A/N: Whoops, forgot to add this earlier! Thank you all for your lovely reviews last chapter! As you can see, I managed to squeeze in enough time to get this chapter ready! Hopefully I will be able to say the same next week too! I hope you enjoy!


New Normal

Chapter Twenty One

Now that George and Sybbie knew what was going on, there was no sense in Mary traveling to her next appointment to Dr. Ryder's alone. They woke relatively early in the morning, Mary still tired and sorely wishing she could steal Tom's coffee. Sybbie was full of excitement, chipper as ever, whereas George was drowsy and practically falling asleep before they pulled out of the driveway.

Mary went in alone, of course, though she desperately wished she could bring Tom in with her. That desire was only heightened when Dr. Ryder informed her that he could tell her the sexes that day. "Would you like to know?"

Mary hesitated. This was an important step. Just weeks ago, Anna had learned her and John were expecting a girl. Thomas and Jimmy had the option of learning from their surrogate but had decided against it.

There had been discussions over the matter and Mary did want to know, and she knew Tom did, too. It didn't seem quite fair that she learn first and tell Tom later. When he noted her reluctance to answer, Dr. Ryder proposed, "How about I just write it down and put it an envelope and you can open it if you want to?"

"That would be just perfect," said Mary, pleased there was such an easy solution. She wanted Tom to find out at the same time as her, just as he would if everything was normal.

The whole ride home, she was practically bursting at the seams, though she managed a calm, collected façade that betrayed none of her excitement. The children kept her distracted, asking questions about the doctor and about babies in general. Tom helped her explain things, which was something of a relief.

It wasn't until they returned home and the children went upstairs to play that Mary let Tom in on the secret. "I didn't know if you'd want George and Sybbie to find out with us or not," she said quietly as she led him to the couch, even though the children were far from earshot. "Besides, I didn't want to deliver such news while you were driving." She didn't need to clarify why.

Tom nodded, eyes trained on the envelope in her hands. "Fair enough," he said, equally quiet. "Should— should we find out right now?" She nodded.

Mary let Tom open it up, the suspense building with each moment that passed, even though it couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds total. "A girl and a boy," Tom said, reading the words written on the paper aloud. He turned to her, now grinning. "A girl and a boy, Mary!"

Before she could really process what was happening, Tom leaned in for a quick kiss. When they parted, Mary realized she was crying. "Damn hormones," she said, reaching up to wipe them away only for Tom to use his thumb to brush some away.

"You are happy, aren't you?" asked Tom, a worried look crossing his face.

"Of course I am." How could she not be? "It's only the hormones, I promise. Remember how weepy I got with George?"

"That's right. Didn't you once cry about dropping a piece of cheese on the floor?"

She scowled at him. "Don't tease me. I've plenty of ammunition to launch at you and I won't feel sorry about using it."

Her threats didn't seem to sober Tom up but he agreed, "You're right. I should know better than to mess with you. I'm sure all these years of being my best friend means you've plenty of embarrassing moments."

Her smile faded. Best friend. It wasn't that the title no longer held any value to her— no, she wholeheartedly considered him to be her best friend still. But the reminder that it was all she was to him hurt more than it ought.

But she reminded herself to smile. This was, after all, a happy occasion. "I suppose now we can start thinking about names," she said aloud.

"Do you have any ideas yet, then?"

Mary shook her head. "I've not let myself get that far ahead yet. Have you?" She remembered their earlier conversation about middle names.

He hesitated before shaking his head. "No, not really." She could tell he wasn't being wholly honest, but she would let it go. For now, anyway.


"We should tell my mother soon," Tom said one night as they laid in bed, clothes strewn across the floor. Why they even bothered with the pretense of wearing pajamas anymore was beyond Mary... it always seemed as though they were never worn for very long. "About the babies."

"Alright," said Mary, not knowing exactly how to respond. He had wanted to wait before telling his family, saying it would be best to hold off. She suspected learning the genders was a sign to him that they should know. She didn't know Kieran or his mother well enough to really assess how true that was, but she supposed they might as well learn now...

"Does this weekend sound good to you?" asked Tom, rolling on his side to face her.

"Sure." Mary knew she didn't exactly sound enthusiastic... though truth be told, she wasn't. She didn't know Tom's family— she had met them at Sybbie's christening and they'd seemed nice enough then, but Kieran had obviously disapproved of Tom's transformation since leaving Ireland and his mother Niamh had fussed over him, insisting he was still her baby. She wasn't quite certain how either of them would react, but given almost everyone else's reaction, she wasn't hopeful.

