*A/N: It's not a lot...but it's what I've got for now! :) P.S. I made up the names of the castles in this chapter, so sorry I suck at all that jazz.

I’m staring blankly out the window in front of my desk. Out over the lovely English countryside, but nothing’s really registering.  It’s all a blur to me.  The misty, gray green grass and the sloping grounds of Cleredon House, just screaming for Mr. Darcy to come stalking down the estate.

But it’s not Mr. Darcy on my mind.  Not at all.

“Gracie.” Mary’s voice brings me out of my reverie, and I turn quickly to face where she’s sitting just across the room.  She’s staring at me, an amused look on her face.

“Hi.” I say dumbly, feeling my cheeks flush, knowing I’ve been caught daydreaming.

“You were a thousand miles away.” She grins, looking more delighted than annoyed.  I roll my eyes and laugh.

“Not quite that far.” I sigh. Just a few hundred.   She raises an eyebrow at me and then sits back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“It was that good, eh? Your holiday.” She has been bugging me all day to give her details about Christmas, but I have refused anything other than it being ‘pleasant’.  I can’t quite talk about it.  It still doesn’t feel totally real to me.

“Mary.” I sigh, but I can’t help but smile.

“Ohhh, you! You’re getting on with that Tom, aren’t you?” She sits up, then stands and comes around to my desk, leaning against the edge of it.  I press my hands to my face, shaking my head.  I feel like I can’t talk about it. It’s too soon. I don’t even know what it is.  All I do know is, it was terribly hard to leave Sandbanks on the day after Christmas, knowing that Tom would be there for another few days. Santos had been equally upset I was leaving, but I couldn’t leave Mary alone at Cleredon to fend off the holiday crowds.

“We spent the night together. It was…” I drift off.   Mary looks at me with moony eyes, her mind wandering to similar places as mine, I’m sure.

“You’d never spent the night together? Is he the type to leave right after? Or, no, that would be you.” She says, tilting her head teasingly.  I scoff at her and grin.

“No, we have.  But there was just something different about this time.”

“It’s about time.  You’ve two have been playing around for awhile, right?” She asks.  I shrug.

“I’ve known him about two years.  Things have changed, I guess.” I glance at my phone, and see it light up.  He’s been texting me ever since I left.  From the moment I stepped on to the ferry, to today—just a few days after New Years.  I had spent my New Years with Mary at the pub near my flat.  I received, mere moments after midnight, a series of texts from Tom and Santos, who were still together with Tom’s family at the beach house.

The first photo was Tom pouting, with “Happy New Years from lonely kiss-less Tom.”

The second photo was Tom, smushed between Santos and Cillian.  Cillian was kissing Tom on the cheek and Santos had his tongue out mere inches from Tom’s face.  “Since you’re not here, I’ve decided to try an alternate lifestyle.” This one made me laugh until I was nearly crying.  It was now the background photo on my phone.

The third photo was everyone still at Sandbanks, crowded into one photo.  Tom was in the middle, Santos and Cillian still smushed at his sides.  Mrs. Hiddleston’s head is poking from behind them.  Mark’s chin and chest is visible next to her, and just the side of Emily’s head appears next to his chest.  “Miss you!” Tom had texted. I’d felt my cold, lumpy little heart squeeze tight, and despite spending my New Years in a crowded pub full of strangers, it was one of the better ones.

“Tell me about your trip. How was ex-hubs?” I change the subject, tucking my phone discreetly into my desk drawer, though Mary’s eyes follow my movements.  She knows I am skirting the issue, but she lets it slide.

“It was the same as always.  The ex in-laws got rip roaring drunk.  I shagged ex-hubby in the broom closet.  Then I got pissed as well.” She laughs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Really? You still sleep with your ex?” I ask, not wanting to sound judgmental.  I was just curious as to how that worked.  I know that they have a complicated relationship, but Mary only talks about him when absolutely necessary.

