Lion and Lace [Tom Hiddleston]

Four years later

Tom

Bec pops out two of the painkillers from her bag and swallows them with a glass of water, wincing as she pushes her bowl of muesli away.

"Don't look at me like that," she says softly, eyeing me sideways. "I have an appointment next week, I called them yesterday."

I have to give credit where it's due, she's better at calling the hospital at the first sign of a problem rather than wait until it's unbearable like the first time. It worries me that she only had her last procedure six months ago, though. The time between has grown steadily shorter since the first four years ago.

"I was just worrying about you." I reach over for her hand and I'm rewarded with a warm smile. The sparkle in her eyes takes my breath away, even after all this time. "Will you be all right for tonight? We can skip the red carpet if you like, sneak in the side door."

"Thomas Hiddleston I did not spend all that money on a dress for no one to see it. We're doing the red carpet."

"Ok," I surrender with a laugh.

She's quiet for a while, sipping her tea and moving her chair to rest her head on my shoulder.

"I was thinking about that new treatment we talked about."

"Where they try to repair it more permanently?"

"Yeah. It means a lot longer at home and out of action. I thought I'd organise it for when you're in Spain."

"Who'll look after you, though?"

"I can look after myself, I'm a big girl. I'll join you when it's done."

I know she has a good support system in London if she has to stay at home for a while, but worrying about us being apart too much is a difficult habit to break. When Prue fell pregnant with the twins two years ago she and Bec decided to fold Lion and Lace, and she moved on to freelance work so we could travel together.

The sacrifice is something I'll never repay, although she loves seeing new places and thrives on having diverse projects on the go. Being able to be together the majority of the time, behave like a regular couple who eat breakfast together, and have her there when I come 'home' at night – wherever that may be – is something I never thought I'd have.

"OK. If you're sure."

"I'll talk to the doctor about it next week, you can come along if you like."

She's learned to communicate better too, although I know it doesn't come naturally. She'll have tossed this idea around in her mind for at least a day or so before telling me, and I know she probably considered just doing it while I'm away without mentioning it.

"Send it to me and I'll make sure I'm there."

"It's already in your calendar, you know the shared one?"

"The one I don't look at because it makes me dizzy?"

"That's the one," she laughs. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I pull her against me and kiss the top of her head. "I was thinking about your birthday."

"Toooom," she whines. "Isn't a week with our families enough?"

I'm sure, buried deep down in her most traumatic memories, Bec must have had a birthday party when she was young and no one came. She hates them with the same passion that I love them, and while she's in her element organising huge celebrations for mine she barely tolerates the acknowledgement of hers. The first year we were together she didn't even tell me it had passed without any celebration and I only demanded to know the date after Rachel let slip that it had been and gone.