They make their way back to Libby's flat. Neither one is talking, they got dressed quietly, and they didn’t look at each other. They fucked up. Quite literally, but Tom feels like he shouldn’t say that now. Or laugh. Or even snicker.

He feels bad. He really does. They both got emotional and now they have to deal with it. Or not. Because they’re so not dealing with this right now.

Tom knows Libby's mad at him. But to be fair, she didn’t stop him. He didn’t force her to do anything. He’s sure she knows that too. That’s why they’re not talking on their way back.

Or they haven’t yet, because now Libby stops in the field and turns around, almost making Tom walk straight into her. He catches himself before he can cause any damage, though.

They stare at each other, Libby breathing heavily, and Tom does his best to keep his focus on her face and not her rapidly heaving chest. Focus.

“Why did we do that? Why are we always so fucking stupid, Tom?” she shouts. Before he can even think of an answer, Libby's eyes widen. What now? “Did you fucking plan this? Did you?”

“Whoa.” Tom holds up his hands, almost in defence mode. She always tended to slap his biceps whenever he made a stupid comment. He can’t even begin to think what sleeping with her in a barn would make her do. “Of course, I didn’t plan it. I wanted you to relax and get out of the flat. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Libby huffs. “Hm.”

“I’m sorry that it happened. We shouldn't have let it get that far.”

“Are you? Sorry that it happened?”

What does she want him to say now? What should he say? But that’s such a media world thing to think, isn’t it? This is Libby. This isn’t about what he should say to not make her mad. Or to do exactly that. She knows him. He can’t lie to her, not in the long run. He’s realised that these last couple of days.

“I think it was wrong. We made everything way more complicated than it’s been anyway.” Libby nods, but he continues. “But I think we both wanted it in the moment. And we needed an out.” Tom shrugs. “Maybe we should have shouted at each other instead.”

Libby rolls her eyes, but Tom can see a small grin before she turns around again to walk on. “Don’t make me laugh, Tom. We fucked up.” He opens his mouth as he walks behind her, but she beats him to it. “Shut up.”

“If it helps,” he starts after a moment, and he sees Libby hesitating for a moment, before she straightens and continues to walk, “I’m sorry that I’ve put you in such a position. I hope you know that.” And by god, does he hope Libby knows it’s not just this situation he’s talking about. But everything.

Tom almost doesn’t see her nod, but he catches it in the last minute. They don’t talk anymore for the rest of the walk, but when they reach Libby's flat, she turns around to face him.

“I hope you know I’m sorry, too.” Tom opens his mouth to say something, asking what exactly she means. But maybe he knows what she's saying without her talking about it. Just like the other way round. “I think we both know what we’ve done wrong, don’t we?”

He swallows. “Seems like we do.”
•••
The good-bye in front of her door is awkward as hell, and after giving the most pathetic wave, Beth rushes through her door and locks it before Tom has the chance to comment on it.

If she imagined having a hard time falling asleep tonight before, now she’s positive she won’t close her eyes for even a bit.

How stupid can two people actually be? The situation was bad enough this morning, and now they’ve managed to make it even worse.

Beth feels dirty. Not just physically because she’s just had sex in a barn, but also emotionally. She had sex with Tom, for the first time in who knows how long, because they hadn’t been alright for a while, even before Tom didn’t make it back from Hollywood. She had sex with Tom, who’s only here in Oxford to make her sign the papers. So he can get married again.

For fuck’s sake. Tom’s going to get married again. He’s cheated on someone – on his fiancée – with her. With his ex-wife. Well, technically speaking, she's still his wife. He’s been with her first. Julia came after her.

God, she's horrible. Before Beth can talk herself into making any more excuses for her behaviour – though although maybe Tom is right and they really had to get it out of their systems – she rushes to the bathroom and into the shower.

While she cleans herself up, she’s desperately trying not to think about why she needs this shower now. It’s because she just had sex with Tom, can still feel his fingers on every part of her body and him still inside her. Also, the barn wasn’t as tidy as it once was and they did a fair amount of dirty things.
See? Her brain won’t let her shut up, she’s clearly not made for ‘let’s get it out of our systems’-sex.

Beth’s fingers wander, and for a moment she wonders what would be, if Tom was still here with her. In her flat, in her shower. With his fingers that have just touched her not even an hour ago.

As she touches herself for a short time, Beth stiffens and stops. This is ridiculous. This is horrible. She rushes through washing her hair and cleaning up, then quickly gets dried up and dressed for the night. It’s going to be an early night, but it’s not like she’s got something else to do. And if she can’t sleep anyway, she can at least get comfortable.

