Us for Life - Feltson

Chapter 1

"Lots of people do just that," he said. "Especially women with brilliant careers, like yours. It makes sense."

She groaned and set her hat on the sand beside her.

Tom took off his sunglasses and patted her bare head. "Right. Let's be serious. Let's sort this out, rationally." He seemed to interrupt himself. "What a state you're in, Watson, where you have to come to me for instruction on how to be rational."

She groaned again. "It's true. But go on."

"So you're getting serious about starting a family," he began. "That's not at all inappropriate. You're financially and emotionally stable. Established career. Humanitarian. You're mature -- "

The word made her whimper but he went on anyway.

"All you need is some genetic material to add to your own et voila -- the next generation is underway. Now, the next thing is, who are you dating?" he said.

She groaned again.

"Hmm?" he pressed. "Who is it? Have our excellent tabloids let us down? Is Emma Watson dating someone without their detecting it? Because I skim the headlines whenever I'm in the shops and I haven't seen a word about it. So who is he, Em?" His voice was growing louder. "Why doesn't anyone know who he is? Has the paparazzi failed us? Have they -- "

She lunged toward him, her hand covering his mouth, her palm upbraided by the scruff on the edge of his lips. "Will you shut it?"

He laughed into his chest, muttering an apology behind her hand.

"I am currently single," she admitted as she sat back. "And I'm glad I never had a baby with anyone I've been with before. This isn't about regret. Men -- they come and go. They're lovely but they just don't last."

His posture stiffened but his voice stayed light. "So it's women then?"

"No," she said. "That's not what I mean."

His whole body loosened again. "Good -- I mean, that would be fine but -- well, as long as you still like men, even blokes like me still have a chance."

She scoffed. "Don't you try that humble scorned suitor act with me, Thomas Felton. You know that's not -- "

"Anyway," he interrupted. "So baby with no boyfriend, no girlfriend. What is it then? Anonymous sperm donor?"

She gave a long, loud sigh. "I'm seriously considering it. But it's a medical procedure and the drugs that come with it are no joke. And even if it does work, single-parenting is hard. I have no delusions about that. But parenting isn't supposed to be easy, right? It'd be easier with a partner, wouldn't it?"

"A self partner?"

"Shut up. You know exactly what drove me to say that."

"Sorry." He palmed the top of her head again.

"I mean," she went on, "everything would depend completely on who the partner was, I suppose. It could very well be easier without one. I don't know. I just don't know. I'd like to make the decision to have a baby with someone after a long, rewarding relationship. But at my age, that's not really a luxury I have anymore. If I want to be a mother before I'm 40, I'd know the father for four years at the longest before we'd have to start trying to conceive. And that's if I met him today."

Tom was sitting beside her, listening almost idly as he buried his own bare feet in the sand. "Unless he was someone you already knew," he said.

She turned to look at him, watching him in silence for a moment. He wasn't offering -- was he? 

"Tom?"

"Yeah?" He was unearthing his feet, brushing the sand from them.

"What -- what do you think?" It was the most probing question she could bring herself to ask him, as she sat watching his profile -- that nose, the curve of his brow. She could always see it -- the boy he once was, the one who once meant so much to her. 

What if he was offering to father her children? How bad could that be? 

He'd been in her life for decades. She'd always liked him, even through the drama of their teenaged years, and poorly timed crushes, even through the ridiculous pressure of the tabloids and well-meaning friends and the -- what was the word Tom taught her for them -- the Dramione fans. All of that had failed to ruin this. She was still here, sitting next to him, being just herself, no acting. 

"Tom?"

"Oh, I think kids are great. Being an uncle has been tremendous," he said at last. "You've got great kids in your family too. I can see how you'd want that for your very own. Whatever you decide, Em, you've got my support, for what it's worth."

She let out her breath. He hadn't been offering. Of course he hadn't. 

She stood up, gathering her shoes and hat in one hand, and extending her other one to raise him up. "Let's walk. I need one of those cold milk teas before I leave."

He stood beside her. She was so much smaller without her big high-heeled shoes on. And without letting either of them think too much about it, he bent his arms around her shoulders and hugged her, not politely but with feeling, something strong that everyone demanded they name, but which they fought to leave unspoken. She returned the embrace, letting out another one of the long, tense breaths she couldn't stop herself from holding tonight.

"Always so good to see you, Em," he said, speaking into the hair at the crown of her head. "Thanks for thinking of me."