Of all the places I fantasized seeing Tom again...

After the series of photos of he and Charlie and the various women throwing themselves at them both... I'd known in the pit of my stomach that he had avoided my call the other night, and I was just as sure that it would be a damn miracle if I ever got the chance to see him again, to hold him, to tell him...

And here he was, a miracle sitting at my family's kitchen table as if it were a place he'd belonged all his life. His eyes were piercing with some unknown fury, and my breath hitched as it occurred to me that he'd come this way to tell me something he couldn't over the phone, something I didn't want to hear through any manner.

Tom blinked, the intensity of his gaze diminishing as his eyes drifted down and registered the bags I held in my arms. Wordlessly, he walked over to me and easily took the overflowing bags from my arms.

I sagged slightly and watched as he carefully placed them on the nearby counter.

He hesitated and then turned toward me again. "I was going to phone you when I missed your call," he offered in explanation as he pushed his hand through his hair. "But I... hopped on a train instead."

A wave of relief lapped over every inch of my body. I felt I could collapse right there, but I somehow managed to stumble forward, my arms reaching toward him.

Tom caught me easily around the waist and pulled me into his warm chest. My arms wrapped around his neck and I pulled him down, closer into me.

"God I missed you," I breathed.

I wasn't sure he'd heard me until he squeezed me tighter.

I don't know how long we stood there embracing each other—it could have been a minute or an hour, either way, it would have been too short. Eventually, Tom began to pull back and I, fighting my own selfish instincts, let him.

His gaze never left mine as he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. I sniffed and looked down at the floor, not wanting him to see my tears brewing.

My eyes noticed an unfamiliar looking bag tucked away neatly underneath the table. "You brought a case?"

He wouldn't bring a case if he were planning to break things off, a hopeful voice hummed inside my heart.

"I told him he could stay in your room," my mother chirped from the doorway.

I shook my head in disbelief as I turned and took in her glib expression. "I can only imagine what else you said to him."

My mother feigned innocence before excusing herself to the garden.

"I made arrangements to stay at an inn," he murmured behind me.

I spun around to face him, my panic over his purpose of visiting me returning. I stepped into him, aching to feel closer to him after so much time apart. "Unarrange them."

Tom lifted his eyebrows in question. I set my jaw and pulled on his shirt in response.

"Unarrange them," I repeated.

A part of me hoped he wouldn't hear the begging in my voice, but the other part of me didn't care—he was here. That was more important than anything else.

Tom merely bobbed his head in acquiescence.

Hesitantly, I lifted my hand to his cheek. It was rough to the touch, with days worth of stubble spiking out of his skin. His eyes, searching mine, had dulled and there were dark circles hanging beneath them. His hair, too, had changed, growing long and unkempt.

"You look exhausted," I murmured.

Tom merely shrugged. "Just haven't been sleeping well."

I pang of guilt ricocheted through my chest. "Want to head upstairs and have a rest?" I offered meekly.

Tom shook his head.

"Fresh air then?"

Tom hesitated, but then exhaled a short huff of air and nodded. "Sure, Ems."

None of the groceries I'd purchased were perishable, so I left them to wait on the counter for either Mum or me to deal with later.

I slipped my hand from his cheek and wove my fingers between his. As we left through the front garden, Tom's hand gave mine a reassuring squeeze and I couldn't help but sigh aloud.