“Yeah. We didn’t work as a couple, but we can’t deny that the physical stuff is still there.  Sometimes that’s all it is, ya know? A physical thing. An itch. Doesn’t always go away.  As long as we understand it, that’s all that really matters.” She shrugs indifferently, and I let her words sink in for a moment. 

“Speaking of physical connections…” She takes a deep breath. I wait nervously. “Would you like to go to on a wee trip for me?” Mary smiles at me sweetly, and I frown. 

“Why do I feel like I’m being set up for something?” I say with a laugh, resting my head on my hand.  She sighs heavily and groans, her hands coming up in a defeated way.

“Well, because you are. Sort of.  Just hear me out, please.” She turns.  “Cleredon House works with a few other sites, you know this.  We don’t often need to do much, but sometimes we’re called on for special curation.  There’s a location scout looking into Alwinton Castle in Northumberland.  I know the manager at Alwinton. He’s requested one of us accompany the scout.  They’re also interested in Cleredon.  Normally I’d do it, as I’ve done it many times before.  It’s quite easy and not until the summer.  And you get loads of special travel overtime, though it’ll only take you about three days.  But…I’ve seemed to have gotten myself into a uh, sticky spot with Bernard, the manager there…”

I turn and give Mary a pointed stare.

“Broom closet?” I clear my throat.

“No, the Lord’s chamber…” She let out a giggle, which made me laugh as well.

“You’re a mess, Mary Heath.” I punch her lightly on the hip, as she stands up, laughing.

“He just knew so much about 13th century architecture…I was…overcome!” She starts laughing harder, holding her sides.  I shake my head, joining in with her laughter.

“I’ll do it.” I shrug good naturedly.  It wasn’t as if I had anything else to do.  A quick trip later in the year to Northumberland would be fun, and a good change of scenery.  Castles like Alwinton were mostly closed to the public, so on the occasion that someone was interested in seeing them, they had to do so under special circumstances.

“Thank you, darling.” She giggles and looks relieved.  We both start when my phone started to rattle and buzz inside my desk drawer.

“Ah, is that Romeo now?” She raises an eyebrow as I hastily yank open my drawer.

“No, not quite.” I laugh, showing her Santo’s photo as it pops up on my screen.  Mary shrugs and then makes her way back to her desk.

“A Romeo, just not yours.” She murmurs softly as she sits down, giving me some privacy.  I scrunch my nose at her, and then answer the call.

“Darling.” I coo into the phone.

“Sweet bum.” Santos coos back.  “Listen, I’m only in London until early tomorrow morning.  Come meet me for lunch.  Cillian is working, so it’s just us.” He demands, leaving me little room for any options but ‘Yes’.

“I’m working, Santos.”

“Yes, but I know you can leave.  Tell Mary I say hello and she looks gorgeous today.  Love what she did with her hair.” He says quickly, and I can’t help but laugh despite myself and his ridiculousness. “I’ll meet you at Gilly’s in an hour. Bye love!” He hangs up, and I am left staring at my phone.

“Just take half a day. I won’t tell.” Mary pipes in from across the room.  I peak at her over my shoulder, and I see her eyes just over her computer monitor.  “And he’s right, my hair does look fantastic today.”

“Thanks.” I grin and start gathering my things.

****

Santos is already at a table when I get to Gilly’s.  He’s inside at a corner table, a pair of Ray Bans resting on the table top.  He’s wearing tailored brown trousers with a fitted sweater over a chambray shirt and what looks like some sort of bow tie. He’s drinking beer, and has ordered one for me as well. 

“There she is. My working girl.” He stands up and yanks me into a hug as I walk up to the table.  I squeeze him and then pat him on the butt.

“Hi.  How are you?” We sit down, and Santos smiles at me then nods toward our drinks.  We both drink and I sit back, sighing softly.  A drinking lunch.  Nothing better.

“I’m great. But let’s not talk about me. I’m so borrringgg.” He says in a sing song voice.  I feel heat rush to my face and I press one hand to my mouth.  He looks at me quickly, his eyes focused on my face.

“You get right to the point.”

