I text Tom before I leave the garage.  I don’t know what he’s doing, but I need to talk to him.  I fly back home, making it there in just under half an hour.  The Kia rocks and shakes as I push it to 70 on the highway.  Instead of driving to the hobbit hole, I go to the Oyster.  It’s late by now, nearly midnight, and I’m glad that my mother is most likely in bed.

Tom hasn’t texted me back, but when I pull into the driveway, I can see him sitting on the darkened porch.  My heart leaps to my throat as I put the car in park, and turn it off.  I climb out, astounded by the silence.  Baltimore is loud, always with the sound of cars and buses and people.  Havre de Grace is nearly silent, save for the chirp of crickets and the rustle of the breeze through the trees.  It’s totally peaceful.  It also means I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. 

I walk up the gravel driveway, teetering slightly in my heels.  I can see Tom sitting on the front porch, on the big swing.  There’s a candle lit next to him, and it gives off a dim, flickering orange light.  I walk quietly up the stairs, and I stop at the top.  He hasn’t moved, and hasn’t said anything but he obviously got my text message.

I shift slightly, and then hold onto the railing as I slip my shoes off.  I’m lowered about four inches, and my aching feet flatten and stretch against the worn wood porch planks.

“You look beautiful.” His voice breaks the silence.  It is all he says.  There is no “but...” after his statement.

“Thank you.” I whisper. 

“Want to sit?” He asks.  I nod and walk forward, my bare feet silent on the old wood floor.  I sit next to him on the swing, sliding back on the wide seat.  My feet don’t touch the ground, and I feel like a little kid.  Tom’s legs are stretched out in front of us, and he rocks us gently, bending at the knee.

“How was your date?” He says after a few minutes of nothing but crickets chirping.  I press my lips together, still feeling Paul’s wet, sloppy kiss.

“Terrible.” I grumble. “Not quite at the level of Roadside Assistance, but it was close.” We’re both quiet for a few seconds, and then it starts.  The giggles.  It starts with me, a low shake in my stomach.  We’re silent at first, just shaking ever so slightly, holding it in for the most part.  Tom has his arm around the back of the swing, and he has to move it to grip his stomach as he laughs. 

I let out this terrible little pig snort, which in turn makes him start laughing out loud.  I swat at his arm, and we both are sort of bent over in a fit.  I rest my head back against the wooden swing, and Tom laughs boisterously with his head tilted back.  It’s a freeing feeling.  Light and releasing and there is nothing like it in the world. Laughing with someone you love.

“He smiled about three times.  And he told me I was meaty.” I say, and this throws Tom into hysterics.  We’ve had conversations like this before.  In the past he used to get angry, but now, he just laughs with me.  We both recognize it’s the best thing to do. We laugh, I shake it off, I don’t have to cry. He’s shaking the entire swing.  I reach over and grab his hand.  He threads his fingers through mine and holds our hands up to his mouth, biting the back of my hand as he grins from ear to ear.

“What a wanker.” He sighs, taking a deep breath.  I shake my head with a sigh.

 “He’s a lawyer.  I’ve always wanted a sugar daddy.” I shrug.  I turn my head towards Tom.  He’s sort of slouched against the back of the swing, his face tilted up toward the ceiling. His eyes are focused up for a minute and then he looks at me.  It’s the first real eye contact we’ve made, and it feels a bit like finally waking up from a bad dream.

“What are you qualifications for this sugar daddy?” Tom asks.  I laugh and then muffle my loud voice with a hand.  He grins at me, his teeth white in the glow of the candle.

“Hot, definitely hot.  Like steaming hot.” I nod.  He nods in agreement.

“Of course.”

“Lots of money.  So he can take me on crazy vacations, and I never have to worry about Tiny Baker getting into trouble.” I sigh.  Tom nods again.

“And a huge, HUGE…” I open my eyes wide at Tom and move my hands like a sliding ruler.  He frowns at me, and slowly shakes his head from side to side.  “A huge respect for women and their wants and desires.” I say quickly.  He chuckles and I reach over, covering his mouth with my hand. 