Tom's brow furrowed. "Are you okay?" He murmured, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Mary nodded, the slight gesture making her feel better. "Just a little nervous," she admitted.

Tom shook his head. "Don't be." His thumb began idly stroking her cheek. "Mam'll be glad to have more grandchildren to spoil."

Mary blinked. Tom had taken a couple brief trips to Ireland in the past with Sybbie to visit her... but now Mary realized she would likely be a part of this too, once it was safe. "Do you want to go visit her?" Mary asked, her own hand settling on his chest. "When this is all over and we have the babies?"

Tom nodded before then saying, "Or maybe she could come here?" He suggested. "Once the addition is built... well, we'll have a spare room for her. For awhile."

Mary tensed up, reminded of the addition. After weeks of indecision from Tom and mounting frustration from Mary and a pressure to make sure there would be enough room in time for their growing family, she had made the executive decision to have three rooms built on. It was another painful reminder that all of this was merely temporary. One day, he wouldn't be laying here beside her and would instead be in one of those rooms.

Traitorous tears began springing to her eyes, so she rolled into her side, facing the wall instead of Tom. "We can discuss it in more detail later," she said, blinking rapidly, somehow managing to keep her voice level. These damn hormones... if she weren't pregnant, she would have had no problems remaining composed... At least she liked to think so. "We had best go to sleep now, though."

"You're probably right," agreed Tom, completely oblivious as a tear rolled down Mary's cheek, the lone droplet clinging to her nose. "Goodnight." The lamp light turned off and Mary reached up to wipe it away.


They were doing dishes when Tom's phone sounded. "D'you mind checking that?" asked Tom loudly to be heard over the sound of running water and clinking dishes, holding up his gloved hands. Mary still felt they looked ridiculous, but she empathized. She loathed the touch of wet food. "It might be Mam or Kieran." He had been trying to get ahold of them both to figure out the best time to set up a Zoom meeting.

"Of course," said Mary as Tom angled himself around, pushing his hip close to her. It took all of her strength to not laugh at the strange stance he had adopted. She reached into his pocket, seeing a message... from Lucy. Her smile faded as she typed in his password.

The last texts they had exchanged were from mid March... just before her and Tom had... well, before anything had started between them. It mostly consisted of links to various new articles on the coronavirus and politics. As innocuous as it was, Mary's stomach twisted unpleasantly... she hadn't realize he was still in contact with her after they had broken things off. Worst of all was the newest text.

LUCY: Hey Tom, I know it's been a while, but I was wondering if maybe we could maybe meet up sometime soon? I've missed you and with everything opening up again now, I was hoping we might be able to pick things up again if you're interested

It was an innocent message, one that Mary had no right to be angry over... but she still felt irritated nevertheless. It was the cruel reminder that before the world had turned upside down and Tom was moving into her bedroom, he had been with someone else. Lucy was, as loath as Mary was to admit it, a very nice girl. She was kind and strong and pretty, all the things Mary would want for him if she didn't want him for herself. Tom had stated that he doubted she would want to be with him... but what if she did? She had been perfectly understanding about their peculiar relationship beforehand.

"Who is it?"

"Lucy," replied Mary, blinking rapidly. She wasn't sure how to feel— was she angry? Sad? Why was she even bothering to speculate when nothing was determined just yet.

Tom's motions stilled. "Oh." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Well... that's a surprise."

"Is it really?" She asked dully. She wondered if she ought to slip the phone back into his pocket but that seemed such a personal gesture, when she was actively looking at a text from his ex-girlfriend... or maybe his soon-to-be girlfriend, if she was willing to overlook things.

"Well, I haven't heard from her in a while," said Tom, oblivious to Mary's dark mood. She locked his phone again, holding it outstretched for him to take back. "I'm a little surprised, that's all. What did she have to say?"

"She wants to get back together with you."

Tom stopped everything. He turned off the sink. "She does?"

Mary nodded, lowering her arm and his phone when she realized he wasn't about to accept it. "What will you say?"

"What do you think I'm going to say?" Tom was little more brusque than normal as he began prying the rubber gloves off. "I'm going to tell her about the babies."

"Before you tell your own mother? Before you tell Kieran?" He stopped, one bare hand mid tug at the middle finger on his other glove. Feeling particularly spiteful, Mary asked, "Why are you in such a hurry to respond to her, anyway? Do you think if you respond as quickly as possible, she'll be willing to overlook it?"

