A/N: Thank you everyone for being so patient! And so, so sorry about the confusion last night with this chapter. I updated and then WP was being an ass, so I ended up deleting the chapter.  Thanks for sticking with me.  Life is insane right now.  I appreciate all your comments, likes, and the fact that you take time to read!

“Charlotte!” I hear my mother’s voice as soon as I step foot past the gate at BWI.  “Charlotte! Over here, over here!” I look up, my vision blurry from what I can only guess is the fever that has set in.  Back in Baltimore—back to real life.  There’s no more posh English flat.  There’s no more adorable, infuriating English potatoes.  It’s just me and my mother in the small town that has become my life.  That perhaps has always been my life.

“Hi Mom.” I mumble, shuffle forward and drop my bag on the tile.  Mom frowns at me, crossing her thin arms over her matching pants suit.  Again, I’m pretty sure it’s in the high nineties outside, and the woman is wearing linen that still looks perfectly pressed.

“You don’t look well at all.  Are you sick? You look terrible.” She puts a cold, papery hand to my forehead and then she hisses softly, as if I’ve burned her.  I have many sins, and she is excellent at judging, so maybe I have.

“I think I am sick.  And thanks.” I sigh.  She picks up my bag, which is also surprising and grabs me daintily by the sleeve of my sweatshirt.  I’m shivering and sweating all at the same time.  I feel like patient zero.

“Where’s Tom? Why isn’t he with you?” She asks the million dollar question as she tugs me along, directing me through the rather crowded airport.  We weave through people and the motion along with Mom’s questioning makes me feel like yakking.  I press my lips together, and then pull a pair of sunglasses out of my bag, slipping them onto my face.  I yank my hood up, and do my best retreating turtle impression.

“Tom’s in Los Angeles.” I say softly.

“What?! I didn’t hear you.  Don’t mumble, Charlotte.” Mom groans over her shoulder.  I feel a wave of nausea sweep over me, and my mouth waters slightly. 

“Oh, frosted flakes.” I scan the airport, looking for a bathroom.  There’s never a bathroom when you need one.  I flash backwards to the night Tom got drunk and yakked all over the bushes outside the cottage.

“Charlotte?” Mom turns around, realizing that I’ve stopped walking.  I search desperately for a bathroom, but as I feel my stomach lurch, I have to settle for a trashcan.  Trashcan, bushes, same difference.  I run forward, barely making it to the big, round receptacle before throwing up.  Better here than on airplane.  I guess.  I’m not really sure how things could get much worse, but then as I start hurling some more, Mom walks up behind me, sweeps my hair back and keeps fussing over me loudly.

“Charlotte! You’re sick!” She exclaims.  “Where’s Tom?!”

****

“If you die, can I have Tiny Baker? I’ll take care of it.  I’ll just rename it Mandy’s Muffin Tops.” Mandy is washing dishes, while I am lying on the couch, covered in about 4 layers of blankets.  It’s been two days since the airport ralphing incident, and though I’m through the brunt of the storm, I’m still in the dwindling stages of what must be some sort of prehistoric plague.

“No. If I die, I will just haunt the bakery and it’ll be like I never left.” I moan, rolling onto my side.  There is some terrible reality tv show on, and I’m watching two women fight over what looks like a pop tart. This is what my life has come down to. 

“Hmm…okay. I guess that works.  Do you need anything?” She pops her head out of the kitchen, and I shake my head quickly.

“Thank you for coming over.  You didn’t have to.  My mom has already been here twice.” I say.  I try to burrow further into the couch, but I’m already wedged in between the back cushion and the seat pretty nicely.  She’s been in twice to drop off food and continue the “Thomas Inquisition.”  If Mandy hadn’t shown up when she did, I’m pretty sure my mother was going to start waterboarding me.

“I see that.  I can’t believe she bought you all this furniture while you were gone.  It’s amazing.  The woman hasn’t changed a thing at the Smokey Oyster in decades, and yet she comes in here and surprises you with all this stuff.” Mandy opens her arms like a game show host, revealing amazing, mind blowing prizes.  Like mini vans!  But what she says is sort of true.  It is mind blowing that my mother was so kind and generous.

On the ride home from the airport, I only had to stop once to throw up on the side of the highway.  She kept grilling me about Tom, and it made me feel worse.  I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth.  I’m not sure she would have believed me anyway.  Tom is like some golden, fluffy little puppy to her.

