A/N:  Woo! Here's a quick epilogue for everyone.  Thanks for all the feedback and support on Crumbs! I loved writing it.  Sorry I haven't been around lately...I got married! Woooo!!! It was a fantastic day :) Thanks for all the well wishes!

Keep tuned, I'm working on my next Tom fic! It's called "Hello Again".  I hope to have a first chap posted within the week! Thanks guys!

2 months later

“We’re going to be late.  My mother is going to kill me if we are late.” I shout over my shoulder, hobbling around the first floor as I put my boots on.  I can hear Tom upstairs.  There is a scuffling sound, a loud thud, and then a muffled string of curses.

“Are you okay?” I frown and look up at the ceiling.

“I’m okay.  It’s going to have to be amputated though.” Tom’s voice calls out, and I don’t even try to muffle my laugh. 

“Come down here and I’ll kiss it better.” I say with a laugh.  There is another thud, and then a rapid rumble of feet.  Tom comes flying down the stairs of the hobbit hole, crashing into the wall, all legs and arms.  He’s half dressed, his jeans on but unzipped and shirtless.  Yowza.  I stand up straight and he comes to a stop in front of me. 

“That was quick.” I mumble, smiling.  He grabs me, slipping his hands around the back of my neck and through my hair and kisses me deeply.  Mmm, sweet sugary lumps.  I’ve missed him. 

“I don’t care if we’re late.  I’ll bear the wrath of your mum.  Let’s be really late.” He presses his body against me, and I can feel the shower dampness of his skin. He tastes clean and smells like my vanilla lavender soap, which makes me smile mid kiss.

“I want to ride the ferris wheel.  And do the corn maze.  And eat pumpkin things.” I pull away, but put my hands against his flat stomach.  His muscles and skin react, tightening and moving against my hand.

“I’ll give you something to ride.” He murmurs into my ear.  I squeal and punch him gently in the stomach.

“Sorry, that was graphic, wasn’t it?” Tom laughs and leans away, his smile big, brightening his face.  I nod and push him toward the sofa.  He stumbles back, but only a foot or so.  I push him again, raising my eyebrow and this time I push him hard enough that he falls back onto the couch.  He sprawls there for a moment, watching me, a tiny confused but hopeful smile on his lips.

“It was graphic, you potato.  But maybe I like graphic.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and then pounce on him.  He makes this crazy, laughing scream noise and then we are simply wrapped up in each other and there are no other noises but our kissing, and breathing and sighing.

It has been two months since the Summer Celebration.  Since Tom showed up at Tiny Baker, offering me everything.  Since I took him up on that offer, and didn’t look back once.  It hasn’t always been the easiest two months.  He’s been working, which means I hardly see him.  And I’ve been working as well.  Tiny Baker has never been busier.  I’ve been transitioning the Maryland store into a bigger hub for the business, and turning the LA store into just catering.  It’s been fun and overwhelming and exciting.  And knowing that I have Tom with me, and on my side through all of it makes it even better.  But perhaps he’s always been on my side and with me.   

All the work makes it hard but we’d been prepared for that.  We’d been preparing for that for what seems like years.  We were already good at doing our own thing, and then reaching out to each other when we needed to.  Not much has changed, except we do try to talk at least once a day.  Even if it’s just a quick phone call, or a silly text.  His hours are often much different than mine, and time differences make the burden even harder.  But there’s nothing quite like waking up to 17 texts from him, all of them listing the reasons why he wishes he were with me in the magic bed. 

We were able to see each other for a whopping 29 hours a few weeks ago.  He flew in on a break, and we didn’t leave the cottage until he had to go catch his flight.  It was a good…really good 29 hours.

After our little romp on the sofa, Tom agrees to go finish getting dressed so we can go to the Fall Festival.  It’s a lot of festivals in this town.  It’s really all they have going for them.  The bayfront, some little shops, and a whole bunch of festivals.  Thankfully for this one, Tiny Baker is selling make-it-yourself candy apples.  Which means little to no prep for us.  Mandy and Marcus are running the booth, along with two other high school age kids I’ve hired to help.  This leaves me free to enjoy the festival with Tom. 

The air outside is crisp and clean.  If summer in Maryland is hot, muggy and hellish, then fall is it’s one redeeming quality.  It’s picturesque.  Cool, crisp, with all the trees turning colors.  It smells amazing outside like dried leaves and spices and wood smoke. 

Tom grabs my hand immediately, squeezing it hard like a little kid.  He zips up his hoodie, and smiles at me broadly.  Oh, I love this man.

“What should we eat first, sweet?” He looks around the crowded streets, reading the signs from all the vendors.  A few people walk by us, waving at me and I wave back. 

“Whatever you want.” I wrap my arms around his, and press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Turkey legs…spiced apple slushies…pumpkin funnel cake?” Tom looks at me as if he’s stepped into another dimension.

“One of each.” I nod. 

“I’ve never had funnel cake.  I’ve never had any of these strange things.” He leads me over to the funnel cake stand.

“You will love it.” I walk up, taking over for him.  If I let him roam freely, he will come back with a dozen funnel cakes and be entirely covered in powdered sugar.

“Hi Charlie! Hi Tom! How’s it going?” Martha, the woman behind the stand asks.  I smile, letting go of Tom’s hand for a minute so I can get out my wallet.