"Of course not." Tom had pulled off both gloves now. He took the phone from her hands and said, "D'you mind finishing up? I'm going to give her a call."

"Do you want to get back together with her?" demanded Mary, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't think that will be a big factor in the trajectory of things," Tom told her wearily.

"That's not what I asked."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I'm pregnant, Tom!"

"I know that," Tom said, so frustratingly level and even.

"I think I have the right to know what you intend to do in your life, if you have any say in the matter, considering it will affect our children." Mary wasn't looking at him now, eyes diverted towards the floor.

Tom let out a sigh. "I like Lucy," he admitted, causing Mary's temper to flare. "She's very nice, very sweet... but I think this is a lot more than she ever asked for."

"That doesn't answer my question," Mary gritted out. Why was it so hard to get a simple answer out of him? As much as even she hated to admit that Lucy was kind and smart and all those wonderful things, it hurt to hear Tom talk about them, as if he still clearly viewed her as a romantic interest.

"I don't understand why it matters! Nothing is going to change. I'll still be here for you."

That wasn't enough. It should have been— it was more than what some had been granted— hell, it was more than what either of them had been granted when they were raising their children, but at this point in her life, it was completely unacceptable.

"Why can't you just answer the question?"

"Because I don't see what difference it makes!"

"Then what is the harm in answering it?" countered Mary.

"Plenty, as you seem angry right now and I don't know why you are even asking," Tom responded tightly.

They simply kept talking in circles, over and over. The loop had to break at some point. She only wished it hadn't been her.

"Because I don't want you to!"

The exclamation had flown past her lips without permission. Mary had froze instantly, wishing she hadn't said anything to start with. She had really put her foot in it...

Tom was speechless as well, brows furrowed in confusion. The silence that had fallen over them was weighty and oppressive. Mary felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Then Tom blinked. "Alright." He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Mary finally inhaled again, letting herself be pulled into a false sense of security as she turned back to the sink, one that didn't involve Tom adding a couple seconds later, "Can I ask why?"

She froze. Every muscle in her body tensed. Still, determined to maintain a veneer of her usual aloofness, she replied, "You can, but there's no guarantee I'll answer."

"I think I deserve some sort of answer," Tom said, now sounding somewhat frustrated. Still, Mary stared ahead, reaching for a plate. "Is it— Do you not like her, then? Lucy?"

Why was he doing this? "No... Lucy's very nice."

"Then what is it?"

Mary gnawed on the inside of her lip, lowering the plate down. Surely, he had to know... What other explanation was there? "Please don't make me say it."

"I need to hear it," insisted Tom, "because I don't know what else it is. I can't see inside your head."

How could he not know? She couldn't say those three words to him, not while she washed dishes in their kitchen sink and their children were just in the next room over and certainly not when she was jealous and angry. She refused to... So instead Mary stared straight ahead, tried to keep her voice as even as possible before saying, "I have feelings for you."

She was met with silence. Mary dared to turn her head to the side, ever so slightly, to watch him nod in the periphery of her vision. "Okay," was all he said, and the single word felt like a cannonball being launched at her. Mary stilled once again, even once he shuffled beside her, reaching for his gloves yet again and resumed doing the dishes.

Well, thought Mary, bravely managing to reign her tears in, a lump in her throat. At least I didn't tell him I loved him. How would he have responded to that? "Thanks for letting know?"

Once the dishes were cleaned and dried, Tom began removing his gloves once more. "I'm going to go out for a drive," he told her, "And when I come back, we'll... we'll talk about this, alright?"

Mary didn't think she could speak... at least not without sobbing. God, why was she crying so much lately? She could only blame so much of it on her pregnancy... So she nodded instead, feeling it was rude to not give him a semblance of an answer.

He seemed to accept this. He moved towards the door, presumably to put on his shoes. Mary didn't budge an inch, staring steadfastly at the wall. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry. "I'll be back. I promise." She then heard the door open and close.

It took another five minutes before Mary felt she had suitably mastered her emotions. She walked into the living room, where George and Sybbie were rewatching Frozen 2 for the umpteenth time and sat beside them. She hoped they hadn't heard them in the kitchen; they had tried to shield them away from any disagreements between them. When Sybbie asked where Tom was, Mary was pleased to levelly report that he was out for a drive. "He'll be back in a while," she told her, eyes pointed up at the television, but not registering anything that was going on.