When we got to the hobbit hole, I was ready to pass out and sleep for days.   Barfing in public takes a lot out of you. I nearly fainted when I opened to the door, and found how busy she had been while I’d been away.  There was a big, plush area rug in the main room, covering the worn wood.  A wide, comfy couch sat welcoming across from the fireplace.  A few paintings were on the otherwise boring, bare walls.  Most of them were prints by Wayne Thiebaud, one of my favorite artists.  He does colorful, offbeat paintings of cakes and pastries.  I’m so predictable. 

There’s a real, actual wood table in the corner where the little folding table used to be.  And in the kitchen, there’s a wooden butcher block island and little rugs in front of the sink and back door.  I could not be more surprised if I’d shown up and the whole house had been burned to the ground.

When I got over the initial shock, I’d simply hugged my mother.  She hugged me back.

“I hope it’s somewhere you’d think about visiting more often.” She had said, and I swear, I choked back tears that had nothing to do with how sick and jetlagged I felt.

 “She wants me to stay here.” I say softly to Mandy, my voice scratchy and rough.  Mandy nods.

“We all do, duh.” She grins and flips her hair over her shoulder.  Even though she’s just come over to keep me company, and bring me chicken soup, she’s dressed to the nines in some floofy bright pink sun dress, complete with these ballerina flats that wrap up her leg.

“I already told you I was going to split my time between here and LA.  I’ll be here for the majority of the year.” I say.  The truth is, I don’t want to go back to LA.  Everything there reminds me of Tom and Keegan.  It’s so deeply ingrained at this point, that I don’t think that city will ever be the same to me.  LA was once full of possibility and hope, and now it makes me feel claustrophobic and worn down.

“I’m super excited.” Mandy grins and plops down on the floor by the sofa.  She grabs the television remote and puts it on mute.  Thank muffins, I wasn’t sure I could take another minute of the squabbling.

“I’ll be back at the bakery tomorrow morning.  I’m so behind for the Summer Celebration.” I now have two less days to get things together, combined with one less person helping (Tom or he-who-shall-not-be-named) and I’m only sort of freaking out completely.

“Are you well enough?” Mandy frowns and tilts her head.  I shrug.

“I guess I need to be.”

“Charlie…” Her voice wavers, and is about an octave higher than normal.  I know what’s coming.

“What.”

“Charlieee…where is Tom?” She grins, baring all her teeth and looking ridiculously awkward and a tiny bit scared.  I haven’t told her where Tom is.  I haven’t explained anything to her or anyone for that matter.  But she knows something has happened. I chew on my lip for a minute.

“Tom’s in Los Angeles.”

“Okay…”  She waits patiently.  She can be a very patient person.

“Probably at this very moment, sucking Keegan’s face off and trying to heel all her broken bones like some sort of…Disney movie prince.” I frown and then clink my teeth together a few times.  I’m pretty sure there was never any bone-healing in Disney movies, but in this messed up version, that seems to be all there is.  Mandy narrows her eyes, and purses her lips.

“What…but…” She grimaces. “Just last week he was sucking your face off and trying to heel all your broken bits and pieces.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and her words sort of poke holes straight into my soul.  Ouch.  It must show on my face, because immediately she’s apologizing and scooting over on her butt to hug me. 

I would cry if I were a crier, but I’m not.  I’m a desert inside. Hot and dusty and barren.  With Tom shaped tumbleweeds rolling down the dirt roads.  That jerk. That tumbleweed jerk.

“I think he wants her back.  I think I was just a rebound.  I think I love him a lot, but I don’t think I have what he’s looking for.  I can’t give him what he needs.  What he deserves.” I say the words out loud, quick and blurred together.  I say them to Mandy, because I have no one else to say them too.  And this makes me sad.  Infinitely sad.  Not that Mandy isn’t an awesome friend, but part of me worries that she may just think of me as her crazy, sad boss.

“Charlie, you’re crazy.  And sad.” She shakes her head, and I nearly choke. 

“Thanks.”

“No.  What I mean is…do you think Keegan is what he deserves?!  You think he’s better off with her?! I mean we both know you’re a little…messed up, and have a crazy family and a terrible past that wasn’t your fault, but really? Keegan?” She throws her hands up, and then punches me in the arm.  Ow.

