Tying Up Loose Ends

Featuring: Amelia, Robert Cook, and Sherlock.

She could still feel the sensation on her lips, feel the way that his hair had felt twisting between her fingers, the way he had held her so tightly against his chest that it should have felt suffocating, but it wasn't. Her heart had pounded in her chest and she had felt dizzy, but she hadn't wanted to stop, not for a second, ignoring the burning of her lungs and the struggle to not pull away…

Amelia woke with a start, her eyes snapping open before she quickly closed them again, wincing as the light above her head hit her directly in the face, blinding her tired eyes. She slowly opened her eyes and sat up in her seat, feeling her cheeks burning from the embarrassment of dropping off to sleep like that on the train and the memory of what she had been dreaming about before, which had been terribly vivid, as though it had been real…well, mostly real, she supposed. It had been less then twelve hours since she and Sherlock had decided to actually try to take their relationship to the next level. She wasn't sure if they would be able to do it without killing one another, they surely had to be insane to even be considering it, given that they worked together and so far that had worked out pretty well, why complicate matters by dating? But she couldn't stop the way she felt about him, as much as she hated it because it made her feel like she was a teenager all over again.

She wondered briefly what Sherlock's thoughts were on it all, after everything that had happened the night before with Sherlock actually wanting them to try and be more then friends, she had felt so awkward and unsure of exactly what to do or say, she had ended up making the excuse of still needing to pack to escape back upstairs to her new bedroom. She had seen him only briefly before leaving to catch her early train that morning, he usually slept later then her, unless they had a case, but this time he had apparently made a bit of an effort and gotten up in time to see her off, though it was still rather awkward. They hadn't kissed or hugged, as one might expect for two people who were dating, he had wished her a safe train ride and offered to help her get her luggage into the back of the cab. Not that she had really expected for more of a send off, she probably wouldn't have known how to react if he had tried to kiss her goodbye or something like that, it felt to…domestic for Sherlock, to ordinary.

She did, however, wonder if she ought to have asked him to come with her to York, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind then she dismissed it. This was her journey that she had to take, she needed to tie up some loose ends, after all, she had spent two years living in the tight-knit village and come to know pretty much everyone who lived in the area, she had made friends with people during those years of being Jessica Holmes and now she needed to try and make amends. She was dreading it, really, but she knew it had to be done. They deserved that much from her.

Amelia looked out across to the window running along side of the train, fields passing by the window as they moved through the British countryside. They would be arriving at her stop soon and she would have to freshen herself up once she got there, she rather hoped her short nap hadn't caused her eyeliner to smudge to badly, she supposed the good thing about being away from London was the fact that she was also escaping the press that had been following them around ever since she and Holmes had held the official press conference to announce that they truly were still alive. Thinking about it, her eyes came to land on the folded up newspaper that she had grabbed before boarding the train that morning, sighing to herself as she grabbed it and flattened it out on the table, her own face splashed across the front page with Sherlock standing beside her, John standing on his other side, but the picture was mostly focused on herself and Sherlock, capturing the two of them mid-glance with one another. They seriously did need to be more careful about how they looked at one another in future, no wonder the media loved to make such a fuss over the two of them being involved, even when they hadn't been.

Unable to stomach seeing her own picture splashed across the front page any longer, she folded it back up and placed the paper back down on the other side, grabbing her phone out of her handbag beside her instead, pleased with the distraction of online clothing shopping, at least the fashion websites were safe.

…

An hour and a half later, Amelia had left her train and collected her hire car, driving the rest of the short distance from the station to the village that she had spent the past few years hiding away in. She soon arrived at the cottage and settled in as if she had never left, but somehow it all did feel different. Everything was exactly as she had left it the morning that Mycroft had sent the helicopter to take her to London, but there was a different sensation in the air, like she didn't quite belong in it. She felt like she was intruding upon someone else's space, which was totally absurd, since it had been her home for two years, but it hadn't been, had it? Not really, because all of this had been Jessica Holmes's, from the collection of simple, cheap pencil skirts and blouses in the wardrobe upstairs to the comfortable sofa in the living room that still had the coffee stain on the back of one of the cushions after she had sneezed, rather unfortunately, with an overly full cup in hand one morning. All of it had been someone else's, not hers, not Amelia Wilson, who probably owned shoes that cost more than Jessica's entire wardrobe would cost priced together. It was so odd, looking around and feeling caught between feeling home and alien.