But when Tom wasn't back in half an hour, Mary found she couldn't put on a show anymore, not even for the children. Her thoughts were consumed solely with worst case scenarios, such as Tom arriving home with his mind made up that he and Sybbie were leaving, that he wanted nothing to do with her... or, an even worse case scenario, that he was currently in a wreck somewhere, much like Matthew.

"I'm going to bed early," she told George and Sybbie, momentarily distracting them from their movie. With their eyes on her, there was an even greater effort to pretend all was well and that she was completely at ease. "If your dad isn't back by the time the movie's over, you need to put yourselves to bed, alright?"

George and Sybbie agreed, exchanging their good nights with her. They took her mind off of things, but only briefly. Her worries and fears returned the moment she began climbing the steps.

She didn't even bother to change once she reached her bedroom. Mary simply curled up in her bed, exhausted and terrified. She felt sick to her stomach...

It didn't take too long for the tears to start falling, the dam she had hastily constructed in the kitchen failing once she knew there was no one around to judge her or worry about her. Her hand came to rest on her stomach. What was she going to do, if Tom decided he didn't want them anymore, either? It was an unlikely outcome, she would admit, but she wasn't sure if she could handle raising three children on her own... And what if she never saw Sybbie ever again? Another choked sob escaped her.

About ten minutes passed before suddenly Mary's phone screen lit up. There was an incoming phone call from Tom... As frightened as she was, she answered. "Hello?"

"Hi."

He said nothing else, so she asked, "Where are you?" She cringed when she realized how obvious it was that she had been crying.

"I'm parked outside your office." There was a pause before he said, "I was just calling to let you know I'll be home soon... and so I could hear your voice." Mary was far too sensible and far too afraid to let herself be carried away by romantic notions of what he might mean by that. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," she repeated with some irritation now.

"Well, I'll be home soon."

"Alright."

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered back, wondering why he was doing this, what purpose it served. When they finally hung up, Mary laid back down on her pillow.

It seemed like hours passed before Mary heard the bedroom door creak open. "Hey," Tom whispered, walking into the room. He sat on the edge of her bed.

"Hey." Mary sat up, relieved he hadn't turned on any of the lights... just as Tom turned on his lamp. She winced, squinting.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I just... Well, I think it's best we..." He stopped, sighing and running his hand through his hair. "I'm no good at this."

Mary didn't ask what he meant, too afraid of the answer. He sighed yet again before reaching for her hand. "When... when you said that you have feelings for me... How serious were you?"

Mary furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... Like, how long have you felt this way?"

Mary swallowed. "It's hard to say... but I've known since we... since we kissed at Christmas."

Tom nodded, then took one of her hands in between his. He wasn't looking at her, though, which made her worry. Was he about to deal the fatal blow?

"I texted Lucy. I told her I wasn't interested." His thumb ran over her knuckles, a gentle sensation that contrasted greatly with her tended muscles and accelerated heart rate. "You were right. I should wait to tell Mam and Kieran first before telling just anybody." He continued gazing down at her hand, a long silence before he said, "For what it's worth, even if I had told her and she was willing to overlook it, I wouldn't have gotten back together with her."

Mary didn't know what to make of this... and if it. He seemed to be simply voicing his stream of consciousness but she began wondering if he was just stalling, to put off the inevitable and avoid hurting her. She had a feeling if their positions were reversed, she would do the same.

Well, she had felt enough of that. She had tortured herself all evening and for the past few weeks. Surely it would be better to rip the plaster off now instead of prolonging this attempt at kindness that would only hurt. "Tom," she finally said, "It's alright. I know that— I know you don't feel as I do. There's no need to drag this out."

There was silence. Mary stared down at their hands, still linked together. She moved to pull her hand away, only for Tom to hold on tighter. When she looked up, she met his gaze, his blue eyes burning into her own. "Mary," he whispered before leaning forward. Mary felt his lips press against hers before letting her eyes fall shut.

She didn't quite know how to feel. What was this? Did this mean he really did feel the same? Or was it his way of showing her one last kindness before saying goodbye? Nevertheless, whatever it was, Mary savored it, clinging to the front of his shirt and pouring everything into it.