“He wants marriage.  Tom’s all traditional and chivalrous and…” I trail off.  And I haven’t heard from him since he left. 

“Charlie…” Mandy sighs.

“He’s known I don’t want to get married.  He’s known this since day one.  It’s…” I pause and then push forward.  “It’s a little disappointing that he thinks now that I’m suddenly going to be able to change.” I sigh softly.  Mandy nods.

“That’s understandable.” She leans against the sofa.  “But maybe you need to give him a chance.  Maybe he’s challenging that because he never thought it would be a question that you and him would have to answer.  As a pair.” She leans her head against cushion.

“We’re not a pair, Mandy.” I hear my voice waver.  She turns her head slightly, looking at me upside down.

“I sort of feel like you’ve been a pair for quite some time.” She says softly.

“No.” I blink.

“Why not?”

“He hasn’t called me or texted me since he left.” I shrug. 

“It takes two to tango, Charles.” She says gently.  My eyes water, and I hold my breath for a second.

“What do I say to him, Mandy?” My voice is small, unsure.  “He’s with her.”

“Start with…’I love you, you ass.  Get the fork out of California.’ And then see how it goes from there.” Mandy pulls back and smiles. I roll my eyes and push her hard on the shoulder. 

“You’re a really big help.” I laugh.  She grabs my phone off the end table, and throws it onto my stomach.

“I’m going home.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  Call him.” She gets up off the floor and starts gathering her things.  I watch her, feeling my phone sitting like some sort of rock on my stomach.  I notice that my notification light is blinking, alerting me to a text message or a missed call.  I manage to ignore it long enough to say goodbye to Mandy, but as soon as she’s out the door, I am embarrassed to say I lunge for my phone.

Are you awake?

He had texted me half an hour ago.  I swallow hard and press his message, which brings up his number.  My finger hovers for a second, before I press and let my phone connect.  It rings three times.

“Charlie.” His voice is strangely clear, and it sounds as if he is sitting right next to me, speaking into my ear.  It takes me back for a half second.  I miss him so much, and it’s hardly been any time.  But I feel it, physically, in my bones and flesh.

“Hi.” I manage.

“I’m so, so sorry, sweet.  I’ve been swamped, and then totally knackered by the time I’ve gotten home the last few days. I had an accidental lie-in until nearly noon—“ He apologizes, and he is so sincere, as he always is, that my resolve crumbles almost immediately.  I close my eyes as I speak.

“It’s fine.” My heart is pounding.

“How are you?  How are the sandwiches?” He asks.  I’m making fresh berry and sweet cream ice cream sandwiches for the Summer Celebration.  It had partially been his idea.

“I, um, haven’t gotten much done yet.” I say.  My voice is rough, and an octave or two deeper than normal.

“Are you alright? Are you sick?” He asks.  I hear some rustling, and then my phone starts beeping, alerting me that he’s trying to connect using FaceTime.  I deny his request, pressing the screen quickly.

“Yes, I’m deathly ill.  And no, you don’t need to see me right now.” I say.  He mumbles something, and then my phone is beeping again and he’s requesting again to see me.  I deny him again.

“Stop!” I groan, but it is tinged with laughter.

“Charlie!” His voice is low, gravely, demanding.

“Why do you need to see me? I look like…Beetlejuice.” I scoff, which makes Tom sort of giggle.

“Let me be the judge.” He moves around again, and he requests to FaceTime.  I groan and hit ‘Accept’.  I pull my hood up, and then the blanket over my chin, so only the stripe of face where my eyes are is showing.  It takes a few seconds, but then there he is.  His face lights up my screen.  He’s sitting up, against his bed frame at his apartment in LA.  He’s got a few days worth of scruff on his face, and he’s smiling.  Smiling, smiling, smiling as only Tom can do.  When he sees my sliver of face, he laughs loudly, throwing his head back.  I can the crinkles by his eyes, his straight white teeth, the long, strong column of his neck. 

“Show me your face, you sausage.” He grins.  I shake my head.  He pouts for a second and then I remember that I am supposed to be annoyed with him. 

“How is Keegan?” I ask, my voice muffled behind my blanket.  Tom grimaces and runs a hand over his cheeks and mouth.  Oh, those hands. 

“She’s okay.  She’s fine, really.” He sits back, looking frustrated.  I tug the blanket off my mouth, as it’s making it hard for me to breathe.  “Her accident wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be.  She was definitely hurt—some broken bones and a concussion, but it’s not…life threatening.”