“Shh! You’ll wake my mother.” I giggle.  He keeps laughing, muffled now, and then I feel him lick the palm of my hand. I yelp softly, yanking my hand away.

“Wake your mother, eh? I feel like a naughty teenager.” He nods his head toward me and our foreheads nearly bump.  I stay still, and then I lean forward, purposefully pressing my head against his.  He stills and we stay locked like that for a second.

“I’m sorry about being so mean to you.” My voice is soft.  Tom is quiet, and I can hear him breathing.  He leans forward, slips his head next to mine and pulls me into a hug.

“I’m sorry too.” He murmurs into my ear.  I can feel the solidness of his lean muscles, I can feel the heat of his body as well, and the soft fabric of his tshirt against my bare shoulders and arms.  But this warmth is comforting, enveloping and nice.  I press my face into his neck.

“I’m sorry about Keegan.  You have no idea how sorry I am.” I can hear his regret.  I nod and we both let go of each other.  I sit back, glancing over at him.  He starts talking then, fast and rambling, sort of sounding like me.  He’s using his hands a lot, and I can tell he’s a bit worked up—like he’s been waiting to say this to me for some time. “Charlie, I was working a lot.  The whole time I was there I was trying to get the reshoots finished.  Keegan found out I was in town, and staying at the apartment.  She told me she had moved out, so I didn’t see why I couldn’t just stay there for a few days.” He reaches down and starts fiddling with the hem of his shirt.  I try my best to stay objective.  To try and keep an open mind and not let my emotions take over.

“I got home late Saturday night after a really frustrating day.  She was there.  She was a mess.  She was crying and hysterical. She told me the guy she’d been seeing was trying to get back together with his wife.” Tom groaned.  “As if I care.” He added quietly, angrily.  “She was crying and saying how she’d messed up.  And Charlie, I got caught up in the familiarity of it.  In the past, when Keegan cried or was upset, I comforted her.  I took care of her.  I just…sort of fell back into that.” He shakes his head, obviously upset with himself.  “And then we were suddenly kissing.  Things got out of hand, I got caught up.  We ended up in bed naked and things were about to get serious—“ I lean forward, feeling my heart in my throat.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me anymore.” My voice sounds stilted.  Tom looks at me, mid sentence, surprise on his face.  I’ve never stopped him before.  We are usually open books with each other.  And to be honest, I’ve heard a good bit about his sex life, and he knows a lot about mine.  But right now, in this moment, I’m not sure I can handle any more. I need to explain myself to him.

“I hate Keegan, Tom.  I hate what she did to you.  I hate that she still hasn’t truly taken responsibility for it.  And I hate that you told me you didn’t love her anymore but you still seem sort of confused about your relationship with her.” I turn to him.  Don’t cry, Charlie. Don’t do it.  “I believe you when you say you didn’t have sex, but even if you did, it’s not really my place to care, is it?  But I can’t…hear about you and her together anymore.  It makes me feel…physically ill.  You deserve better than her.  And I don’t understand what you saw in her in the first place.  You can’t help who you love and I know that.  So I supported you while you told me you loved her, because I’m your friend. But now, you know the truth.  I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend.” Word vomit…everywhere.  Tom is silent.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. 

“Wow, Charlie, tell me what you really think.” He manages.  I groan softly, but then he reaches over and takes my hand.

“I’m sorry.” I say again. 

“You don’t need to say that.” He rubs a hand roughly over his face.  “I’ve been a completely self absorbed, short sighted asshole.” Tom leans forward on his knees, pressing his face into his hands.  “You’ve felt this way all along and I’ve spent the last five years driving you insane.” He looks over at me.

“I didn’t always mind.”

“Charlie, you mean the world to me, you know that right?  You’re my best friend, unequivocally.  But sometimes I feel like I hardly know you.” He says softly and looks away.  “I’ve told you before how hard you are to read. You’ve got this outer shell and I don’t always know if I’m doing the right thing with you.”

