As always, thank you for reading and thank you for being patient with me. I love you all, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! xx

Bad Habits - The Last Shadow Puppets

St. James Infirmary Blues - The White Stripes

So I Can Grow - Cold Showers

Down by the Water - PJ Harvey

Film Club - Childcare

"So, white hydrangeas then?"

"That sounds perfect, doesn't it love?" Grace said, her reply directed at Tommy, who was looking at his phone underneath their marble dinner table, calloused thumb scrolling through emails until Grace punched his muscled thigh.

Tommy started and blinked his eyes reluctantly onto their wedding planner's massive booklet, clearing his throat with an annoyed, "Yes, flowers."

Grace flushed Irish pink with anger, and embarrassment, before she dealt a smile laced with nothing but 'please excuse us' to the professional woman standing in front of them, suited up expensively with advertisements, samples, and scents.

After their well-dressed organizer left the room, Grace snatched Tommy's phone and shoved it under her denim-clad bottom. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I'm listening, Gracie."

Grace smiled so sweetly it could have given Tommy diabetes. "Of course you are now, that your precious phone is under my ass. I don't care if you don't care, but if you don't care, don't come."

"Oh, I want to come alright," Tommy winked at her, his blues like ice.

"Dirty, don't distract me," Grace flushed again, "What kind of flowers did we, or excuse me, I, just decide on then?" She quipped with pursed lips.

Tommy cleared his throat and ran a hand over his face, "Er, white ones."

Grace sighed with a groan and tossed his phone to him with an eye roll of defeat, "Yes, Thomas, white ones. I give up, go to work. What parts of this do you actually want to be involved in?

"My suit. The boys' suits. Food. Guest list."

Grace laughed and watched Tommy's smile bloom. "Fine. But in that case, don't lie and tell me you're interested when I tell you I'm picking flowers."

"Ah, but you love flowers, and I love to watch you love flowers." Tommy winked again and Grace squeezed his knee until he twisted himself free with a laughter-filled cringe, "What do hydrangeas look like? Are those the ones I bought you when we had no money?"

"Oh heavens no, those were carnations. Are you telling me now, nine years later, that Thomas Shelby doesn't know his flowers?"

"Yes, because you're the only flower I know," Tommy said, standing and heading towards the window to light a cigarette, "Please don't buy anything as cheap as those fucking carnations I used to buy you. Nothing but the best now. I'm off, I'll text you before I leave the office."

Before Grace could get a word out, his lips pressed to the soft skin of her temple, a quick 'you & me' muttered into her ear before he left the room and sent the wedding planner back in with God knows what kind of command. She looked shaken and three shades paler than she did four minutes ago, "So, Ms. Burgess, are you sure hydrangeas are the best? H-he- just told me that everything should be the best, and I don't know what that means,"

Grace felt trivial and materialistic, but she had lost most of her youth and innocence long ago to her various sins. She would take any opportunity to revel in what she had left. Tommy may have considered her to be his pearly gates, but Grace knew the closest to heaven they would ever get would have to be their wedding. And Grace was going to see to it that it was perfect, for them both.

Grace rolled her eyes and picked up her tea, taking a warm sip. "Please ignore him. Hydrangeas will be the best. Can I see the invitation samples?"

Grace shut the front door behind the wedding planner almost an hour later, thoroughly annoyed and tired of anything with a description that included "blushing", "everlasting", or "passionate". Thankfully Tommy had gone to work before the organizer of their nuptials had started using what were seemingly her favorite adjectives.

Strolling into the kitchen to grab her bag, Grace swore with a fright when she came upon Finn. He looked quite stoned and was standing front of their fridge, The Last Shadow Puppets blasting from his phone.

"And how long have we been here?" Grace quipped, reluctantly amused.

"Uh. 10 minutes." Finn replied, his mouth full.

"Not the fridge, Finnegan, the house."

"Slept here. Got in late. Isiah too."

"Whatever happened to staying in your own flat?" Grace murmured, thumbing through texts from Ada that were laced with stress about whether Grace should pick her up a salad or a large order of chips.

Finn moved from the fridge to the freezer, eyeing Tommy's Haagen-Dazs that her fiancé pretended not to like, saying it was for Grace, but Grace knew he got up at 3 A.M. to eat it in secret like a child, "Michael and Georgina are there."

"Don't remind me," Grace groaned, missing her best friend and despising his new apparent attachment.

Georgina had arrived in England two months ago, in a shitstorm of post-murderous glory, like an annoying little usurper with a new ego that was the size of Arthur's garage. Tommy and Alfie still called her the Kingslayer, much to her amusement, which annoyed Grace and May to no end. Her older brothers, Austin and Warren, Grace fortunately hadn't met yet due to their departure on a "well-deserved" vacation, but Georgina was all too present, and just as intolerable as ever. Her attention hadn't stayed on Tommy for very long, but Grace couldn't decide if that was fortunate or unfortunate.