Maybe a book would do her some good. But before Beth can even grab her copy of Wuthering Heights – yes, she’s in that mood tonight – her phone rings.

Damn it all, not again. How many more horrible things can possibly happen to her today? Is it Tom? Is it someone from the media? Did someone else say something horrible about her?

All those thoughts disappear and Beth breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the number and the name on the display.

“Sophie,” she mumbles, and before she knows what’s happening, the sobs and tears start.

“Hey, Darling. We didn’t know when to call you. How are you today?”

“I don’t know—,“ Beth starts, and she can hear a little gasp at the other end of the line.

“Oh, Hun. I’m so sorry, I should have called earlier.”

“I wasn’t home.”

“Oh?” There's a slight pause. “Uhm, aren’t there any more paps in front of your door?”

“I didn’t... I wasn’t at the front door.” By now, Beth is curled up on her couch, the voice of one of her best friends calming her down considerably. “Sophie? I fucked up.”
•••
Tom hasn’t slept. At all. He came home to James's house, again through every possible backyard and secret little path he could find and remember. His dad was in the kitchen, greeting him with a look only a parent could muster. As if he knew exactly what Tom had been up to. It made his skin itch and his cheek burn like they’d gone up in flames.

James didn’t really know what had happened. Surely. Did he smell like sex, though? Or did he smell of Libby?

It didn’t matter though, because before James even said something, Tom just shook his head and went to his room.

He’s still in there now, twelve hours later. Though he won’t go running today, he's considering getting up anyway. What else is there to do?

Julia’s going to arrive this morning, and while Tom’s been thinking about how he’s going to deal with Libby from now on (he’s settled on ‘Not at all’), it only now dawns on him that he'll have to face his fiancée.

How though? Because hell if he has any idea of how she’ll react to him. He doesn’t even know how he wants her to. Well. Obviously, she should still be fine with marrying him. More than fine. He wants to marry that woman. And in a way, now it’s easier, right? No more secrets between them. Okay, apart from that last afternoon with Libby. But they’ve agreed on needing an out, and that’s it.

He’ll apologise profusely, and he won’t mention sex. Then he should be good.
•••
Tom’s not good at all, now two hours later with a car and a driver in front of his father’s house and his fiancée getting out of it.

Greeted and followed by flashes and shouts from photographers, Julia lets her driver take out her bags – it’s three, Tom’s got no idea why – and comes to the house.

She sent Tom a text before, telling him to open the door for her and greet her with a kiss. Nothing easier than that. He does just that when Julia is close enough, and he’s almost blinded by the lights and deaf from the shouts of “Hey Tom!”.

He refrains from waving, instead opting for ignoring the paps outside and focusing on Julia in front of him. She lifts a brow and then smiles as Tom leans down to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles without moving his lips too much. Something he’s mastered after years of Hollywood red carpets.

“Not here,” is all Julia whispers back, and the ice in her voice betrays the smile on her face.

They smile at each other, before Tom opens the door further, making room for Julia to pass him. Tom takes the bags from the driver and thanks him with a handshake, sure that the tips will be provided at the end of Julia’s stay in England. He for sure hasn’t seen the last of that man.

Inside, Tom’s nerves are back in full force, if they’ve even been gone in the first place.

From the living-room his dad enters the corridor, a smile on his face, and his hand already outstretched as he makes his way over to Julia.

“I’m James Hiddleston,” he introduces himself. “Tom’s father.”

Julia’s lips twitch a bit, but the broad smile from before has vanished. “Julia Simons,” she answers as she shakes the hand. And then doesn’t say anything else as she lets go.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Well, that’s a lie. Tom hasn’t said much about Julia. At least not to his family.

“Tom didn’t talk a lot about his family.” At least, she’s honest.

“Oh, I can imagine.” James smiles politely and then shares a look with Tom. “I’ll leave you both to it,” he says. “Maybe you can show her around, I bet she’s tired, and you clearly have a lot to talk about.”

Tom feels like he’s 14, bringing his first girlfriend home. Yay, him. He blushes, rolls his eyes and then picks up two of Julia’s bags to carry them upstairs. “Come on,” he mutters and heads up the stairs.

Tom can feel James still standing in the corridor when the door to his room closes behind him and Julia.

“So,” he starts, “this is my old room. Almost exactly like I left it. Old, sentimental man, my dad.”

Tom shifts a bit as Julia doesn’t respond. Instead, she moves through the room, touching a book here and a lamp there.

