Sorry it's been a while everyone, I was busy with final exams and general life stuff. I made this chapter quite long as a thanks for waiting, and to reward anyone watching the new series of Peaky since it's quite bleak at the moment. Thank you so much for reading, please never hesitate to let me know your thoughts! xx
So, in this chapter I mention most of the songs except for a couple. Sometimes mentioning the song names or band names works, and sometimes it doesn't. But even if I don't mention it, the songs will always be in chronological order to match the story. If I mention music in any way without name-dropping, it's just the next song on the list, if you are in fact listening. Same goes for playlists or italicized lyrics, it's just the one next song, not multiple. The two Parov Stelar songs are the two swing songs that play at the racetrack. If that makes no sense please let me know! xx
Intro - The XX
Michicant - Bon Iver
What You Know - Two Door Cinema Club
View From The Afternoon - The Arctic Monkeys
Down With the Trumpets - Rizzle Kicks (If anyone wants me to make John's "party playlist", I shall!)
Booty Swing - Parov Stelar
Demon Dance - Parov Stelar
Ceremony - New order
Grace rubbed her bloodshot eyes and stared at the clock. 3:27 A.M. Michael and Grace sat on her and Tommy's living room floor, surrounded by files, highlighters, and their laptops. It was now Friday, the Derby a little over 24 hours away. The house was dark, except for the high chandelier, casting a warm glow that was making Grace more tired than she already was. Even Tommy had gone to bed already. Michael stared at the big screen TV, mouth hanging open unattractively. "Do you think Jon Snow is really dead?"
"No. Push the hummus over here." Grace reached for the dip in vain.
He obliged, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back to his laptop.
They worked in comfortable silence for another half hour before Michael got up and cracked the balcony door to smoke a cigarette. Grace stretched her arms over her head and stared into the chandelier which tinkled lightly in the breeze from the open door.
"Okay I'm doing this last page and then going to bed, do you want to stay in one of the guest rooms?" Grace asked.
"Nah I won't be able to sleep anyway, I'm going back to the office to finish these."
"Christ, Michael. You need to sleep." Grace sighed and turned her attention back to the page, mindlessly looking at the numbers until something jumped out at her. Her brow scrunched in confusion at the seven thousand pounds sitting in a temporary account, opened three days ago. "What the hell is this? Did you open this account?"
Michael threw his cigarette off the stone porch and shut the door, yawning while shuffling his socks across the carpet, taking the paper from her outstretched hand. His slate gray eyes flicked over it for only a moment before he shook his head. "Tommy did, couple of days ago I guess. He said it's quick money, only to be there for like a week or some shit. Didn't he tell you?"
An ice of irritation jarred Grace's chest and she grabbed the paper from him, eyes on the numbers without actually looking at them. They told each other everything, she didn't understand. Attempting to calm herself, she stared blankly at the page. "Yeah, never mind I see it now, he told me about doing this a few days ago. I must have forgotten." She lied smoothly.
From the start of their relationship, they had sworn to tell each other everything…eventually. Grace had begrudgingly accepted Tommy's stance that some things were better off kept from her until they were resolved, or on better ground. So they had compromised, sealed in post-argument-make-up sex, that Tommy had 3 months to tell her everything. The seven thousand pounds she was blinking her blue eyes at shouldn't have worried her, but it did. They were 100% legal now, and this agreement had been irrelevant for almost a year. What could it possibly be?
Michael picked up their papers while swearing loudly in his increasing anger at Game of Thrones. He slid his shoes on before ruffling Grace's hair where she sat on the floor still, staring out the window, absorbed in her thoughts. "Hey. Are you okay?"
"Fine," She smiled. "Just tired. I'll see you tomorrow. Text me if you want coffee."
"Will do. Tell Tommy about that mistake I found before, yeah? Love you."
"Yeah. Love you too. Drive safe please, if you die I'll bring you back to life and then kill you again." She said with an eyebrow raise.
Michael chuckled and winked at her before darting out her front door.
Grace turned off all the lights before climbing up the left staircase, not trying to wake Tommy up. However, bass from The XX song blasting from Michael's Audi slammed into the night, shaking the two story front windows. "Oh honestly," she whispered to herself.
Tommy rolled over in bed as she creaked their double bedroom doors open, light spilling across his muscular chest, eyes squinting.
"Hey," He murmured, eyes already closed again, arms outstretched to her. Soft music played from the speakers next to their bed, as always, both of them unable to sleep without it. Bon Iver, one of Tommy's favorites, at the moment. "C'mere."
