Falling at His Feet -- Again!

Not again. Much as I’ve been hoping…
 
Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.
 
“Amy? Is that you? Are you okay?”
 
Santa, send the reindeer! Get me out of here!
 
“T…Thomas?”
 
“Are you okay? What happened?”
 
“I didn’t notice the roots.”
 
He frowns. “Yeah, oak trees are great, just not for sidewalks.”
 
“Right.”
 
He’s wearing sweats – like me! Only his are blue while mine are gray. Or are those joggers? Is there a difference? Whatever. He looks…cuddly.
 
“Are you hurt? Can you stand?”
 
“My hands are a little scraped up, but I’m fine.  I can definitely stand. It’s walking that seems to be a problem for me.”
 
His laugh is a surprisingly deep, delicious rumble. And those eyes…
 
He holds out a hand and I grab hold with first one, then both of mine.
 
Déjà vu?