“Hm,” she mumbles, “nice. I want to meet Elizabeth.”

Tom almost chokes and swallows his own tongue. “Uhm, excuse me?”

“I want to meet her. Maybe be seen with her. I’m obviously okay with this since I’ve known for a while.”

“You...” Tom shakes his head and sits down on his bed, Julia still walking through his room as if she’s really interested in seeing how 14-year-old Tom used to live when he wasn’t away at boarding school. Maybe she even is, and he’s doing her wrong by thinking she seems a bit cold. Which he would understand. He’s been keeping this from her for way too long.

“I’ve known for a while, as far as the media is concerned,” she says as she turns to him. “Or do you want the world to think you’ve been lying to not just them, but everyone in your life these past years? I’m actually not even surprised you hid this. I mean, an ex-wife in a small English town isn’t exactly Hollywood now, is it? There’s so little glamour here.”

Julia’s right. Of course, she is, Tom knows so himself. This is probably the least glamourous place he’s been in since making it in Hollywood. Not counting remote shooting locations of course.

But still Tom can’t help but feel offended by Julia’s dismissal of his hometown. Sure, he hasn’t been here since filming Thor, but that’s not the town’s fault. Not by far. That’s just him and his stupid fear of facing past friends and past loves.

The realisation almost makes him jump up, but he catches himself and just shifts on his bed, rubbing his neck.

Julia stares at him anyway. “You’re not mad at me for saying that, are you? Maybe you should be happy I’m even here.”

Tom nods. “I am. Happy that is. Thank you for not breaking up with me. And I am sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you. I was just... ashamed in the beginning. And then not telling you got a little out of hand and Libby just didn’t want to sign those bloody papers, so I came here.”

Tom’s standing now, moving closer to Julia. “I want to marry you. I need to marry you.”

His fiancée smiles a bit, then furrows her brow. “Does she want money?”

“Hm?” Tom’s so close now, he just grabs Julia’s hands and pulls her to him. She doesn’t protest, instead wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Elizabeth. Does she want money? Maybe she’ll sign then.”

Again, Tom is offended. This time on Libby’s behalf. How easy this would have been, if Libby was the type of woman you throw money at and then get your will.

He shakes his head. “No. No, she doesn’t want money.”

“Huh.” She moves closer still, her head resting on Tom’s chest. “We could still offer.”

“But we won't,” he states firmly. “She'll be furious. She's not like that.” Tom kisses her head. “I can guarantee that.”

“Okay. I think it’s time to meet her, isn’t it?”
•••
On the list of stupid things Beth has done in the past week this doesn’t even take the top spot. And that’s saying something.

“Are you sure about this?” Sophie asks her as they both take off their sun glasses before entering the pub they’ve been in the week before. Just that this time it’s barely past 3 p.m. and they’re both followed by a storm of paps and greeted by another group. Tom and Julia must already be here then.

Sophie’s a saint for going through this with her, Beth thinks not for the first time since they’ve both left her flat. She didn’t even hesitate to agree when Beth asked her to meet Tom and his fiancée with her.

“Sure, I’ll spit in her French sparkling water,” she’s said and Beth had to dig very deep in her morals to tell her that that would not be an option.

Tom’s text started with ‘I’m sorry’ confirming Beth's suspicion when her phone beeped. Julia wants to meet, and she wants to meet quite publicly to ensure everyone – the media – that all is fine and everybody's friends. Those aren’t the words Tom used, but Beth isn’t stupid despite her never visiting Hollywood herself.

“No,” Beth finally answers Sophie’s question as they both search for the two familiar faces and then sigh simultaneously when they spot them. “But I guess it’s better to face this sooner rather than later.”

She's suspected the greeting to be frosty, but Beth almost chokes when first Julia and then Tom give her and Sophie a hug and a warm ‘hello’. What the hell? A glance at her best friend confirms that this is not what she suspected, either.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you properly,” the tall, beautiful woman in front of her laughs. “Tom’s told me so much about you. Good that our schedules finally match.”

Behind Julia, Beth can see Tom’s pleading eyes. He looks just as uncomfortable as Beth and Sophie, but he hides it when Julia turns around and looks at him.

His “It’s great to have you both here,” meets Beth's ears at the same time as Sophie mumbles a shocked, “What the fuck,” next to her.

And then Julia ushers both friends to the table in the back, sitting as close to Tom as possible without climbing on his lap.

“Sit, sit,” she urges. “You just have to tell me everything about you that Tom hasn’t told me yet. I’m so excited to get to know you.”