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"I'm home!" I call as I open the door wide, quickly sitting my bags on the floor when I hear a telltale clicking sound coming from the kitchen. Soft, high whimpers of excitement head closer as I quickly push the door shut and crouch to the ground, readying myself. In the next second a whirlwind bundle of fur hurtles into me, tail wagging so fast as to be almost a blur, long pink tongue licking warm, wet slobber all over every inch of my exposed skin. He's beyond excited to see me and my heart melts. "Hello, Bobby McGee," I croon, picking him up into my arms. His tongue doesn't cease its attack on my neck. "I missed you too, handsome boy," I tell him.
"Hmphf," Tom intones, quietly joining us. "I've never been jealous of a dog before."
"Awww," I smile, rising to my feet and taking a couple of steps further into the hallway. "I missed you too, my other handsome fella." He's casually dressed in worn jeans and a zippered hoodie, his hair mussed and his glasses on, looking so incredibly sexy that other parts of me begin melting too. With Bobby still wriggling excitedly in my arms, we can't do more than exchange a quick kiss, but it's potent enough to send that familiar warm zing throughout my central nervous system.
"Welcome home, darling," Tom says quietly.
"It's lovely to be back." I give him another quick kiss then look down to Bobby, now beginning to calm. "Did you eat all your dinner tonight?" I'd been away only four days, but each night when I called, Tom had told me Bobby wouldn't eat properly.
"He really wasn't interested," Tom says, reaching out to scratch Bobby behind one big, floppy ear.
"Well," I say, putting him down on the floor, "let's see if you'll eat now I'm back." I point towards the kitchen, where his food bowl is located. "Bobby, dinner." Thankfully, he scampers off happily enough, and I give a small sigh of relief.
Now that my arms are empty, I'm enveloped into a warm hug. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as Tom's familiar scent surrounds me. When I open them again he's pulled me so close I can practically hear his heartbeat and my own makes a brief stutter before starting again, almost in sync. My arms lock around his neck while his hold me firmly against him, one on my lower back and the other smoothing my hair. I look into his quiet blue eyes and see something that stops the words I'd been about to utter, changing them to a query. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he claims.
I search his gaze deeper, bringing one hand down to rest on his chest. "Tom, your heart's pounding." An expression I don't recognise flits so quickly across his features I could almost believe I imagined it.
Almost.
My own heart is now racing and every ounce of fluid in my mouth dries instantly. When he moves one hand to rake fingers through his hair then over the raspy scruff dotting his jaw, I notice a slight tremor. Apprehension slithers a chill down my spine. "Sweetheart?" I don't know whether to be worried or scared, whether to pull him closer or push myself away.
"I..."
It's so unlike him to be bereft of words. That hand, though, is now scrubbing the back of his neck - a sure sign of nerves, one I've seen many times over the course of the year we've been together, though the first since I moved in with him a month ago.
Shit.
"Tom, you're scaring me. Whatever it is...whatever's wrong...I'm here. We'll face it together, we'll beat it, or find a solution for it, or...oh hell, I don't know. Whatever you need. Please just tell me..."
I'm sure my eyes have widened in the alarm I'm having trouble subduing. My own hands are beginning to tremble, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I try to search for the equilibrium I felt only moments ago. The colour in Tom's cheeks recedes then rushes back, leaving him flushed and flustered. His eyelids drop briefly, causing further alarm at the idea he's hiding something from me. Something important, perhaps life-changing.
Just as I'm about to clutch at his clothing and beg him to tell me what's going on, he releases his hold of me and sinks slowly to the floor.
On one knee.
His eyes hide nothing now. My heart stutters again.
"Meg, I love you with a depth I hadn't dreamed possible, that goes far beyond what mere words can express. If you let me, I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I adore you. Will you marry me?"
In one of those surreal moments that happen infrequently, time seems to stand still yet move at lightning speed at the same time. My brain runs through a list of Tom's qualities, as though searching for reasons to justify a positive response. My heart, however, isn't listening to logic or reason. The well of love that I feel for this man - this good man, in every sense of the word - which I already thought filled that organ to its maximum capacity, now swells and expands, seemingly set on completely overflowing and I know for certain I cannot possibly contain this much emotion in one frail body. Cannot contain this much love. It simply has to tumble out of me, and it takes the form of a single word.
"Yes."
Before Tom can say anything, do anything; before I can even think of moving, Bobby comes racing back from the kitchen, gives an exuberant 'woof', and leaps on Tom, catching him off balance and tumbling them both to the floor. I burst out laughing and Tom soon catches my giggles.
"It seems Bobby approves," he smiles, ruffling Bobby's fur and patting him on the head before setting him back on his feet and rising to his own. I reach a hand out to him and he takes it in his own, intertwining our fingers and once more drawing me close. His firm lips meet mine, a kiss of promise and commitment, and I kiss him back with the same.
""Looks like you're stuck with us then," I murmur. "Me and Bobby McGee."