She settled her bags down in the small entrance and looked around, wondering what to do with everything. She had already decided to rent out the cottage, since Mycroft had bought it under Jessica's Holmes's name, which was currently in the process of being legally changed over to her name, though all of that would probably take a little while. Legal matters did tend to drag on, though she hoped that Mycroft might speed things up, if she was extra nice to him the next time she saw him and maybe baking him a cake would also help, she'd have to ask Sherlock about it when she got back to London. But until then, she thought it would be best to pack everything up and place it all in storage, she could then hire someone local to come by every few days to check on the place when she was in London, just until the pesky legal matters were resolved, anyway.

She had just began to pull her coat off to hang it up on the hooks by the door, when her phone dinged, singling she had a message. She fished it out of her handbag and rolled her eyes at the message flashing across the screen:

Need milk, S.H.

"Honestly, Sherlock…" she muttered to herself in exasperation, quickly texting back to get it himself. She had barely finished sending the message before he replied back, obviously having been waiting.

Oh, and we need more teabags and bread, S.H.

She rolled her eyes, texting back: I'm in Yorkshire, do your own shopping.

His reply followed almost instantly: Never mind, Mrs Hudson is going out, S.H.

Amelia sighed loudly and shook her head, slipping her phone away in her pocket. Was it a good sign that she already felt the urge to whack him over the head less then twelve hours into their romantic relationship? Probably not, but at least she didn't have to worry about getting milk when she got back.

….

The next day, Amelia dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black button up blouse that had tiny sequins stitched into the collar, tucking the shirt into her jeans. She had tried to tone down her usually more expensive tastes to something better suited to the countryside, but after years of having a rather selective wardrobe to choose from, she felt like a kid in a candy shop every time she opened her own wardrobe back in London, filled with an array of designer clothing that she had positively dreamed about during her years away. She simply hadn't been able to stop herself from dressing up more so then she probably ought to have, but then again, it wouldn't be her if she didn't dress up and wear totally impractical heeled ankle boots.

Of course, she had more important matters to deal with then what outfit she wore, she had people to see and her first destination was the school she had worked at her. She managed to avoid seeing any of the other teachers, arriving just after the morning bell had gone, though it had still been terribly awkward to meet with the headmaster and formally give her resignation. The looks she had received from the office staff had made her cringe, but she was pleased to manage to get in and out as quickly as possible without really speaking to anyone, she couldn't imagine what the headmaster must have thought to learn that she wasn't even, technically, a teacher at all. In her defence, she had played the role brilliantly and she had taught the kids a lot about music, though she just didn't have the university degree to go along with being a teacher, so there was that…she half expected to end up getting arrested, anyone else probably would. She so owed Mycroft that cake.

After the school, she quickly made her rounds around the rest of the village, mindful to avoid the vet clinic at the end of the village and instead focusing on the few shops and local pub. She hadn't made many friends, she only really had one, but she had come to know pretty much everyone very well. The shocked and angry look's that she got from people was horrible, but she kept her head high, having been expecting the reaction. She was quite shocked, however, when a few people that she ran into actually didn't seem to be overly upset, more excited than anything to learn that they had a celebrity living amongst them for all this time, though Amelia would hardly consider herself to be a celebrity, she had been grateful to know that she wasn't completely hated by everyone.

Of course, by the time that the afternoon had rolled around, Amelia hadn't been able to find any other reason for avoiding the one person who deserved her apology most of all. She had stayed up half the night thinking of what to say and wondering how he might react, but she knew it wouldn't be good. She wondered again, as she began to approach the painted red door of his cottage, her heels crunching in the gravel and very nearly unbalancing her a few times, if she should have asked Sherlock to come with her after all. It was cowardly, perhaps, but she was scared of how he might react, he was her friend, after all, and she knew that this news would upset him most of all, not just because of the friendship but because of his feelings for her. She couldn't help feeling grateful that the press didn't know that she and Sherlock really were dating now, that would make things even worse.

She stopped outside the door, her bright pink clutch beneath her arm, staring at the door, her heart pounding and a sickening feeling sweeping through her stomach. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands together, her French manicured nails digging into the flesh of her palms until it actually began to hurt and she forced her hands to relax. Would he slam the door in her face? Would he shout at her? Would he demand that she leave his doorstep and never return? The thoughts rushed through her mind as she reached up to grasp the door knocker, knocking it three times against the door before she could lose her nerve completely, the sound far too loud in her ears.