After the possibly-psychopathic brunette realized Tommy was going to pay her no attention, she got bored, got drunk, and decided that her and Michael were soulmates. Which, surprisingly, Michael agreed with.

"I love her," Michael had said, crashing into the snug and dropping his phone onto the floor, swearing in Romani before continuing, "I've never loved anything ever and I love her,"

"What?" Grace snapped, pulling the Garrison's accounting books away from him and the swaying hand that held his whiskey. Tommy was sitting beside her and left his arm around Grace's shoulders, snorting but saying nothing, continuing his seemingly thoughtful session of staring at the ceiling.

Michael continued, "Georgina. She gets me. She's insane. I love her."

"Get away from me," Grace laughed, turning back to her Macbook and nestling into Tommy's side, stealing his cigarette. "We'll talk about this when you're not sloshed."

"I'm serious."

Grace had thought he was joking. She hadn't told anyone yet, but she could tell Georgina had a secret. Grace knew what it looked like to have a lie dancing behind lips, desperate to get out, desperate to ruin. The cool calculation that it took to keep something like that in check, Grace was all too familiar with. But Grace didn't know what their annoying guest was lying about, and she wasn't going to say a word until she did. Not even to Tommy. Her stomach had turned at the thought of lying to him at all.

Before she could even continue, a voice loud enough to drown out even The White Stripes overhead had floated in with impeccable timing. Georgina's obnoxious accent filled the snug from all the way across the bar, talking loudly about jewelry she'd brought back from America, as if she thought letting everyone know was a good idea. Grace flashed Michael a toothy smile and a sarcastic, "Okay!"

Tommy had laughed quietly and squeezed Grace's shoulder, not having seen Michael's slate eyes flicker on the couple in irritation, the sincerity of which Grace looked back on now with a sad retrospect.

"Alright then. Fine. God forbid I like something for once," Michael had muttered, drained his glass, and walked out. Four hours later, he departed for Santorini with Georgina for two weeks and they'd been inseparable ever since.

"It won't last," Tommy had murmured sleepily the next night, lips brushing Grace's hair while they laid in bed, "He's young. You're like his sister, Grace, he won't be mad at you forever."

Grace had replied with nothing but an annoyed blink, and Tommy had continued, "I'm not going to let him miss work."

"Oh, thank goodness, Thomas, because the work is what I'm worried about," Grace snipped, stealing their blanket and attempting to roll over.

Tommy chuckled and moved faster than her, wrapping the duvet around her limbs until she couldn't move, slinking his arms around her now mummied body and shushing her gently, "I know it's not the work. He'll be back, Gracie."

"This is different. He's different. She's insane."

"I know she is. But we used to be different, too."

Tommy had replied with a reverence, the same reverence of which his lips traced her collarbones as he unwrapped their down duvet off her, moving south until those lips had fallen between her legs mercilessly for the next hour.

"Grace."

"Mm?" Grace's blues met Finn's hazels and she snapped back to the present, in her sunny kitchen, "What?"

"Can we stay in the guest rooms for a while? We can't take it. We're trying to study and live our lives and shit but it's a little hard when Michael and Georgina are fucking like four times a day-"

"Jesus, I get it, yes, you can stay here. I'm going to visit Ada and then I have a shift at the Garrison. Don't burn the house down," Grace snatched the now-empty pint of ice cream out of Finn's hand and threw it in the recycling before heading out of the kitchen.

Biting the inside of her cheek with anxiety, Grace stopped in the foyer and stared at the floor while swimming in her own thoughts as she slid on her shoes. Somewhere deep down Grace was reminded of her 22-year-old self when she looked at Georgina. Right before her lie had cracked and shattered, the falling shards destroying the girl she used to be once and for all. But the stakes were higher now, they all had more to lose, and this time around it wasn't Grace that was lying. Grace wasn't going to let the cheap heiress unravel what her and Tommy had worked so hard for. Nonetheless, a spot of sympathy for the now fatherless wild child spiked Grace somewhere deep. Grace wondered if Georgina missed her father. You have more in common than you'd like to admit, you know. She scowled at her inner monologue and told it to shut up before snapping to Finn over her shoulder, "And replace Tommy's ice cream!"

"Tommy doesn't eat ice cr-"

Grace slammed the door on the echo of Finn's baffled voice.

Leaving her Range Rover with the valet, Grace walked through Birmingham City Hospital's automatic doors.