“It’s great. How’s your little monster?” I ask.  Martha comes into the bakery a couple times a week with her son, on their way to his pre-k class.

“He’s good.  Running around with a whole pack of them right now.  Just look for the kids all hopped up on sugar.” She smiles and takes our order.  She comes back a moment later, with a golden orange funnel cake, covering in powdered sugar and whipped cream.  I hear Tom groan softly and I can’t help but laugh.

“How much?” I ask Martha.  She waves me off.

“On the house.” She winks at me, and then turns to the next customer.  I know this is because I always give her son, Gregory, a cookie when he comes in.  Tom pinches my side and kisses the side of my head.

“People love you here.” He whispers into my ear.  “This guy included.”

“Shush, you.” I follow him toward a set up of picnic tables, and we dig into the funnel cake.  Tom is instantly covered in sugar, and loving every moment of it.  I fight the urge to lick it off the corners of his mouth and his fingertips.  He feeds me a piece, and purposefully gets it on my chin.

We are still giggling and trying to get sugar on each other when I see my mother walk up behind Tom.  She’s wearing a sweater with little embroidered pumpkins on it.  Her boyfriend, Steve, is nearby.

“Tom! Lovely to see you!” She walks up, sliding a hand over Tom’s broad shoulders.  He rises from the picnic bench, wiping sugar off the side of his cheek as he does.

“Mrs. Kaye! Hello, Happy Festival.” He hugs her and my mother looks like she’s just died and gone to heaven.  They chat for a few more minutes, but I mostly tune out what they’re saying.  I just watch them interacting, and I can’t stop staring at Tom.  He’s from another world.  He’s smiling and laughing and charming my mother as usual.  I am entirely too aware of how lucky I am to have him.

“Mom, Tom and I are going on the ferris wheel.” I butt into their conversation, wrapping my arms around Tom’s waist.  He wraps my hands with his, and I feel his long, strong fingers slide through mine.  Mom frowns at me, putting her hands on her hips.

“I won’t keep you then.  Don’t forget about Sunday dinner, Charlotte.” She says sternly, in only the way she can.  I mumble in return, and grab Tom to pull him toward the other side of the festival.  He picks up the last piece of funnel cake as we walk, taking a big bite.

“You were talkative.” He says, falling into step next to me.

“I see her every day.  She’s in the bakery every day. All day.  Or at least it seems.” I sigh and Tom laughs. 

“She is trying to make up for lost time, Charles.” He hands some tickets we bought earlier to the man running the ferris wheel, and we climb into a bucket. 

“She needs to relax. I’m not going anywhere.” I sit back, and the festival worker closes and locks the front gate over us.  Tom throws his long arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side.

“Well, it’s true.  This is where you belong.” He takes a deep breath as the ride starts moving.  It moves slowly, stopping once or twice to let more people on.  We climb slowly up, until we reach the top, giving us a fantastic view of the festival, most of Havre de Grace, and the water. 

“It’s grown on me.” I say softly.  Tom squeezes and then he looks at me, his blue eyes darkened.

“I wanted to tell you in person.  The new project I’m working on has been delayed for a bit.  I have some time off again.  Not much, but it’s more than just a few hours.” He smiles.  I feel joy bubble up through me.

“Oh yeah? You thinking about taking a vacation?” I ask.  He nods.

“Yeah, know anywhere good?  I’m thinking about somewhere cozy, not too flashy, with a really good bed.” He grins.  I kiss him, and he wraps himself around me. 

“I’ll go anywhere with you, but I also know a really good hobbit hole.  Rents pretty cheap, too.” I murmur against his lips.  Tom kisses me, his lips soft and inviting.  He presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as we are still, but the ferris wheels moves us up, around and down.

“I love you so much, Charlie.  You have no idea.” He says softly.  My chest swells.  I never get tired of hearing him say it.

“I love you too.” I kiss his lips, and then his cheek and the tip of his nose.  We are quiet for a moment, and my heart is racing.  I open my eyes and look at him.  His eyes are closed, waiting for me to kiss him again.  I take a deep breath.

“You said you wouldn’t ask again.” I say softly.  Tom opens his eyes, blue as the sky.  He blinks, realizing what I’m referring to.  Marriage.  Him asking me to marry him for the countless time.

            “I know. And I meant it.” He nods, his voice low and steady.

“What if I ask?” My voice wavers.

Tom laughs and shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head at me.  He can’t tell if I’m joking or serious.

“That’ll be the day.” He sits back in the seat, rocking the car slightly.  I bump my knee into his, then grab his hand, which is gripping the front of the safety bars. 

“What if I am asking?” I say softly.  The sun is setting just behind him.  We can see for miles across the flat, watery horizon.  Everything is orange and gold.  Tom stops moving, his hand stills and squeezes my hand.  I don’t think I could describe his face if I was asked to, but I will try.

This man, the man who knows me better than anyone else, the man who stood by me, helped me heal when I was at my lowest, and has made me laugh more than I can count.  This man who can annoy me with a single noise, and in turn me to mush with a single touch.  This man who has accepted me for who I am, despite all my thousand and one flaws.  This man who I can’t imagine a day without.

This man who has my heart, and I most certainly have his.  He simply smiles, and with that one smile, promises me a world I thought was out of reach.  His smile answers my question, and when he rushes forward, grabbing hold of me to kiss me, I swear I have never tasted anything so sweet.