The wait for him to open the door felt like forever, the light breeze in the air gently tugging at her black trench coat and her mostly down hair, but then the doorhandle was twisting and she struggled to compose her expression before the door swung open and he stepped into view, staring back at her with startled brown eyes, shock crossing his face before it swiftly faded. Neither spoke, simply looking at one another, and Amelia could practically feel his eyes taking in everything about her, from her brown hair to her heeled boots that Jessica Holmes would never have worn, more of a flats girl.

"So…" Amelia said awkwardly after the silence became unbearable, shifting beneath his gaze, but it was nothing compared to how Sherlock was able to look almost straight through people. She cleared her throat, glancing down, "I'm guessing you've seen the news?"

Robert crossed his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes, "Yeah, imagine my surprise to see you on it…" he said mockingly, his eyes icy, but Amelia refused to flinch, meeting his eyes firmly, "I didn't even recognise you at first, then I figured I must just be seeing things, since there was no way that Jessica, my Jess, would actually be some supposedly dead detective. But no…" he shook his head, uncrossing his arms to wave his hand at her, "Here you are, proof".

Amelia sighed, biting her lip nervously, "Would you mind if we did this inside?" she asked hopefully, really not wishing to have to do this on his doorstep, almost in the middle of the village.

"I don't even know who you are, why would I invite you into my home?"

"Because…because you deserve a proper explanation, not just something you've read in the paper or online".

He considered it for a moment, she could read it on his face, Robert had always been so easy to read. After a few seconds, he released a breath and stepped aside from the door, allowing her to pass over the threshold and into the long entrance hall, which had a staircase leading up to the upper floors and two doors, one leading to the back of the cottage and into the kitchen, she knew, while the second door that branched off at the base of the staircase lead into the cosy living room. Robert led her into the sitting room and carelessly moved to sit on an armchair positioned so it was sitting on an angle towards the small TV unit in the corner of the room, while a sofa was pushed up against one wall and a wooden coffee table littered with newspapers and a open laptop was in the middle of the room, closing to the armchair then it usually was, from Amelia's memory.

As she moved to sit on the couch, she managed to catch a look of the computer screen, wincing at an image of herself, Sherlock, and John that was enlarged on the screen, taken from back when they first became famous. It was one of the pictures the press had used to first bring to light the possibility of her and Sherlock dating, with a large red circle crudely drawn around Amelia's hand on Sherlock's arm, though the press weren't to know that she had actually been trying to keep him still for the picture. God, she hated all of those pictures, they were so embarrassing and completely untrue, she still hadn't forgiven Lestrade for his little prank with the scarf and love heart badge from years ago.

"I see you've been doing your homework," Amelia sighed, settling awkwardly onto the edge of the couch cushions, gripping her knees, more to try and stop herself from tapping her feet against the floor, as she was prone to do when uncomfortable.

Robert glanced at the screen and reached out to close the laptops lid, before falling back against his seat, crossing his arms almost protectively against his chest, "Figured I should find out who you actually are," he said coolly, "Apparently, I'm one of the only people in Britain who had never heard of you and that hat guy…"

Amelia struggled to hold back a laugh, settling for a strained smile, "Sherlock hate's that hat," she remarked lightly, picturing Sherlock's grimace right now.

"Well, you certainly seem to like his scarf…" she winced ay that, the bitter edge in his tone, mixed with a hint of accusing.

"Not exactly by choice," she told him, reaching up to rub her forehead, already feeling a dull ache start building in her left temple. It would be rather difficult to try and explain the reason for the whole scarf thing, made all the more harder when she could tell that Robert really wasn't interested in hearing all about the back-story or her reasoning's for why she was photographed wearing Sherlock's scarf so frequently by the press. She cast her eyes over the papers littering the coffee table again, releasing a long sigh, "You really shouldn't take anything the press claims to be true, half the stories are made up or twisted in some way".

"Including John Watson's blog?"

"John's…a romantic," she said, sounding far more lame then she had intended. It had sounded good in her head, even if she didn't exactly believe it herself, knowing perfectly well that John's blog was written quite realistically, sticking to the facts of what actually happened and what John experienced, rather than falling into the trap of embellishing things to make them more interesting to the public, even if some cases probably did sound farfetched.