I blink, biting my lip. I know I’m not an easy person to get to know.  He knows me better than anyone, and it is not easy to hear this coming from him.  I am so painfully aware that my past has caused me to build up my walls. Apparently even with him.

“I wish I knew how to be…transparent.” I say softly, using a word that I’ve heard him use before.  A word he has used time and time again to describe Keegan.  Tom blinks slowly, and I feel as if he recognizes what I’m saying.  He sits back, his shoulders slumping slightly.  He takes a full minute before he speaks again.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Charlie.  I would not have you be anyone else.  You’re hard to read, but I would rather spend the rest of my life figuring out that mystery than have you be someone you’re not.” He leans forward, crouching over to see my face. 

“Things are just a little confusing for me right now.  Being in Maryland, seeing Chase, you and Keegan.” I don’t know what else to say.

“Keegan and I are finished, Charlie.  I swear to you.  We got in a huge row after I turned her down on Saturday.  There is no more ‘me and Keegan’.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out.  Even in the low light, I can see it is a ring.  My mouth goes dry.

“Is that…” I ask, suddenly feeling very tired.

“It’s the engagement ring I gave Keegan.  I told her to keep it, but she wouldn’t listen.” He holds it flat on his palm, and it sparkles in the candle light.  I reach over and pick it up off his hand.  It’s a beautiful ring.  The diamond is bigger than any I’ve ever seen.

“What are you going to do with it?” I ask softly.  He shrugs.

“I don’t know.” He groans.  “What did you do with your ring?” He looks at me, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s talking about the ring that Chase gave me.  I let out a low, humorless laugh.

“I threw it into the bay.  Right before I left.” I nod toward the direction of the water, down the field and past the hobbit shack.  Tom laughs and then he reaches down and takes my hand.  He stands up, pulling me with him.

“What? What are you doing?” I ask, confused. 

Tom pulls me gently off the porch, and we start walking down through the silent field.  The grass is damp and a bit scratchy under my feet. I feel it brush past my bare legs, and I have to walk fast to keep up with Tom’s long strides.  We walk hand in hand in silence for a few minutes, pass the cottage, and down onto the beach.

It smells salty, and musky like wet earth.  The ground changes from damp grass to rough sand, and I let my toes sink into the gritty little rocks. 

“Tom?” I ask again.  We keep walking until we reach the water’s edge.  He lets go of my hand and turns to me, then holds up the small, brilliant ring.

“He hurt you.  He betrayed your trust.  He didn’t deserve you.” He leans down and says this rather seriously.  He dips his head low and presses a kiss to my fingers.  I feel tears spring to my eyes, but I hold them in.  I reach forward, and press my hand against Tom’s chest. 

“She hurt me.  She betrayed my trust.  She didn’t deserve me.” He says very softly, looking down at the ring.  I feel one big, hot, lonely tear escape from the corner of my eye and run slowly down my cheek.  I take a step forward and gently touch Tom’s cheek.  It’s rough with a day or two worth of stubble. I can see all the pain in his eyes.  I feel as if his eyes are mirroring mine.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he turns and with a quick, lithe movement, he throws the ring out far into the bay.  It disappears instantly into the murky night sky, then somewhere into the water.  He tucks his hands into his pockets, and we stand silently, looking out over the water.  The bay laps softly at the shore, and I can tell neither of us has anything left to say. 

After some time, Tom takes my hand again, and we walk back to the cottage.  We wash our sand caked feet off in the tub and we make tea, neither of us saying much.  I disappear into the bathroom to get changed into pajamas and then when I make my way up the stairs to the bedroom, I find Tom waiting for me in bed.

I slip in next to him, feeling weary and bone tired and he immediately wraps himself around me.  I bite my lip hard, and I wrap my arms around him.  I kiss the top of his head and take a deep, shuddering breath.  Oh, dear, sweet, sweet…sweet… I can’t think of one single type of pastry. Dear, sweet pastry.  When did this happen? When did I fall in love with Tom?