Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chocolate Cherry Brownies and Whiskey to Go

Two days ago, Keegan even released a statement to the press.  She’s hardly a celebrity.  She’s famous by association, and known mostly as Tom’s yoga instructor fiancé.  But, her classes and DVDs are pretty popular, and I’ve heard her sales have skyrocketed since the “scandal” as everyone is calling it.  It makes me sick to think she’s making money off of this.  Off of the fact that she’s been a completely vile, heartless person.

I watched her statement on the shared computer at The Smokey Oyster, one night after I’d stopped by to drop off some pastries.  My mother has finally decided she’ll use Tiny Baker as her breakfast pastry supplier.  Thanks, Mom.   Keegan made her statement to a small group of press.  Her hair was perfectly styled.  She was wearing some sort of slinky white dress that showed off her sculpted shoulders, and wedges that made her already mile long legs look even longer. She was still wearing her engagement ring.  She looked right at the camera and confessed how sorry she was, and how she is still in love with Tom and fully committed to him.  She said it was just a tiny indiscretion and a total lapse in judgment.  It made me so angry to hear her voice.  I had to turn off the computer and go for a run after I watched it.  And I am most definitely not a runner so I just wheezed around the cottage a few times until I felt a bit better.

My mom is still babbling about my cousin’s impending divorce, and so I open my text messages, and find Tom’s name while he’s on my mind.  Though, to be honest, he’s almost always on my mind lately. 

Thinking about you, TW. xooo

I text quickly and then turn off my screen.  I’ve called him twice in the past week.  And this is the fifth text I’ve sent him with no response, and I feel a bit like a stalker but I don’t care.  The first couple were pretty good too:

(1)   I hope you’re not in your boxer shorts in the tub, eating chocolate and crying.  Please say you’re not doing that.  At least not without me.

(2)   Tom, I’m worried about you.  Stop being a sausage and call me, please. I made you lemon drizzle cake.

(3)   If you are still alive, knock once.  If you are dead, knock twice.  If you are existing on a different time and space continuum, don’t do anything.

(4)   I’m pregnant with your baby.  Yours or Jesus’, so please text me back so we can discuss custody.

 “Charlotte, are you listening to me?” Mom’s shrill voice brings me back to earth and I shake Tom out of my head for a moment.

“Yes. Dinner. Laura, Flip and Uncle Phillip. Divorce. Bank lady. Etcetera.” I roll my hands, hoping that we can move on. 

“I’ll let you know when Uncle Phillip wants to have it.” She says, calling her brother “Uncle” even though he’s not her uncle. He’s mine.  It’s sort of weird, but that’s my mother. 

“Okay, fine Mom.”

“Are you alright? You seem distracted.” She asks, and I’m floored.  Shocked.  My mother doesn’t often notice “things” about me.  Things and stuff. 

“Yeah, my friend is having some problems, so I’m just worried about him.” I turn off the mixer and lift up the large bowl. 

“Ah, well, you can invite your “friend” to dinner too, if he’s around.” She automatically jumps to her own conclusions and I let her.  There’s no point in trying to explain to her, or convince her otherwise.

“He’s in California.” I say simply. 

“There are plenty of nice men right here in Maryland.  Men you could settle down with.  Or should have settled down with.” She grumbles, standing up and smoothing out the invisible creases in her pants.  My skin prickles, and I begin hastily scraping the batter out of the bowl and into the pan.  I don’t want to take the bait, I really don’t, but self control isn’t my strong point.