Robert raised his eyebrows at her, clearly not buying it, "He's a solider".

"And he also has terrible taste in jumpers, my point is…" she paused, taking a deep breath as she forced herself to meet his eyes, "If you want to know about me, about all of this…" she waved her hand towards the papers and magazines on the coffee table, not looking away from him, "Then ask me, don't use a secondary source".

He stared at her for a long moment, tension hanging heavy in the air between them as Amelia waited, wondering what he would actually ask first, "Alright," he eventually nodded, unfolding his arms and draping them on top of his armchairs armrests, "Alright…" he watched her closely for a moment, forcing Amelia to resist against the urge to shift, "First question, you and…" he pulled a face, waving a hand at his closed laptop, "…the hat guy…"

"Sherlock," Amelia corrected him, almost automatically, making him narrow his eyes slightly. She didn't need to hear the end of his question to know what he was asking her, what he wanted to know, "Look, Robert, Sherlock and I work together," she explained carefully, shifting slightly on the edge of the couch, "All that stuff about him and I dating, it was all rubbish. Honestly, back then, we were lucky to even be in the same room as each other without annoying one another in some way".

"Past tense," he frowned, his tone growing sharper.

Of course he had caught that, she had expected him to, he was intelligent and he was emotionally invested in this whole thing, every word she said would be closely analysed. His intelligence was one of the reasons for why they had gotten along so well, why, even though she hadn't allowed herself to develop any true romantic feelings for him, she could imagine that if she had perhaps never meet Sherlock and John, and instead, somehow, had meet Robert, that they might have had a relationship with one another. She wasn't sure if she believed the relationship would have truly lasted, she felt like she was perhaps a little to passionate for someone like Robert to be able to handle in the long run, and she knew already that her love for the city lifestyle she lived and her work would be a big issue for them had anything actually happened between them, but she thought that they probably would have had a nice time together for a year or two. No, friendship was better for them, even if nothing had happened between her and Sherlock, becoming involved romantically with Robert would never have ended well for either of them.

"Yes," Amelia agreed, refusing to allow herself to feel bad right now. She had no reason to feel guilty about being with Sherlock, no reason at all, "Sherlock and I…" she hesitated, searching for a way to put it, "Well…it's very new, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all, if I'm being honest".

"I see," Robert said slowly, his voice and expression carefully void of emotion, but his body language was very telling, his shoulders slumping and his hands briefly gripping the fabric of the armrests, "Why are you even here?" he suddenly frowned, shaking his head as he gave her an almost angry look, "Why come back here just to…" he stopped, looking quickly away from her as his cheeks flushed pink, seeming to feel as though he might have said to much.

"I owed you an explanation in person," she told him calmly, choosing to ignore his near slip, knowing what he was going to say. She would be a poor detective if she was unable to tell that he had fallen for her, but it wasn't her that he had fallen for, it was Jessica Holmes. She was not that woman, aspects of her, perhaps, but at the heart of it Amelia was not Jessica, and Robert would only have been disappointed, "And…" she licked her lips, gripping her thighs tighter as she meet his eyes, "I owe you an apology…."

"An apology?" he cut across her sharply, staring at her in incredulously, "Two years you looked me in the eye, every single day, and continued to lie to me like it was nothing…"

"Nothing?" she couldn't help frowning at him, instantly feeling her annoyance start to rise. She was far from a victim in this whole thing and she took full responsibility for how she made Robert feel, what a terrible friend that she had been to him, but to say that it had been nothing got under her skin. It had hardly been easy for her, living a double life and lying to everyone around her, she hadn't wanted to do any of it, "None of this was 'nothing' to me, this wasn't just some holiday, Robert," she shook her head, still frowning, "I don't take any of this lightly, okay? And I am sorry, for everything, all the lies and deception, but I did it to protect my friends. I will not apologise for that".

Silence settled over the room as Amelia found herself struggling to hold back a glare, desperately trying to remind herself that she probably didn't have any real right to be getting annoyed and snapping at Robert, not when she was in the wrong for this whole mess and the purpose for even speaking to him was to try and apologise. It wasn't exactly working out very well, but she hated the thought that people might actually think that it was easy for her to lie to people, she didn't blame people for thinking that way, given her history, but she didn't want people to think that way about her. It was probably silly, but she had enough of lies, even lies meant for good intentions, such as keeping those closest to her alive.