They parted after some minutes, panting. Tom reached out, stroking her cheek with his thumb with a curious expression. For whatever reason, that look prompted a desire for honesty within Mary. "I love you," she finally said aloud, afraid to watch yet also too frightened to blink for one second. Who knew how much longer he would be here? She needed to soak him in as long as he was here. "Not just as a friend," she clarified as well, recalling the confusion during his half hearted proposal.

Tom's mouth fell open in what seemed to be surprise but he didn't look angry, which was a relief. Several agonizing seconds passed in silence before Tom leaned forward again, kissing her forehead and pulling her closer to him.

"I can't say it back," he whispered, and Mary took in a sharp breath. The sting was quickly alleviated by a, "Not yet, anyway." She felt his hand move up her back, to her hair, where his fingers began playing nervously with the ends. "But I do care about you. I have feeling for you. And not just as a friend," he added, echoing her words.

Mary pulled away ever so slightly, meeting his eye. "You do?" She hadn't allowed herself to even imagine he felt anything close to the same way.

"I do," He said, lips brushing the top of her head. "And I have for a while now."

It took a moment before Mary could process that. "How long?" She wondered if it was the same fateful night.

"Longer than I've wanted to admit to myself." That didn't quite answer her question but he followed up with, "I don't really know. It's been awhile. Maybe even the night you broke up with Charles."

Mary frowned, confused. That was so long ago! "What do you mean?"

"When I picked you up at the station," explained Tom, his eyes suddenly far away. Mary quickly realized he was still confused on the timeline... which wasn't any wonder, given the scattered order she had given him. "Just— you were in that red dress and you looked so beautiful."

Beautiful. Maybe it was stupid but her lips quirked up at that. She hadn't felt beautiful that night but knowing he thought she had filled her with a warmth she couldn't describe.

"Even back then?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders, anything but certain. "That's when I started thinking about it. When I started thinking about you differently. And I think part of it was because of what Charles said to you, because then I started overanalyzing everything—"

She couldn't help but laugh. "So," she said, amused, "it was a self fulfilling prophecy on his part, then?"

Tom let out a laugh of his own, though there was a softness in his eyes. "I don't know. I think maybe it was inevitable. Sooner or later..."

"Seems like we picked later," said Mary quietly, a little taken aback by his talk of inevitability, as if it were written in the stars or something equally romantic. Mary was hardly the sentimental type, driven more by pragmatism, but any bruised feelings were softened by his words.

Tom smiled again, wider now. "And then... Well, with Henry... I'd get jealous," he admitted sheepishly.

"What?" Her mouth fell open. "But... you were the one to push me towards him in the first place!"

"I seem to recall having some notion about seeing you happily married would drive away any thoughts like the ones I was entertaining. I certainly hadn't had them when you were married to Matthew." His time was dry, almost as if he was mocking himself. "And I really did think he would make you happy... and that was all I really wanted. To see you happy." His thumb was rubbing her knuckles. "And I thought maybe you wouldn't want me, anyway."

The last part was the most unbelievable to her. "And why ever not?"

"Because of Sybil."

Mary supposed she wasn't too surprised by that. "That's funny. I thought the same about you." She was quiet, contemplating things for a moment before asking, "So it doesn't bother you, then?"

"If it bothered me, I don't think we'd have ever slept together," Tom pointed out with a smile. Mary let out a soft laugh, supposing that made sense. She felt silly now for not thinking of that herself. "It did. A little. At first. And sometimes I wonder..." Tom trailed off, unknowingly raising alarm bells in Mary's mind. "But you understand me better than anyone else, Mary. And I love being around you and the life we have together. If it weren't for you, I honestly don't know where me and Sybbie would be."

Mary didn't quite know what to say. Her eyes had filled with tears despite her best efforts to contain herself. "Oh, Mary, don't cry," Tom said, sounding almost panicked.

She shook her head, blinking rapidly to try and stop them. "Don't worry. This is because I'm happy." She sniffled a little bit before meeting his eyes. "So very happy."

Tom smiled, face lighting up. He leaned forward to kiss her and at once it felt different than any of the many kisses they had already shared. It was slow and sweet, tender and full of emotions they had been holding back. Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

"So," Mary said once they finally parted, a little out of breath, "what are we, then?"

"I think we're past the point of taking things slow," Tom said, which caused Mary to laugh. "But I suppose we ought to try and see what it's like, being together officially... So I would say we're dating."

Mary nodded, butterflies in her stomach. It almost seemed silly, that even now she would be so affected by him, but Mary couldn't help it. She loved him. "I like the sounds of that," she admitted, leaning forward ever so slightly to prompt him into closing that gap again.