Taking off her clothes as she crossed the room, she slipped into bed and into his outstretched arms, which she was far from immune to resisting. They kissed softly in the dark before Tommy's breathing became deep and even with sleep, her favorite lullaby. Her annoyance faded as she breathed him in. But as Grace got drowsy she couldn't help but think about the seven thousand pounds sitting in an account that Michael knew about and Grace didn't. Repeating a mantra of her trust for Tommy, she fell asleep with her face buried in his neck.
Saturday. Derby day. Grace watched the sun make its entrance over the horizon. Colors sprayed across the sky; blood red, orange, saffron. She rolled over to tap her and Tommy's cigarette in the crystal ashtray.
Tommy's arm slid out from underneath her to slide up her back, damp with morning sex sweat, fingers trailing around the starburst-bullet-scar that distorted her skin. His fingertip slid over the warped circle, moving then to the tattoo that wrapped around it, labeling who it was for. Right on her left shoulder blade, Grace was unable to see it, but Tommy was. To remind him of her love, every day. He'd hated it at first, but Grace knew he'd grown to like it over the years. She would feel his lips press against it in the dark, when he thought she was sleeping, or would fall asleep with his forehead pressed against it.
T.S.
XI. X. MMIX.
The day she took a bullet meant for Tommy's heart. Height differences had their advantages in their kind of relationship. Grace made that joke once but Tommy hadn't found it as funny as she had.
"When did you set an alarm for?" His voice was still husky with sleep. It had sounded even better ten minutes ago, rasping in her ear with need.
"Seven. I'm going back to sleep. Are you leaving with the horses or coming with us?"
"The horses." He said, rolling over after taking the cigarette gently from between Grace's lips. Clearing his throat, he sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes as the sun finally broke over the trees and spilled into their bedroom. Grace watched him as the smoke drifted out of his mouth slowly and made clouds in the sun-rays. Tommy's stress showed as he sat forward, elbows on his knees, back muscles rippling. "Charlie said Persephone started badly out of the box yesterday so him and I are going early to see how she paces. Scud will drive you, Ada, and Meghan to the track."
"My poor baby. Did she throw a shoe?"
"Yes." To anyone else he would have sounded curt, but Grace knew it was just stress, nothing to do with her. Not yet, anyway. The Peaky Blinders had taken the news about the American expansion terribly, as Tommy had predicted. The family was thick with tension and had been all week, and that was hardest on Tommy. Grace had left him alone about what she had seen, knowing he needed her. But her tension was building all the same.
Slinking across their pure-white sheets, Grace leaned up on her knees behind Thomas, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts into his back, while planting a kiss on his cheek. She smashed her lips into his face repeatedly with fervor until he smiled, although barely. He held their cigarette up so she could take it. Claiming it between her teeth, she pushed her lips past the tip of the Parliament to kiss Tommy's fingertips before pulling away from him to lay back on their down pillows.
Grace balanced on the fence of wanting to say something while Tommy got up and crossed the room to their closet. She had been placing faith in the trust they had built their relationship on for the past twenty-four hours, knowing he would tell her eventually, but she was still herself, and couldn't resist.
"Do you have business today, Thomas?" Her Irish accent light. Too light.
Tommy sighed and ran his hand quickly through his undercut. "Not now Gracie, I need coffee."
Grace tensed and annoyance flooded her. This was unlike him, to be distant from her. Even if he did have to tell her things later, he always at least told her he would tell her later. Especially on a race day, and when all was supposedly well. Supposedly.
"Alright. We'll talk later." She snipped. He ignored her. She rolled over to rub out their cigarette. "Just open the-
"Window?" Tommy winked at her, standing by the window already as he slid it upwards.
Grace refused to acknowledge his sudden change of mood, and curled under their duvet as the cold breeze blew over her. Tommy strode over to her side of their bed, and brushed his lips against her temple.
"I'm sorry. I'll be better after today. We'll talk, okay? We always do Gracie, you know that. I just want you to have fun today. I'm going to shower. Go back to sleep. Text me when you get to the track, and don't forget we have the owner's brunch at 11."
"Mmm." Grace was already dreaming.
Incessant buzzing woke Grace up, accompanied by the signature alarm of her iPhone. Propping herself up, she moved off of Tommy's pillow, reluctantly leaving his scent behind.