Robert climbed onto his feet, "It's nice to know you understand the concept of loyalty," he said in a cool, cutting tone that instantly made Amelia wince. He met her eyes, his expression completely blank, closed off, "Even if it apparently didn't extend to me".

She closed her eyes at that, reaching up to rub her forehead as a wave of guilt washed over her. She wished she had just kept her mouth shut now and hadn't allowed her own annoyance to get the better of her, he had a point. She hadn't shown him anything close to loyalty; she had been wrapped up in her own life. She didn't know what she expected, that his feelings for her would be enough to make him completely ignore what she had down to him? No, of course not, but she supposed that the reality of the situation was that she really hadn't considered it to deeply, she had simply been focused on waiting for Sherlock to turn up again so that she could go back to her old life, that had always been her intention, she just hadn't anticipated the fact that she might make a friend in the mean time.

"Robert…" she began, looking back up to him, wondering what she could even possibly say after a response like that.

Robert shook his head, his expression hard as he refused to look directly at her, his eyes on the white wall above the couch behind her head, "I think you should go," he told her, his voice tight, "And…don't bother calling me again".

Amelia snapped her mouth closed and swallowed, hard, feeling a weight drop into her stomach as she forced herself to slowly rise onto her feet, adjusting her coat around her and tucking her clutch beneath her arm, before moving to walk passed him and out of the living room door. She kept her head high as she left the cottage, the stones on the path outside crunching beneath her feet as she continued walking out onto the edge of the road. She hadn't expected them to be friends, but she had hoped that maybe, just maybe, he might have understood a little bit that she had lied to protect her friends and that it hadn't been personal, but she didn't blame him for wanting nothing to do with her. She just felt horribly sad and guilty, and all she wanted to do now was curl up in bed in London, pull the covers over her head and sleep for a week…possibly with some wine being involved, though she wasn't exactly a fan of drinking alone. Today had been a very bad day.

….

The fire crackled in the fireplace grating as Amelia sat curled up in the corner of her couch beneath a large, fluffy, deep blue blanket, already dressed in her pyjamas, even though it wasn't even six yet. She stared into the grating of the fire, watching the flames flicker and twirl around the logs of wood that she had struggled and very nearly broken a nail on to put into the grating in the first place, while a cup of tea sat on the coffee table, instead of the wine she had considered earlier. She felt awful about how everything had turned out between her and Robert, so much so that she had decided that she needed to leave the village as soon as possible, she believed she'd caused him enough pain and rather than possibly prologue it by running into him in the local shop or something, better she go. This was his home and she had no right to remain, not when her place was London, Baker Street now.

She sighed and pulled her eyes off the flames, instead wrapping the blanket tighter around her as she leaned towards the coffee table to grab her phone off the table, still so new after she was forced to replace her old one after the whole bonfire incident and losing her old one, her new one was still a slight adjustment. She hadn't even had the chance to custom everyone's ringtone yet, she was considering using 'Titanium' by David Guetta for John and 'Get Lucky' by Daft Punk for Sherlock, though it was hardly relevant at this point, she supposed she was probably just trying to find ways to cheer herself up and she did always find it rather amusing to custom ringtones for her friends.

She unlocked her phone, entering her pass code, four-five-seven-nine, not caring if using her own birth date was probably a stupid idea, she'd change it later, not that she had anything to hide. Her thumb hovered over the touch screen over Sherlock's name in her contact list, considering whether or not she should call him, before deciding that yes, she'd had a rubbish day and she really could use hearing a friendly voice for once, so she hit the tiny green phone beside his number and lifted the phone up to her ear, listening to the dial tone start. It barely gave two rings before he answered.

"Amelia," Sherlock's voice came over the sound, not bothering to say 'hello,' of course, like a normal person might.

"Hi," Amelia said, trying hard to sound a bit more cheerful, "So…uh, I was just calling to let you know I'll be back tomorrow afternoon," she told him, pulling herself into a sitting position and propping her feet up on top of the coffee table, mindful to avid accidently knocking her teacup, "I've decided to get the early train in the morning, I'll organise for someone to handle all the packing and storing of everything up here when I get back to London".

"I see. I take it things did not go well with Cook?"

