Stolen Heart [Tommy Shelby x OC]

Chapter 52

Sometime later, when Lily was snuggled close to him with her head on his arm, he asked, 'Why did you name him Oliver?'

She looked at him in distaste, 'You're talking about children. Now, of all times?'

'Tell me.' He prodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

'I was reading the book Oliver Twist when I was pregnant and I liked it.'

'You couldn't find a better book? Or a better name?'

She continued as if he hadn't interrupted, 'He was an orphan and I wanted to give him a better life. I know it's funny but-', she stopped and made a vague gesture in the air, afraid he would laugh at her.

'It's not.' He shook his head.

'It is a good book. You should read it.'

He made a dismissive sound and bent forward to take out a cigarette from his coat.

'All this smoking is extremely harmful.' She said, trying to keep the sheets in place as he lit the stick dextrously.

'Stop being my mother.' He pointed the stick at her.

'Who was your mother, Tommy?'

'She was a good woman.' He said and wished she wouldn't ask more.

'Do you still miss her?'

'Sometimes.'

'I think you have her eyes.' She said as she made herself more comfortable on his chest.

'How do you know that?' He looked down at her.

'Well, Polly has brown eyes so I thought your father -'

'I got it.' He stopped her family tree expansion, trying not to focus on the swell of her breasts which were resting on his chest.

'They are beautiful.'

'Yeah.' He said distractedly.

'Tommy! I'm talking about your eyes, they are beautiful.' She laughed.

'Not a word a man of my age would like to be described by.'

'It is the truth. Ask anyone.' She said as she wrapped herself in the sheets and searched for her chemise. Only for him to pull it out from under his back and suspend it by his fingers, his face bereft of any expression.

'Thank you.' She muttered and hurried to put it on, hoping he didn't see her bare skin. Which was a little ridiculous considering she had just slept with him.

'Do you know your mother?' He asked after she was back in her position on the narrow bed.

'I know about her. She was a priest's daughter. Fell in love with the wrong man, bore his child out of wedlock and died during childbirth.'

'I didn't know that.' He lowered his brows; he hadn't expected her to answer it.

'The nuns told me when I disobeyed them.' She said nonchalantly.

'What did you do?' He asked, wondering how she would've been as a child. If she had the same pugnacity, same sharp-tongue.

'I refused to pray. Because if there was a God, I wouldn't be an orphan. And living with those vicious creatures.' She gritted out and he decided her anger at his threat was justified. She obviously had a tough life in the orphanage or she wouldn't have named their son after something so tragic.

'If there was a God, there wouldn't have been a war.'

Her face softened and she kissed his cheek, 'I know death's the worst thing that can happen to anybody but you have to stay strong. For your children, for your family.'