"Tom," I gasped as he crawled out from underneath the covers. "We need... To talk."

"I thought we just did," he grinned wickedly.

My cheeks burned as I sat up, wrapping the sheets tightly around my chest. "You know what I mean. If I'm going to stay here—"

"You are going to stay here," he interjected, tugging on the sheets to no avail.

"Then we need to discuss some things," I finished in attempted sternness.

Tom sighed as he raked his hand through his hair. "What's to discuss?"

"I have amendments to your..." I hesitated trying to find the right words, "suggested trial period."

Tom laughed as he flopped down so that his head rest in my lap. "Of course you do."

"And several stipulations," I added.

"Whatever they are, I accept."

He reached a lazy hand up to play with one of my curls but I swatted it away. "No, Tom. We're going to logical about this. That's the whole point of this agreement, to give us a shot while being rational about it."

Tom looked up, considering me. "And what exactly are your amendments?"

"Well," I blushed, "your original offer—"

"Your ability to avoid the word 'proposal' is impressive," he teased which only caused my blush to deepen.

I looked determinedly at the sheet covering my still flushed body. "—didn't stipulate several key components," I eventually managed.

"Such as...?" Tom teased as his hand languidly reached for another one of my curls.

I closed my eyes as his knuckle grazed the edge of my jaw in a gentle caress. "How much rent I should—"

"None, that's a non-starter. Next?"

I opened my eyes and took in his serious expression. His lips, despite still being slightly swollen, were set in a resolute frown. I sighed as I ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Tom—"

"Absolutely not."

"But—"

"It was in the original terms—"

"Which I never agreed to!" I practically laughed.

"Emma, you're not paying me anything," he said before adding more bitterly: "You've lost enough from us being together as it is."

My expression fell at that as my hand slid to caress his cheek. "I lost my job, that's all. And besides knowing what I know now, Rufus and I were bound to come to a disagreement over ethical standards. It was just a matter of time."

Tom closed his eyes and turned into my palm. "You've lost your privacy too, though I promise I'll protect it as much as I can."

"I know you will," I murmured.

Tom sighed heavily and kissed my palm before pushing himself up to meet my eyes. "If this is a trial period, then we should make it as realistic as possible... so that you can be sure this is really what you want."

I silently nodded in agreement.

"And if we're married," Tom grinned slyly, "you won't be paying rent—"

"Tom," I groaned playfully but he quickly silenced me with a kiss.

"—because whatever's mine will be yours," he stated before planting one final kiss on my mouth.

I grinned against his lips. I couldn't help it. And it wasn't because of the money, either. It was merely the fact that to Tom it was so simple: he loved me, I knew, and in giving me his love he would hold nothing back.

Which made my next stipulation all the more difficult to press.

"No rent," I conceded. "But... we'll need a time frame."

"Indefinite," he shrugged self-assuredly.

I sighed, again. "Tom—"

"I'm not putting an expiration date on our relationship, Emma."

I held fast. "Six months."

Tom's eyes widened at that. "And I'm not letting you either!" He exclaimed indignantly.

I leaned slightly back, away from him. "Letting me?"

Tom shook his head adamantly. "I just got you back, Ems."

I closed my eyes so I wouldn't roll them. "You never lost me, Tom."

"I thought you were calling to tell me you were leaving me tonight." His words were curt and jagged with an edge of raw hurt.

My eyes flew open at the sound of it and my breath hitched slightly as I took in his pained expression. "Tom—"

I lifted my hand to smooth away the wrinkled skin between his furrowed brows, but he caught it and pressed his thumb into the center of my palm.

"And you thought I was about to break up with you before I showed up in Kerry. I'm sick," he seethed as his eyes welled with emotion, "of us both fearing the other is about to bolt."

"Well clearly if I'm agreeing to move in with you, I'm not about to break up with you," I countered in a near whisper.

"You know what I mean."

I did. And I could see in his eyes all of the loneliness and hurt he had been trying to conceal with his nights out with Charlie and brave-faced smiles.

It killed me to see it, and it killed me even more to know he had been living with it for all the time I had been gone.

"I know—" I started, but stopped. I lowered my eyes to our cupped hands and tried again. "I know I haven't been the most..."

