said nothing but privately disagreed. She hadn't heard Tom all those times... "Perhaps," she finally acquiesced when she realized Anna was waiting for some sort of reply.

"You should talk to him about it," she urged. "Really."

Mary couldn't think of a worse idea. This whole thing between them was complicated enough as it was and Mary didn't dare to make it even more complex. After all... They were trapped in the same house with one another for the foreseeable future. The last thing she wanted was to completely ruin things. The time for that had been earlier on... and now it was really too late.

"I'll think about it," she said, simply to placate Anna. She rose to her feet. "Thank you for listening to me... and for the water."

"It's no problem," said Anna as Mary began folding up the chair. "I'm happy to help anyway I can."

Mary hesitated before asking, "Will you please keep this to yourself? I know you don't like keeping things from John, but—"

"It's alright. You don't need to worry." Anna smiled at her. "He understands that I can't share everything with him."

Mary returned the smile. "Thank you, Anna. Really."


When Mary finally arrived home, she found herself returning at the end of breakfast. "I saved some for you," said Tom, gesturing to the pans in the kitchen. "I didn't know if you'd eaten yet."

It was the little things like that that seemed to make her overwhelmed by the sheer weight of her adoration. "Thank you," said Mary, reaching for the empty plate on the counter and adding the French toast to her plate.

George and Sybbie went upstairs to work to their homework (something Mary was uncertain would actually work), leaving her and Tom at the table.

"Are you busy today?"

"Not really. A couple things, but nothing like it has been." Mary nodded, sipping at her tea.

They chatted with one another for some time, Anna's words playing in the back of her mind all the while. Maybe she was wrong... Should she say something? Or would she only ruin everything? She wished she could read his mind, to know if her words would be well received or if he would recoil in horror.

Her plate was empty and Tom was rising to his feet. "I should probably go take my shower," he mused aloud.

Without any thought if it was wise or not, Mary asked, "Do you need any help?"

At once she knew she had made a mistake. Silence fell over them both. Mary wished she should take it back, wincing inwardly. "No," Tom replied after a long while, wearing an odd expression on his face. Then, before Mary could try to convince herself that he hadn't picked up on her true meaning, he said, "Maybe some other time." It was hard to believe another time would come when he all but ran from the table, leaving her behind with her mortification.

Mary buried her face in her hands. God, why has she said that? It was hardly the heartfelt sentiment Anna had suggested, nor even an actual discussion about what was going on between them...

As she gradually returned to reality, Mary couldn't help but feel sullen. Considering his horror, it seemed unlikely he reciprocated her feelings, even in the smallest way. She let out a weary sigh before picking herself up and carrying on with her day.

Blessedly, Tom has elected to ignore her embarrassing moment from earlier. She had half dreaded he would bring it up, thinking about her blunder as she typed up an email full of typos to Thomas. When he rejoined her, however, he simply down beside her on the couch. After a moment or two, he asked, "Do you need me to go somewhere else?" Mary lifted your head head, wary and suspicious. He nodded to her computer. "You're working, aren't you? Do I need to go elsewhere?"

"Oh! No, not at all!" Mary was flustered, turning back to her laptop. "It's just an email to Thomas. Website things. He needs a response from Papa about the virtual tours. I don't know if it will work, to be honest."

Tom frowned. "Why not?"

"I don't know if you've met Papa, but he's not good at this sort of thing," said Mary, which caused him to chuckle. "I'd been planning on doing it, just to ensure everything would turn out alright, but I can hardly go to Downton now..."

As she continued talking, it was clear her blunder had been forgiven. There was no lingering tension, simply little comments and jokes... all the easiness they had always enjoyed with one another.

It was clear to Mary that he was oblivious to how she felt... which was a good thing. It meant that perhaps at some point, she could slowly wean herself off of it... perhaps once they switched back to having separate bedrooms. This was something she could conquer, something she could get over...

But when the night ended with her gasping for breath and Tom panting beneath her, hearts racing, Mary slowly resigned herself to her fate: this wasn't going anywhere.