“Oh.” I say softly.  He looks at me, and I can tell he’s studying my face.

“I’m coming back to Maryland tomorrow.  I’m going to book a flight when we get off the phone.” He looks serious.  I take a deep breath.

“Maybe…maybe you should stay in Los Angeles.” I suggest.  Tom frowns, and I see a multitude of emotions flash through his light eyes.

“Why?  Don’t you want help with the celebration?” He asks.  I sit up slightly and then take him off FaceTime.  It’ll be easier to do this if I don’t have to look at him.

“You have to leave for work right after it anyway.  It’s sort of pointless for you to fly here for like…three days and then right back to LA.  It’s fine, really.” I say this all rushed, and jittery, and I am so transparent it’s not even funny.  Tom is silent for what seems like eternity.

“Is that what you want?” He asks finally.

“Tom…” I feel sad, and weak.  “I feel like we should just call this for what it was.”

“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice calm but warning. “Charlie.”

“I know that…you were probably rebounding.  And it’s okay. I’m sort of good for that, aren’t I? And you’ll always be my best friend, no matter what, but I don’t think we need to pretend—“

“Whoa…whoa, hold on a minute.” Tom’s voice rises quickly, and he sounds surprised and hurt. 

“I just—“

“Charlie.  Stop, please.” He’s upset and he cuts me off quickly. “You’re not a rebound for me. Do you really think that what’s happened?” He asks.  There’s something about his voice that just breaks me.  I can’t help it. 

“I don’t know what happened.” I feel nauseated.  “I just know that Keegan called and you jumped to go to her—“

“Charlie, I thought she was really hurt.  I thought—“

“I ran into Laurie Hoffer at the airport.” I cut him off now.  Everything feels rushed, and a bit surreal.  Now that we are talking, all my emotions that have been welled up inside seem to be begging to be let out.  I swallow hard and lean into the sofa.  I wish it would eat me alive. 

“What does she have to do with anything?” He asks, exasperation in his voice now.  I climb out from under my blankets and begin walking.  I go up the stairs to my bedroom, and then up the spiral staircase and out onto the widow’s walk.  I need to be outside.  I need the fresh air, and the clear sky.

“Tom…did Keegan cheat on you before?  Before this last time with that Teddy guy?” I ask quietly.  He doesn’t respond right away. I hear him sigh heavily.  I can imagine the face he is making.  I know him that well.  Tight, thin lipped.  Eyes looking downward.  Chin set.  Jaw clenched.

“I guess Laurie told you that.” He says, his voice tinged with steel.  I take a deep breath.  Someone nearby has a bonfire going, as I can smell the smoke in the air.  It’s a surprisingly nice night, without much humidity.

 “She did. I’m sort of confused as to why you didn’t.  I know it’s none of my business but…” I trail off.  I think about that fact that he was with Keegan for the last two days.  I think about that fact that he left me in London so he could go to her.  My heart squeezes, wrenches in on itself.  I sit back on the worn wood Adirondack chair.  It is still warm from the summer day, and it feels like a strange, hard and rough hug, surrounding my back and legs.

“She cheated on me after we first started dating.  I guess Keegan told Laurie.” Tom says finally, answering my question. 

“I didn’t know that.” I manage.

“I didn’t tell you.” He counters.  I bite my lip, and I’m suddenly not sure what to say.

“Oh.” I say lamely.  I feel so confused.  I know how I feel about Tom, but what if he was just confused about his feelings for me? What if he was just sad and vulnerable, and hurting after his break up, and he got his friendship love confused with real love?

“Do you remember that Valentine’s Day with the Chinese food and Fawlty Towers?” Tom asks.  I am crying and I roughly brush the tears away.  The tears are just slowly seeping out of me like sap from a cut on a tree.  I nod, but then remember he can’t see me anymore. 

“Yes.”

“That’s when it happened.  I’d just found out.  We were split up for about a month or so.  Three or four weeks.  Valentine’s Day was somewhere in there.”

“I see.” The night I fell in love with him. I was just his back up plan that night.

“We ended up working it out, Charlie.  I didn’t see the point in rehashing it with you, or with anyone.  It was embarrassing for me.  And I…” He drifts off.

“I didn’t know she cheated on you twice.”

“Well, now you do.” He sounds a bit annoyed, or angry.  Perhaps, with me. 