“We’re not getting any younger.  Are you and Tom an item? Or was he just texting you all week for his health?” Santos grins at me.  I shift in my chair.

“We haven’t talked about it. I don’t know.” I look at him, and I know I won’t be able to lie.  Not to him. 

“That’s because you have no emotions or feelings.” Santos groans, as our waiter comes over.  He looks up and smiles, orders us both salads and burgers and then turns back to me.

“Hey!” I protest his ordering for me.  He shrugs.

“It’s what you would have ordered anyway.” He raises an eyebrow and challenges me.  I laugh and roll my eyes.

“Ok. Fine.”

“I wish you could have stayed.  It was a fantastic time.  Cillian got so drunk on New Years Eve, he went streaking around the beach house. He pretended that we dared him, but really it was all his idea.  He’s an exhibitionist, that one. Mrs. H almost cracked a rib she was laughing so hard.”

I laugh, throwing my head back as I imagined a naked Cillian squealing as he dashed around outside in the English seaside cold. 

“I wish I could have stayed as well.” I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Tom is absolutely smitten with you.  You know that right?” Santos gives me a serious look and then is quiet, while I mull this over.  Tom. Smitten. With me.

“He hasn’t said as much but, we’ve been talking a lot.  We had a really good night together.  It felt…different.  It felt real.” I look up at Santos, who is a little misty eyed.  “Does that make sense?” I ask, feeling suddenly self conscious.  Santos immediately starts nodding.

“It does.  You guys bonded.  But you did shag him, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I am sure I turn bright red.  I don’t answer, which is enough of an answer for Santos.  “So what’s next?” He asks.  I shrug and take a long drink from my beer.  It’s cold and hoppy, and tastes wonderful. 

“I’m not sure.  We hardly had time to talk about it.  He’s away for work now.  But he’ll be back mid February for a few days.  He’s promised to see me then.”  There were no concrete plans, but there had definitely been mentions of it.  It is strange to talk about Tom like this.  To think about making plans with him, and having him be a more constant part of my life.  It feels strange and scary and exciting all at once. 

“I see a Spring wedding.  Something simple, classy and elegant but a bit playful.  You’ll look amazing in a lace Monique Lhuillier.  Tom will be in Armani or McQueen.  Or maybe he’ll go traditional.  We’ll talk about it.  Iron out all the details.” Santos pokes at me and I grin but then roll my eyes.

“One day at a time, please.” I groan. 

“This is a good thing. You know that, right?” Santos says quietly. He leans forward at the table and waits.  “You’ve got to give him a chance.  Not everyone leaves, Gracie girl.  And not everyone will let you down.  I’ve learned that.  It’s taken awhile, but I’ve learned that.  I wish you could too.” He’s being serious, and I can tell he means what he says.  The past few months, with Cillian, have had their effect on him.  I nod at Santos, and feel a strange, quick tightening in my chest.

“I know.  And I’m trying.  I am.  I don’t have any other choice at this point.” I say softly, looking up and meeting’s Santo’s warm eyes.  “I really… I really care about him.” Saying out loud makes it more real.  Santos gives me a small smile.

“It makes me really happy to hear you say that.” He reaches forward and takes my hand.  I feel the next words swell in my throat, and before I can stop them, they are coming out of my mouth.

“I think I might be in love with him, Santos.  Am I crazy?” It’s something I’ve hardly admitted to myself, let alone another person.  I’m just as shocked as Santos, but he hides it better.

“You should probably be telling him this, lovey.  Not me.” He grins and looks triumphant.  “And no, you’re not crazy.  Or at least not in the way you think.”  There is nothing better than seeing your best friend in love, and he looks absolutely thrilled.  I grin and shake my head, looking away.

“I will.  I will.  When I…figure it all out.  I just…don’t want to scare him away.” I know it is far too soon to be dropping that sort of nonsense on Tom.  But knowing how I feel, and understanding it, makes me feel much more at ease than I’ve ever felt when it comes to him.  I feel lighter, and yet fuller at the same time. 

