✓ | GOLDEN LIAR ↠ Thomas Shelby.

20.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

               BLACK STAR DAY. THE day of which Tommy had warned her would arrive far sooner than either of the pair wanted it to. The day that he had first alerted her to on that day when the pair sat in the field with the weak winter sun throwing pale lemon yellow beams upon their skin, warming their cheeks but only barely. And now that day had come and the golden―haired girl did not know what to expect, what to think, what to even hope for.

Taking out Billy Kimber would make it easier for Tommy to do the same to her father, she knew that, although there was a part of her that wished he was not so adamant on going after two of the most well―known and respected men of all of Birmingham. If it was to go wrong ― which she did not know whether or not it would, as the gangster had insisted on keeping her out of it all as he claimed she had already been pulled in deep enough ― then the odds of her losing the man she had grown to love would grow to be far higher than she would ever hope them to be.

She couldn't bear to even entertain the notion that this day had the smallest possibility of her looking at Thomas Shelby lying in the streets ― his ego, his intelligence, his ambition finally defeated. So instead she kept her thoughts amused by the man who sat opposite her, nursing a prolonged headache by, for once, tipping back a glass of lukewarm, tepid water rather than a crystal full of sparkling amber whiskey.

"How long until. . .?" Felicity asked, trailing off before she had the chance to finish her question. There was no need for her to, anyway, as the man knew the words that lingered on her tongue but refused to spill over her lips. Silent syllables that insisted on remaining between the pair of them, pulling out tensions that they hadn't noticed to even exist.

"Four hours."

"And you're sure everything will go to plan?"

Tommy rolled his eyes as he dangled the glass lazily from his grip. "Fewer questions," he sighed, although even he had enough of his own emotions to sense the ones that had grown upon the girl. "It'll all be fine ― believe me, Lis."

Not even the affectionate use of the nickname could thaw the fear that resided in Felicity's being, but she smiled weakly in an attempt to convince him that it did. "I just worry," she sighed in a defeatist's response, as she knew perfectly well that he believed he could do this all alone. And perhaps he could: perhaps Felicity was overthinking, or micromanaging, or building up all of her stress and allowing it to flood the space between them. Tommy wasn't a fool ― she knew that.

If only that was enough to stop her worrying, though. 

Men filed into the house before she had a chance to argue ― to protest that everything wasn't fine, that she knew there was a possibility everything could go wrong with the bat of a single eye lid ― and it was then that Tommy stood up from the table, dropped the glass upon its wooden top and pulled at his suit jacket so that it fitted more comfortably. 

"Come on," he nodded his head towards the double green doors, where Polly had stepped through with a grim expression upon her face before she wiped it clean, so that not an ounce of emotion was present on it. At the sight of her discontent, concern grew upon Felicity faster than she could have recognised it to, but she knew that asking unwelcome questions would get her nowhere with the older woman. Instead, Felicity followed Tommy to the front of the betting shop, where he awaited the others to settle.