“I’m s-sorry.” I stutter. 

“For what, Charlie? For the fact that you and a woman I barely know are talking about my sex life in an airport somewhere?” He asks angrily.  His voice is hard and cold.  My gut instinct is to yell at him, but I’m not sure if I have it in me.

“Don’t be mean, Tom.” I say, my anger spiking a bit as well.  “Jeez, Tom. Laurie brought it up, not me.” I push forward, sitting up.  “She brought it up and said that…that’s probably why you were back in Los Angeles right now.  Because you were getting back together with Keegan.” My voice shakes and I hear the low, anxious rumbling of panic just at the edges.  Tom is so quiet for a moment that I am pretty sure he hung up on me.

“Tom?” I barely whisper.

“Is that what you think I’m doing, Charlie? Trying to get back with Keegan?”

“I…I don’t know what you’re doing anymore.” I breathe.

“Charlie, you’ve never doubted me before.  Why now?” He asks so simply.  I don’t answer because I don’t know what to say.  “I told you I loved you, and yet you still think I’m in LA to get Keegan back?” He demands.  His voice is a mixture of hurt and anger. 

“Well,” I hesitate, and then I feel anger take over a bit, which makes it easier to speak.  Easier, and still painful.  “You…you left me in London so you could go to her.  I know she’s not well, but I don’t know, Tom.  I didn’t hear from you for two days and our last serious conversation was sort of confusing and…I…I don’t really…” I trail off, the steam leaving me. 

“I thought Keegan was seriously injured.  I admit it, it was terrible timing. And I’ll admit I do still care about her, but not how you are insinuating.  I was with her for five years, I’m not a robot, I have feelings.  I know we were engaged, but I never would have bloody married her.  You know that.  I’m too damn in love with you.  It is wrecking me right now that you…I don’t even know what to say to you anymore, Charlie.” He groans, frustrated.  I’m frustrated as well.  

I think of how I couldn’t tell him what I wanted the night before he left.  I think of how I was too scared to tell him ‘Yes’. Because it would mean changing myself for him.  And I don’t want to do that ever again.  But I did want him to know how desperately I want him and only him, forever.  That I want to be his, and for him to be mine.  I was too scared to say what I felt, because the last time I stepped into that pool, I was knocked over by the biggest wave I’d ever faced.  Tom isn’t even a wave at this point.  He has the capacity to totally wipe me out.  I know he was hurt but what I couldn’t say the other night.  And now, I feel like I’m paying that price.

“Oh.” I whisper, my voice breaking.  What else can I say? Tom is quiet on the other end, and then he clears his throat, quietly.

“I wish we weren’t doing this over the phone.” He says simply.  I don’t want to cry, but I can feel my eyes fill.

“That’s how we are.” My voice is hoarse.  “You travel and work.  I stay in one place.  We talk on the phone.  We text.  We see each other when we can. We’re friends.” I don’t know what else to say. 

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore, Charlie.  You know that.” He says firmly, then sighs heavily.  “Would it make it easier if I was there?” He asks.  I can’t help it, I feel a tiny sob escape from my mouth. I hold my hand over my phone for a moment, trying to pull it together.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know if I could look at you.” I say finally.  He’s quiet again. 

“I’m sorry I’m not there.  I want to be.”

“If you want to be here, then be here.” I barely make it through the sentence.  “Then be here.” I’m crying softly, trying to hold it in, but failing miserably.

“Tell me you want me to be there with you, Charlie.  Tell me you’re available.  Tell me I can take you out on a date, and I can kiss you, and we can spend holidays together, and get to know each other in ways that we haven’t before. Tell me you want what I want. And tell me that you will stop letting the past…” His voice breaks, and then I start sobbing.  I can’t.  He wants me to tell him things I have banned from my vocabulary.  Even if I wanted to say them, I’m not sure I can physically say them anymore. 

“I can’t do it…” It’s painful to say. There was a reason why we were always such good friends.  Because I’m incapable of being anything else to someone.

“I love you, Charlie.  Nothing will change that.” He sounds drained.

“I love you too.” I manage.

“I need to go.  I’ll talk to you soon.” He says, and his voice wavers.  I’m not sure if he’s crying, but the idea makes me feel sick, and completely shattered.

“Okay.  I’ll talk to you soon.” I whisper, and then Tom disconnects.