I rolled my eyes.

"I know I'm guarded, and I know that isn't easy but I love you and I'm trying to change that—the guarded bit," I hastily added, "not the loving you bit, which admittedly does not feel like a 'bit'."

Tom's hand squeezed mine. "Emma, I—"

"No, let me say this." I could feel through his touch and the electricity in the air between us that Tom had to physically restrain himself from bursting. "I love you," I plowed on. "And I-I want to give you the world because you make me so indescribably happy but I'm not—I can't—" I briefly closed my eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath. "I'm not as brave as you are about jumping into things."

I opened my eyes again and smiled at Toms' lips rolled tightly together between his teeth so as to keep from interrupting.

"I love you, I do," I said earnestly. "And I don't want to want to hurt you, but I'm not ready to commit to... indefinitely. Not yet."

Tom hesitated, and when he was sure I had finished, slowly worked his lips free. His eyes were locked onto mine as if seeing something perplexing behind their dull brown irises.

"How much time?" He finally asked me.

"Six months," I repeated. "Six months, then we can reassess and see where we go from there."

I could tell he was mentally calculating whether or not to push me on this. Finally, he shook his head. "That's hardly enough time to—"

"Six months is plenty of time for us to figure out if this can work," I said adamantly.

"But six months isn't enough time for you to write your book."

"But it's plenty of time for me to find a job," I countered.

Tom shook his head. "No, we agreed you'd use the time to write."

"I never agreed to anything—" I started again, but he cut me off.

"This is really the hill you're going to die on?"

"I haven't written anything in ages!" I exclaimed, moving to pull my hand from his.

"Then buy a journal and get started!" He rebutted, not letting go.

My mouth fell open as I stared at him.

Tom closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose.

I didn't know what I should say—to Tom at least, I had quite a few things I wanted to say to my apparently loquacious mother—so I closed my mouth and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

"You're wrong," he said at last as he opened his eyes. There was a heaviness to them that I hadn't noticed before, and I wondered if I had always just been blind to it or if this was the first time I'd been allowed to see it.

"You being guarded isn't hard. What's hard is watching you hurting and not being able to support you, not being able to get to you."

My throat constricted as a mixture of empathy and guilt twisted my stomach into knots.

"I love you, too, Ems." He laughed. "From the moment I saw you light up when you spoke about Sophia le Guarde that night in Flannigan's, I knew immediately that I was crazy about you and just hoped that someday you might look at me like you look at your books."

He exhaled a short breath and the heaviness shifted slightly, yet perceptively. "This is the time for us to take chances, remember?"

I held his gaze and then nodded once. "Fine... but still six months."

"Emma—"

"It's enough time," I said, emphasizing my words with a squeeze of my hand.

"Besides," I added with a conspiratorial grin, "we both know I'll procrastinate without a tight deadline."

Tom laughed at that and nodded in acquiescence.

"No rent, six months, and a book manuscript," I summarized as I leaned in for a kiss. "Anything else?"

Tom's lips fluttered against mine before trailing across my jaw and down along my jugular. "Alimony," he murmured just below my ear.

I pushed him off of me. "That's not funny."

"I'm not kidding," he shrugged as he settled against the headboard and attempted to pull me onto him.

"Tom..." I said in warning.

His eyes lifted to mine and I could see in them no heaviness, just loving candor.

"Emma, I don't want you to ever feel trapped in a relationship with me."

A part of me wanted to bite back that the offer made me sound like a prostitute. But it was quieted by a shy, yet sure voice that assured me it wouldn't matter for in the case of alimony, we would never come to it.

Tom's hand slid to my forearm and gave it a gentle tug. I acquiesced, appreciating his stipulation for the loving gesture that it was.

Without my asking, Tom had inserted not only a monetary but also an emotional safety net for me to fall back on ensuring that the choice to stay or leave would always be mine.

And as I leaned back into his broad chest, I smiled in the knowledge that, as honorable as the gesture was intended, I no longer needed such a safety net.

Tom wasn't Patrick. He wasn't someone who would try to control me or hurt me. He was safe; he was my support; he was...

"Home," I murmured as Tom wrapped his arms across my chest and snuggly held me to him.