The "PEAKY FUCKIN' BLINDERS" group chat had 205 messages. For fuck's sake, she thought. They'd only just left her house 10 hours ago after Friday family dinner. Grace only bothered to read the most recent announcements that appeared on her screen.
Michael: Well fuck you then Finn. Get off your phone and get out of the bathroom. Anyway, who's awake we want to start drinking. Meet at our flat for predrinks? We have brunch at 11.
Meghan: Brunch IS predrinks. Btw, keep your football arguments in the brothers group chat, you annoying fucks. I just woke up to 174 text messages. Who does that? It's 6:30 in the morning. Grace call me when you wake up. Ada you too. Nobody rush, I can't get John's hungover ass out of bed anyway.
Isiah: Meg…football never sleeps. But drinking commences as soon as we wake up on #racedays
Finn: Fuck you too Michael we have more than one bathroom now, it's not 2013 in case you didn't notice. Isiah I hate you for hashtagging that but…#RACEDAYS
Grace laughed and pushed herself up out of bed, FaceTiming Ada first.
Ada's rosy face popped up on her screen, shoving a banana into her open mouth exaggeratingly.
"Ew," Grace laughed. "Are you coming over?"
The picture shook as Ada propped up her phone on her bathroom sink. Grace could see her curling her hair with a wand, the camera cutting off her face above her nose.
"Yeah, I just have to finish getting ready then I'll just Uber to your place, Scud texted me and said he'll drive us to Michael's and then the track. Did Tommy leave with the horses?" Her voice echoed off her bathroom walls.
"Mhm," Grace responded absently, sliding hangers down the rack in her walk-in closet. "What are you wearing?"
"That was one sassy "mhhhmm", you two better not be having a row on race day. I'm wearing that light blue Calvin Klein number that makes me look like a skinny bitch. You?"
"You always look like a skinny bitch. I think I might wear that mint green Valentino." Grace held the satin dress up to her in the mirror, scrunching her brows in brief self-criticism as she ignored Ada's truthful observation about her mood.
"Do it, I love that dress on yo-FUCK. I burned my fuckin' face, I gotta go. Don't bother calling Meghan I already texted her to come to your house first. I'll be over in like 45, yeah?" Ada disconnected, swearing again.
Grace tip-toed across the cold marble floor of their bathroom and turned on the shower, along with some upbeat music in an attempt to excite herself for race day. Singing along to her music, she allowed the hot water to run over her shoulders and undo the knots in her back as she pushed Tommy's business out of her mind.
And I can't say it's what you know
But you've known it the whole time
Yeah you've known it the whole time
Grace, Ada, Meghan and John climbed the stairs to the junior Peakys' flat, the girls' heels echoing off the white walls. The riff from an Arctic Monkeys song rang down from above, harsh in the bright Saturday morning atmosphere.
"Honestly, it's nine in the morning, don't they have neighbors?" Meghan said.
"Yeah, neighbors that are too scared to complain. But apparently no one is scared enough to fix the fuckin' elevator." John got increasingly louder, yelling down the stairs to the doorman they had just passed, poking his wife in the side playfully when she told him to shut up.
Ada's head poked over the banister a floor above them. "John where's Arthur, by the way?"
"He ended up going ahead with Tommy for some reason. He wasn't helping with the horses though so I dunno why he went."
Grace said nothing, blinking quickly before rounding the corner to the next flight of ornate stairs. She had no patience for being left out of things, and when her and Tommy weren't working together they were weak. Ada's blue eyes caught Grace's knowingly and flashed her a look of sympathy before she disappeared and continued up the stairs. Grace felt even more irritated now. She hated sympathy.
They reached the boys' apartment, knocking seemingly a thousand times before a half-dressed Finn opened the door, toothbrush in his mouth and eyes on his phone, ignoring their arrival.
Their junior-bachelor-pad was a mess, which didn't surprise Grace at all. At least it smells good, she thought. Bottles of alcohol lined the tops of their kitchen cupboards in memoriam of good times past, the full ones open on the granite countertop representing the ones about to be had. Their dark gray walls were lined with movie posters and framed jerseys of their favorite football players, some of them autographed. Their TV was almost the size of one of their walls, and their sunken living room was littered with Xbox controllers, half-smoked joints, and schoolwork. An interesting combination.
Isiah waltzed into the living room with a spin, Bloody Mary in hand, wearing a khaki suit with no shoes or socks. "Boys? Too early for a summer suit? Yay? Nay?"
"Nah, bruv, wear the Tom Ford." Michael glanced up lazily from his spot on the leather couch before turning his attention to John who was loudly inquiring about the champagne supply.
