The longer she worked at the Garrison, the more she thought about how her lips would fit with his, and the less she thought about how he fit into her plans for revenge.
His breath tasted like cigarettes and his lips were dry against her own. But his kisses were sweet, and their lips fit together well. Her lipstick was tacky, and when he pulled away he had the stain of it on his teeth. She couldn't help but admire it, as if saying, yes, I was there, the woman who kissed Tommy-fucking-Shelby in churches and hidden rooms. The woman who had got through to his heart. It had never been part of her plan to leave her own vulnerable.
Actually, it had never even been the plan to win his heart, only gain his trust enough that he betrayed his secrets. And there were so many of them. Most of them were secrets he didn't speak aloud, at least not on purpose.
His secrets were held in the glimmer of his eyes when he looked at her, the whispers of a smile when she matched his wit, the strength in his stance as he faced down the world. Things that she thought might be the old Thomas Shelby, raw and real and vulnerable. A man before war. Like a rumpled suit that had been pressed flat but still didn't wear quite right.
Most of his secrets he didn't speak aloud, but some slipped out.
In empty bars, "Already broken."
In hallowed churches, "Do you resign?"
In darkened bedrooms, "I don't hear the shovels."
Pieces of himself he hadn't necessarily meant to share with her began to put together a patchwork doll of a man. The pieces were all Thomas Shelby, but there was no such thing as a cohesive whole where this man was concerned. It was exactly how she felt all the time now, the barmaid, Lady Sarah of Connemara, a whore. She wasn't really any of these things, and the definitions constricted her entire being.
Half of the definitions were foisted upon her by him, and yet, she still felt no need to hold back her words. She was scared of him, yes, but there was so little reason to be kept down by things that scared her, and so much reason to be closer to him.
Her revenge, her feelings, her secrets, and she was so much better at keeping her secrets than he was. It all boiled down to nothing but this:
His lips on hers, the lipstick that marked him hers, and two promises.
His promise to return safely
and
Her promise to break his heart.
They had each lied about many things, but in that instance they both told the truth.