"What makes you ask?"

"You're calling to inform me of something you ordinarily would text me about, if you even felt the need to tell me at all".

She shifted slightly, frowning at the drawn curtains directly ahead of her, wishing he really wasn't as observant as he was right now, "Perhaps I just wished to hear the sound f your voice," she replied, unable to help the hint of annoyance that laced her tone that he had seen through her so easily.

Sherlock scoffed on the other end, "Not even you are that grossly sentimental, Amelia".

"Fine," she huffed, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the top of her couch cushions, "Today, with Robert, was a complete disaster," she opened her eyes, looking sadly up at the large, stained beam above her head, "He never wants to see or speak to me again, not that I blame him, of course, but…" she sighed loudly, wondering if she possibly should have called Molly instead of Sherlock, who probably could care less about any of this right now, "Well, I guess I really had no right to expect anything else".

There was a long pause, so long that Amelia actually had to check her phone screen to make sure that she hadn't lost the connection, when he finally said something, "And you feel…guilty?" he asked, sounding terribly unsure and bored.

Yep, so should have called Molly.

"Yes, Sherlock," she sighed, though she did feel pleased that he was making an effort when he was so clearly completely unsure about what to do. He was out of depth and, she imagined, probably not in the slightest bit concerned by any of it, but he was trying, lamely, but none the less trying.

"Right," he said slowly, another long pause of silence following, while Amelia waited, curious to hear if he might have anything else to say, "Are you…okay?" he questioned, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

Amelia almost laughed, picturing his probably grimacing expression right now while he internally struggled to figure out what to say or do, "I'm a little sad that it turned out this way," she told him, deciding that she was going to save him, though she was rather impressed and surprised by his attempt to be caring and, well, almost boyfriend-like, "But it's alright," she assured him lightly, smiling sadly, "Robert wasn't really my friend, after all, he was Jessica's. I'm not her".

"No, that blonde hair and practical shoes certainly didn't suit you".

That time she did laugh, smiling widely as she shook her head in amusement as her giggles died down, picturing his smirk right now, "I certainly don't miss any of that, I agree," she absently plucked a strand of brown hair up, curling it around her finger as she looked at it, delighted to have her natural hair colour back and not needing to fuss over regrowth and dye again, she had enough of that during her uni and teen years. She felt so much lighter now, still sad but lighter now that she had spoken to Sherlock, something she probably wouldn't have really expected two years ago to feel, or to even imagine that speaking to him might actually cheer her up, but it had. Just one simple teasing remark had been enough. She sank deeper into her blanket and cushions, smiling to herself still, "So, did you miss me, Holmes?"

Sherlock sighed loudly in a mix of exasperation and almost fondness, though she wasn't completely sure of that, not without seeing his expression, "I can't say I've missed sharing a bathroom with you," he said, "Why you feel the need to take thirty minutes to get ready…"

"Oh, shut up, Holmes," she rolled her eyes, smirking to herself. She couldn't wait to get back to Baker Street, back to where she belonged.

So how many of you thought I'd forgotten all about this story? I hadn't, I assure you, I simply have been so busy and the original one-shot I had began writing just didn't feel right when I was writing it, I felt like I was forcing myself when I really wanted to write this instead, so that's what I did. I began writing this and it kind of just happened from there. By the way, this is the first time we've actually got a mention of Amelia's birthday, I've so wanted to mention it before, but just couldn't find a way, so here it is May 4th, 1979 is her birthday, I picked the 4th because in the novels, that was the date that Professor Moriarty dies, so I figured it would be a nice tie back to the novels.

Oh, by the way, Amelia's outfit can be found on my Tumblr, Shoplook, and Pinterest page :)

I really wanted to make sure that I went back and tied up the loose end of Robert Cook, he truly did have real feelings for Amelia during those two years and I feel so sorry for him, he fell for the wrong woman at the wrong time. If only he had meet Amelia before, but then again, I personally feel like Amelia would have been too much for him to handle, I kind of picture Robert as being the type of guy to be happy to live in the country, away from the excessive lifestyle that Amelia enjoys, he'd probably have a stroke if he was dating Amelia and she bought a pair of shoes costing over a thousand pounds. No, I think Amelia is much better off with someone who teases her for her excessive shopping habits, rather than judge.

I hope you guys liked it, tell me what you thought. Please review :)