"The Tom Ford is too dark, wear this one." Said Finn, shaking his head and mumbling through his toothbrush. "Race days are summer suit days."
"Thought so, motherfuckers." Isiah yelled down the hallway as he headed back to his room.
Grace hopped up to sit on the counter with Meghan while Ada made them mimosas, bouncing her heel off the cabinet while she thought. Thankfully the boys were being loud as always about some football match and Meghan's inquiry went unnoticed. "Are you and Tommy having a row?"
"No, we're fine. Don't worry, today will be fun." Grace squeezed Meghan's freckled arm fondly with a reassuring smile, keeping her thoughts to herself.
Meghan laughed an all-too-knowing laugh and passed Grace her champagne flute. "Christ. Nobody's a match for Tommy Shelby except for you."
"Don't I know it." Grace smirked.
Loud crashing and swearing came from Isiah's room followed by a sheepish "…Can someone make me another Bloody Mary? Preferably Grace, since her Irish bartending skills make her drinks stronger than petrol?"
Grace laughed hard as she slid off the counter and sauntered to the other side, Louboutin's clicking the floor gently. "I'll go easy, I've almost killed you all on accident more than once with my drinks. We do need to last all day, after all."
"That's what playing in the snow is for." Michael said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Oh, honestly," Ada groaned. "Did Tommy tell you it was okay?"
"Please, Ada, Tommy doesn't give a fuck what we do now that we're legal. HASHTAG RACEDAYS!" Finn yelled, his contagious laughter dragging everyone else in as well.
John turned the music up as it crashed into his party playlist over the flat's Bluetooth ceiling speakers, and Grace let herself enjoy her family, remembering that all Tommy did, he did for them.
Two hours and more than enough predrinks later the group raucously poured out of the Shelby Range Rover onto Cheltenham's private owners driveway, and Scud handed the valet the keys with a warning glance.
The private side of Cheltenham's racetrack was grand and lush looking, and it always reminded Grace of Versailles. The grand staircase that led to the floor where the owner's boxes were was wide and commanded the lobby, with blood-red carpet and brass banisters. Well-dressed members of the track walked here and there, the sound of silk dresses rustling running under the modern swing music that Tommy had convinced the board to play over the speakers on race days because it was Grace's favorite. She remembered sneaking in here with Tommy years ago, her young eyes wide as they pretended they had belonged. It seemed so long ago now, in a good way.
"Meghan and I are going to the ladies, do you need to go?" Ada asked, Meghan already pulling her towards the gilded door.
Grace shook her head and waved them on. "Go ahead, I want to find Tommy."
The girls bounced away towards the bathrooms as the boys headed for the downstairs bar. Grace pretended to forget that Tommy had asked her to text him when she got there, choosing to serve her own agenda instead. She headed towards the ballroom, echoing music, laughter, and clinking glasses calling her closer. After giving her name at the door she walked down the short hallway to the entrance, lights, people, and music overwhelming her for a brief moment. Pastel dresses swirled around the dance floor to the swing music while waiters rushed back and forth with food and drinks. It was a beautiful ballroom, with walls of all glass and large crystal chandeliers hanging from the high domed ceiling. Plants lined the walls and hung from every corner, and vines of flowers wrapped around the large marble columns that stood around the room. The racetrack loomed outside of the far window, the bright grass of the green infield popping next to the beige oval.
Grace gave her best cordial wave to the people she knew, eyes flicking away quickly as to not get pulled into a conversation yet. Scanning the crowd, she found Tommy's tall figure and signature haircut across the room, talking to two other dark-haired men in nice suits. Grace edged her way around the dancing crowd, satin dress billowing behind her as she walked up behind him and slipped her arm through his.
"Hello darling, sorry I'm late." Grace said with a wide smile before planting a quick kiss on Tommy's freshly shaven cheek.
"Early, actually, love." Tommy put a hand on the small of her back, ignoring the brief tension between them as he cleared his throat and introduced her, "Grace, this is Harry & Gregory Williamson, they run a business together and we were just talking about some of our upcoming American ventures."
"Am I early? I hadn't noticed," she lied. Grace gave the sharply dressed men a quick once over and confirmed her assumption that they were partners in more than just business. Giving them a warm smile, she introduced herself. "Grace Burgess, a pleasure to meet you."
"What a beautiful thing you are, Tommy mentioned that you'll have a ring on your finger soon. It's nice to meet another power couple." said Gregory, after introducing himself. He gave her a quick wink and Grace laughed along with Henry, squeezing Tommy's arm.