The rest of the night was spent laying in one another's arms, talking and exchanging kisses. They discussed almost everything, from moments where they wished they could tell the truth to figuring out what to tell the children.

"I wish I knew how you felt before I told them to build the third room. We won't even need it now," Mary said, in significantly lighter spirits than before and in a good humor to tease him.

"It'll be nice to have a spare. Next time Edith needs to stay the night, I won't have to sleep on the couch," Tom replied, smirking.

"I hope you realize now that you'll never need to sleep on that torture device again," Mary told him, her tone suggesting jest but serious. This was as much his room now as it was hers. Even if they argued, she didn't want him to leave.

Tom smiled. "I don't know. I think it will be inevitable once the twins are here that we'll fall asleep on that couch many more times."

Mary managed to suppress a shudder. She recalled all too well those months of her depression when Tom would be knocking on her bedroom to bring a hungry George in for her to feed. That had been the one part of parenting in that period of time that she had been involved in.

"Well," she said, tilting her head down to look at their intertwined hands. Though it was a commonplace act for them and far from the most intimate touch they'd shared, she felt closer to him now that ever before. "If you do fall asleep out there, it will be your own fault." Then, having learned the power that came with actually voicing what she was thinking, she looked up to meet his eyes again. "You'll always have a place in this bed with me."

Tom's gaze softened even more, lips parting. "Even if we fight?"

"Even then."

He ducked his head down. "I thought you were trying to get rid of me."

"What? Why would you think that?"

"Because of the third bedroom. I thought you made up your mind. That you wanted things to go back to the way they were before."

She shook her head. "I only did that because I thought you didn't want to stay in here."

In spite of everything, Tom let out a loud laugh. Mary was quite confident George and Sybbie could hear it downstairs. "God, we've been stupid, haven't we?"

"All I'll admit to is that if we had just opened our mouths and talked to one another, we could have saved ourselves quite a bit of money," said Mary, thinking of that third bedroom.

"It'll be alright," said Tom, resting his chin on her shoulder, scooting closer to her. "My Mam can use it when she comes over. It might be simpler to invite her here after everything is over. Can you imagine traveling with four children?"

"God," breathed Mary at the thought and they both laughed.

It wasn't all light conversation full of laughs. They discussed the serious things, too.

"It wasn't that I didn't like her," Tom admitted in reference to Lucy. Mary mentally told herself not to be jealous— after all, he was laying with her in bed— but it was hard to listen to her boyfriend (the word thrilled her more than it ought to) talk about another woman. "But I think I what it really was is I was trying to distract myself from you."

Distract himself from her. Not from Sybil, but from her. Heading that startled her, but in a good way. However, it brought forth more questions than answers. "Have things changed for you, then?" she asked. When Tom gave her a strange look, Mary hurriedly explained, "It's just— Well, when you—" She was reluctant to bring up the botched proposal. "You just always said you weren't ready to move on. From Sybil." Mary wasn't sure if she could stand the thought of him changing his mind.

Tom waited before answering. Mary was practically dying from the suspense when he finally said, "I'll always love her. She was the first person I loved. I was going to marry her. But that doesn't change how I feel about you." She watched his Adam's apple Bob in his throat. "And when I said all those things to you about not being able to ever move on from her, I didn't imagine I could ever feel the way I do with you."

Those words filled her with immense relief and happiness. It wasn't a sweeping declaration of love nor some promise that they would be together forever, but it was enough for her right now. Still he continued, "I know I've not done a good job showing you how much you mean to me... and I know I've hurt you." It was now he reached up, hand cradling her jaw. She felt like she couldn't breathe as he bestowed her with an especially tender look, his thumb brushing across her lips. "And I'll do everything in my power not to do it ever again."

Ever. That word suggested a sort of finality. Mary met his gaze, speechless. Her grip on his hand tightened before they leaned in to share yet another kiss, as if to seal the promise.


The following day, Mary felt more nervous than ever. She kept checking her appearance in the mirror, even after Tom insisted she looked beautiful... which, admittedly, was part of the reason she kept double checking, just to hear him say those words again.

"Don't be nervous," he assured her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and rubbing her arm as they readied themself for the Zoom call with Niamh and Kieran.

It was easier said than done, but Mary couldn't resist smiling when, upon saying hello to his mother and brother, Tom said, "This is my girlfriend, Mary."