Her lethal purse swung in time with her steps as she walked down the familiar maze of hallways, the smell of antiseptic taking her back to various times she'd rather forget. But thankfully the last two years had been relatively peaceful, the last time Grace had been here was with Scud and Lovelock. She smiled to herself as she walked past the bench she'd sat on with them, her small frame wedged between their raging bodies in a futile attempt to keep them from killing each other; they'd cut each other apart in a fight over their girl of the week.

Grace clicked up the stairs to Ada's floor, the bright colors of the pediatric unit feigning cheerful feelings for the sick little ones. Thankfully they had Ada Shelby.

She settled into a chair in the nurse's station, where she technically wasn't supposed to be but the staff let her sit anyway. She waved to Ada's co-nurses as they passed, smoothly receiving congratulations on her engagement. Grace watched Ada pop in and out of rooms out of the corner of her eye, growing closer to Grace's seat with each visit. She listened to the small voices tinkle at Ada when she entered their rooms to do rounds, feeling very grateful that her pretty sort-of-sister had found her niche, away from her brothers' ever-increasing empire.

"Well don't we look rosy," said Ada, plopping down into a chair across from Grace, one leg underneath her. Her light brown hair fell in waterfall around her when she pulled out the pen that was holding it up. "Did you ask Pol to be your matron-of-honor this morning?"

"Yes, she cried tears of joy and called me trustworthy. But no, this flush is thanks to thoughts of your brother and this thing he does with his-"

"D'ah!" Ada yelped, her Brummie cracking with a cringe, "Quite enough of that, there are children present you harlot. Don't make my ears bleed."

"Well here, I brought you that salad, don't get blood in it." Grace pushed the container of greens towards Ada who snatched it with a groan.

"Bless you, I'm starving. Thanks for not getting me chips. Need to fit into my bridesmaid dress, don't I? Speaking of which…" Ada had already stuffed her mouth with lettuce but Grace could translate well enough. A glob of dressing fell on her pale blue nurse's scrubs which she flicked off before continuing "How did the wedding planning go today? Did Tommy enjoy it?"

Grace giggled, "No, he left twenty minutes in. Not his thing."

Ada stopped chewing and raised her eyebrows, pretending to be surprised, "Who would have thought. Can I come next time instead seeing as he's probably useless?"

"Not quite useless," Grace replied, thinking of the fear Tommy was going to instill in the caterers & tailors, "But yes, Meghan too. I'm not as good at these girly things as I thought I would be. I wish I could marry him in the woods or something, just us, you know?"

Ada looked mildly horrified, "No, no. I do not fucking know. This family has been waiting a bloody lifetime for this wedding. Jesus. You need my help. I don't need you and my stupid brother giving out bullets as wedding favors or something."

"Why?" Grace replied with mock sadness, "It would be so festive."

"How Peaky of you," Ada mumbled, turning her to her computer with a scoff, starting to plug in her patient's vitals mindlessly. Grace spun in circles on the swivel chair, childishly enjoying herself, and finally paid attention to the group chat, which she'd been ignoring all day. She didn't bother to scroll upwards, all she could see was the last of Arthur and John's apparent morning squabble.

ARTHUR: You're just mad that Tom and I used to throw your breakfast out the window and Mum didn't see

JOHN: Fuck you. I was Mum's favorite

ARTHUR: Tom was Mum's favorite

MEGHAN: Oh honestly, shut up. Ada was probably her favorite. John did you make coffee yet? I'm about to get up

ARTHUR: Yeah John, make the coffee already

JOHN: Arthur do you know how to use a coffee machine?

ARTHUR: If I had a wife, I'd make her coffee

JOHN: Yeah, too bad she left you

MEGHAN: JOHN!

ADA: JOHN!

FINN: #ROASTED

ARTHUR: Shut up Finn. John I'll be right there to take care of your wife since you won't

JOHN: Fuck you

ARTHUR: Love you too!

2:34 P.M.

TOMMY: Family meeting at the Garrison tonight. 7. Don't be late.

ARTHUR: Arsenal plays Manchester tonight, we'll be packed. We'll make money.

TOMMY: I don't care. We don't need money. You and Grace will close at 6. The rest of you: 7. Do not fucking be late.

No one answered, Tommy's idea of an invitation hanging in the digital air. Ada had seen it as well, and complained before Grace could. "You've got to be kidding. On this episode of the Thomas Shelby show: executive decisions!"

Before Grace could respond in agreement her phone buzzed again, with a text just for her.

MR. SHELBY: Got to London safe.

GRACE: You're in London? Missed Alfie too much?

MR. SHELBY: Yes.

GRACE: Can we talk after family meeting tonight?

MR. SHELBY: About what?

GRACE: Can we just talk later?

MR. SHELBY: Yes. Is everything alright?

Grace didn't answer and threw her phone into her bag, biting her thumb nail lightly, an old nervous habit. Not answering Tommy would make him crazy, but if Grace hid one more thing from him, even her mood, she would probably implode.