“We should probably celebrate.  Because I think the world is about to end.  Is it too early for shots?” Santos laughs and starts looking for our waiter.  I smack him, but our laughter is loud enough that it echoes through the small restaurant.

****

I’m lying in bed, panting slightly. My face is flushed, and I’m warm all over.  I can feel my heart pounding against my chest, my thoughts blurred and light.  I must have moved around enough that I’ve kicked half the covers off the bed.  I moan softly, my face half buried in the pillows.  It takes me a few moments, but then I hear him.

“Are you there still? Did you pass out?” His voice in my ear.  I grip my phone tighter, lick my lips and giggle, my voice husky and rough around the edges.

“I’m here.  Where else would I be?” I whisper.  Tom groans softly, and his voice sends a shiver down my still shaking body.

“There is nothing sexier in the world than hearing you moan.” He says, his voice lowering.  I grin and blush, despite myself. 

“Shush.” I whisper.

“It’s true.  It would only be sexier if I was there to make you moan.” He rumbles.  I groan softly, and slide onto my side, reaching down and yanking my duvet up and over me.  My thighs are still humming, and I feel relaxed and flush with the lingering effects of a spectacular orgasm.  It would be better if he were here.  Of course it would.  But his voice is enough, and I swear, I could practically feel his hands on me a moment ago.  He can be very…very descriptive.  The man has an imagination, that’s for sure.

“I wish you were here.” I say softly, closing my eyes.  We’ve been doing this now for over a month.  Texting.  Chats on the phone usually every couple of days. We haven’t put a label on it, we haven’t really discussed it.  It’s just been organic, happening naturally and on it’s own.  And it’s definitely different than ever before.

I haven’t worked up the nerve to tell him.  Not everything.  But I’m getting there.  And perhaps soon, when I see him in person, I’ll be able to find the courage to bare it all. 

“I wish you were here.” He says cheekily, laughing softly. I groan and pull the blankets around me.  We’ve both been busy, working late hours.  His hours are often longer, and quite different than mine. It’s hard to keep track of what he’s doing and when, but he’s always been great at getting back to me in a good amount of time. I try not to bother him too much with silly things, but he never seems to mind when I do.  And sometimes I’ll wake up to a detailed description of his day, what he ate and did, and who he talked to, and then an apology for being so long winded.  It’s adorable, really, and I relish it.

“Soon.” I say softly.  He’s scheduled to fly in just before Valentine’s Day, which is only about two weeks away.  We both know we’ll see each other, but neither of us have recognized that holiday.  It’s not really necessary.  And the added pressure seems pointless.

“About that, Gracie.” He suddenly gets serious, his voice hesitant. I open my eyes, waiting.

“Yeah?”

“I just found out before I called you tonight.  They’re scheduling reshoots.  I don’t think I’ll make it back. There’s no point in me coming home to London for two nights, and then flying back to California. They’re scheduling me for three reshoots.” He sounds disappointed, and worried. I’d be lying if I didn’t feel the drop in my stomach, the disappointment and frustration welling quickly.

“Oh, that’s…” I don’t know what to say.  I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to stress him out or make him feel bad.  But I’m suddenly at a loss for words.  I went from an extremely lovely high, to a quick push back into cold reality.

“I’m sorry. I am.  I feel bloody terrible.” And he does sound it.  I brighten up and swallow hard, clearing my throat.

“It’ll be alright.  We’ll figure something out.” I manage quickly.  Tom lets out a small, relieved laugh.

“You’re a good sport, you know.” He says gently. 

“I know.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He adds.  I nod, knowing he can’t see me, but hanging onto his words. 

“If I were there right now, I’d be kissing your neck, and burying myself between those luscious thighs of yours.” He says this with quite a lot of conviction, a low growl in his voice, that I quickly forget he just told me that I wouldn’t see him for another few months, at least. 

“Tell me, what else would you be doing?” I roll back onto my back, my hand on my thigh.  Tom starts talking again, alternating between making me giggle and making me sigh.  But I can’t quite totally forget that I’m alone, in bed. And he’s halfway across the world, alone in his.