"That's what I've been teased with, yes." Grace was sure Tommy's hand could have been burning a hole through her dress. Tommy said nothing as he scanned the room for something or someone, and Grace internally cringed at the silence while keeping her smile unwavering.
"Well…we'll leave you two alone, Grace please stop by our table later. Lovely to meet you." Henry piped up, cutting the tension. Grace let them kiss her hand before they turned to walk away.
"Can you at least pretend to listen? What is wrong with you?" Grace hissed through her teeth, smile still wide as she waved back at Sir Hutton's (very young) apparent new "au pair", code for mistress.
Tommy's hand quickly shifted to Grace's arm as the music changed, moving her smoothly into a corner by the bar, his other hand waving to the bartender. "I told you to text me when you got to the track."
"My phone died." Grace retorted raising one eyebrow sarcastically, knowing that Tommy knew she was lying. Of course.
"Your phone died at 10 A.M., Grace?" Tommy's eyes were on fire, but at least they had a touch of amusement for their banter.
"I'm telling you, these iPhones get bigger but the batteries get smaller. So, how are the horses?"
Tommy grabbed a champagne for Grace off a waiter passing by, ignoring her question that was just for show anyway. As he turned back to her his eyes caught whoever he had been looking for before, and his eyes took on a whole new kind of burning. "Listen, I have something to do, but I'll meet you and everyone else right before the race."
"What are you talking about? What about brunch? I-"
"Grace, please, I seriously need to go, okay? Fuck these people and the brunch, text everyone to meet you in our box and I'll have it delivered there. I have to go, the boys just got here."
Grace flared, she couldn't keep this up anymore. "What is going on? What are you keeping from me?" She was thankful they were in a corner and no one could hear them, or see the Irish bursting in her face in a dark-pink blush.
Grabbing her shoulders Tommy spun Grace around quickly, resting his chin on her shoulder and pointing ahead at an older man in a tuxedo with salt and pepper hair.
"I have a meeting with that man. It's more American business. Business and I need to get it over with toda- "
Grace turned back to him briskly, champagne sloshing on her silk glove. "How nasty is this business? Are you trying to give me an anxiety attack? Thomas Michael Shelby-"
Cupping her face, Tommy shook her face slightly before cutting her off, his voice harsh "Grace, I seriously have to do this right now. I swear on everything Gracie, it's not nasty business like you think. I love you but we are talking about this later." Without looking at her again, Tommy walked away, straightening his tie. John, Arthur, and Michael were already on their way across the carpeted dining area, heading towards the same nasty business Tommy was with a swagger.
Quietly raging, Grace didn't waste a moment standing at the scene of their semi-noticeable argument, and quickly ducked through the entrance to the kitchen, pretending to be lost when harshly accented voices chided her. Back in the lobby, she stepped into an empty space between the regal columns and stared at the painted ceiling while attempting to slow her beating heart. The taste of metal crept into her mouth as she tried not to flashback, tried not think about what had happened the last time Tommy had nasty business. After breathing long and slow for a while, she pulled her phone out and dialed Ada.
"We're skipping the brunch. Come to our box. I'm doing some drinking today." Her voice echoed, apparently on speakerphone, and she heard Isiah and Finn whoop loudly in the background as she carried her confident frame up the grand staircase.
"He's just so fuckin' selfish sometimes, you know?" Grace slurred, elbow resting on Ada's shoulder as she stuffed another salmon puff in her mouth. The girls and Arthur, who had just returned from Tommy's mysterious business, were sprawled on the cream colored couch of their box's parlor. They faced the glass wall that looked out over the race track, which was now full as the start grew closer.
"I know, I know. I so know, I so know." Ada hiccupped. She sat on the floor, leaned back on Arthur's legs, staring out the window at the infield with her mouth open slightly, flicking the straw of her now empty drink around with her tongue.
Meghan, who had her legs across Grace and Arthur's laps was drunkenly humming along to the New Order song coming from their box's personal speakers as she texted someone that Grace assumed was John, furiously. Waving to the waiter that was serving them, she piped up "Can we get some more champagne? I need another drink before I go make out with my husband in whatever broom closet he's apparently waiting for me in like an idiot."
"Ugh, gross, you guys always do this." Ada squealed.
"Certainly, Mrs. Shelby." The well-groomed man nodded his head towards Meghan and stepped out through the service entrance with a slight smirk.
Arthur high-fived Meghan with a hoarse laugh before turning to Grace. "You're gonna be a Mrs. Shelby soon, y'know"
"You know something, Arthur, you're the second person to say something about that to me today. I'll be Mrs. Shelby if I don't kill your brother before I can get there." The sentence came out more aggressive than she meant it to and she shrugged at herself.
Arthur nudged her semi-reassuringly, as reassuring as Arthur Shelby could be, at least. "Easy there drunky, ease up on him. The business ain't as bad as you think it is. It went real fuckin' well today alright? He's gonna tell you about it. You know how he is."
Breaking glass and a burst of laughter ended their conversation as Finn's glass hit the gold striped wallpaper, Isiah having had dodged it nimbly. Unconcerned with their usual obnoxiousness, Grace lifted Meghan's legs off of her. "I need some air; I'll be back before the race starts."
Stumbling slightly, she walked into the narrow hallway that all the owner's box's stemmed off of, scratching her head and trying to remember if the veranda was to the left or to the right. Grace picked the right and walked mindlessly. The hallway emptied slowly as she heard the familiar call of the trumpets, signaling the start of the race.
Tommy suddenly appeared at the end the hallway, turning on his heel quickly as he picked up his speed after rounding the corner. Spotting her, his eyebrows raised in half-amusement, half-annoyance as he took in the weave of Grace's walking. She melted slightly, he was too handsome for his own good. Picking up her pace, she walked towards him, just wanting to forget their fight and enjoy the race.
"How many drinks have you had?" So much for my melting, Grace thought, his question and tone raising her attitude again.
"Why should I tell you? You don't tell me things."
The gunshot fired at the starting line, and a speeding voice over the speakers began the commentary of the race.
And they're off!
"Christ, Grace. You've always picked your times. I'm going to tell you. You know I'm going to tell you, when have I not eventually told you? Where the fuck is this coming from?"
"Well," she clipped "You keep saying you're going to tell me but you don't, so…" Grace threw her hands up slightly, and she saw Tommy try to hold in his chuckle at her influenced state.
Any Luck has a strong start, with No Sense or Sensibility close behind coming up on the inside!
"Don't you laugh at me Thomas Michael."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Can we please go watch the race Gracie, please?" He grabbed her hands and brought them to his chest, sharp eyes pleading with her. Grace stared back at him, briefly mesmerized by the small oceans she never could grow tired of. The truth was in there somewhere, and she felt it.
"Tell why there's 7,000 pounds sitting in a temporary account."
Pressing his forehead to hers he scrunched his eyes shut and groaned. "You weren't supposed to see that. Please, Gracie, can we talk about this when you're sober?"
Dandy Flower and Young Blood passing into the middle of the field now, flying by Castle Black!
"I wasn't supposed to see it? What is this, Thomas? Can I not know about this because it's illegal? Are we going backwards? After all we've been through?" Grace's voice rose and she pulled her hands out of his grasp.
"Jesus Christ." Tommy stared at the floor, now pressing his fingers on his temples, but Grace didn't slow down.
Coming up on the inside, passing the front-runners in the home stretch is Persephone Season!
"I'm sorry okay, Thomas? But when I see that much money moving that quickly in and out in a week-"
"You wanna know what the fucking money is for, Grace?" Tommy's volume rose to drown out her voice and Grace stared at him expectantly, waving her hands in the air again impatiently.
Persephone has it! She has it!
"It's for your fucking ring,Grace. It's for your fucking ring. I'm buying it this week. Was supposed to be a bloody fuckin' surprise." He muttered the last part, flashing his eyes in annoyance.
A stupid smile of disbelief crossed her face and she was sure her heart exploded. Grace dropped her empty champagne glass, it hit the carpet without a sound. "Wh-what?"
"Yeah. Okay? Ya fucking happy now? Honestly. Women, for fuck's sake." He muttered to himself again, pulling a cigarette out for them to share.
Grace reached forward with a squeal and smacked the cigarette out of his hands before throwing her arms around his neck, watching his irritation instantly fade with her in his arms. "Damn you, Thomas Shelby."
It's Persephone Season by a long shot! Persephone Season wins!
Tommy slammed his lips into hers as the crowd exploded, and dipped Grace over until her hair brushed the floor. Their family's yelling rang down the hallway, louder than anyone else's as usual. Grace felt the celebration in her bones as her and Tommy laughed into each other's mouths, thinking that the stadium could have exploded and they wouldn't have noticed.