"Grace," Ada paused, and was staring at her, "Are you alright? You haven't been yourself over the past couple of weeks."

Tommy may have known Grace best, but Ada was a close second. Grace got the chills when she looked up at Ada's face, she looked like her brother too much for Grace's liking in this moment. But Ada's eyes were softer, and kinder, and Grace wanted nothing more to unload her burden. But if Tommy didn't know, no one was going to know. Tommy came first, and that wasn't going to change.

"I'm fine Ada. Just stress. Extra work with Michael gone."

"I know," Ada grimaced, finishing her salad with one last forkful of kale, "You want to paint some nails?"

"Did they cover that in nursing school?" Grace smiled, standing up to go get the nail varnishes from their usual cabinet.

"Ugh fuck you, you sound like my brothers. Here, give me that," Ada took the box of nail supplies and carried it under her arm as she linked the other one through Grace's. Grace laughed as they tip-toed into the room of a four-year-old.

"Are you Anna and Elsa?" the tiny girl asked, reaching feebly for Grace's side-braid, her wires coming with her. Grace felt the ghosts of the wires of her past but smoothly hid her cringe as she and Ada leaned forward to tickle the weak child with their hair.

"Yes." They both winked, settling down beside her. For a couple of hours Grace moved around the floor with her sister, pretending to be some angel in the land of the sick, the only place she would ever be one.

Grace balanced unsteadily on Arthur's back, her worn Converse rolling uneasily on Arthur's bony spine. Both tried to keep their laughter in check in order for Grace to keep her balance, the slamming synth of Cold Showers in the background distracting them both.

"I swear to fuckin' God, Grace, if Tommy walks in right now…" Arthur said.

"He won't, he went to London to see Alfie for a bit," Grace murmured, concentrating on aiming the lightbulb in her hand into the socket of the brass lamp hanging in front of her, barely out of reach.

"Who goes to London for a bit?" Muttered Arthur, almost silently, but Grace could feel his jealous words rumble through her shoes on his back. She ignored him.

"How do we not have a ladder, Arthur? You're the owner, buy a ladder. You've been here five years. I've been working here longer than you have."

"Then maybe you should have bought the fuckin' ladder then," Arthur swore and shook with laughter once more, making Grace shake too, missing the socket again as she stood on his back precariously.

"Arthur!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Where do I even buy a fuckin' ladder?"

"Oh, honestly." Grace said, blue eyes squinted while she focused. The teardrop shaped bulb finally popped into place as she lurched forward slightly, putting more weight on the Garrisons' lighting fixture than she should have. Screwing it in as fast as possible, they both continued to laugh as she crouched on Arthur's hunched back like a surfboard.

After easing her way down accompanied by more laughter and some swearing, they looked up at the fixed glow of the lighting and high-fived before Grace headed back behind the bar and back to her list.

"Are they drawing up the contracts today?" Arthur asked, not looking at her. Grace knew he felt left out, and she felt guilty. Tommy had been pushing Arthur to the side more than usual. But until Georgina left next week, with her new racing business in place, all cards had to be played close to the chest. At least that's what Tommy had been saying to them. And in his sleep.

"I guess," Grace shrugged. Knowing Tommy and Alfie, they probably weren't getting much done, but Grace felt bad lying to Arthur anyway, "They're ready, I guess Alfie just has to look over them. They have a plan."

"Yeah, what the fuck else is new. I gotta pop out for a bit before he gets back, you'll be alright?" Arthur asked, flipping through a stack of notes from the cash drawer before slamming it shut, the fresh cigar in his mouth mumbling his speech.

"I'll be fine, since we closed an hour before Thomas would even be returning, for no reason" Grace said sassily, counting the liquor bottles she needed to restock.

"Right. Text me if you need anything," Arthur slapped on his flat cap and walked out the door.

Grace raised an eyebrow briefly, wondering what Arthur could possibly be doing with what she counted as 500 pounds on a Tuesday afternoon. It was like 2012 all over again. But she chose to ignore that for today and fell into her closing shift work, singing along to the music overhead.

An occasional evening shift at the Garrison was a break from the office, and Grace was happy to be working a slow Tuesday in her second home. She couldn't leave the Garrison behind. She had met Tommy here, all the Shelby's in fact, along with agreeing to be the future Mrs. Shelby here, and it was close to her heart. She'd bled in the Garrison, made love in the Garrison, killed in the Garrison, and found her family in the Garrison. She wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Grace swore when a banging on the doors made her drop the money she was counting, the urgent rattle of the old wood a familiar sound. She rolled her eyes, shuffling the stack to recount it, "We're closed,"

"It's Meghan, open the door bitch."

Grace counted the money as she walked around the bar, only taking her eyes off the stack to reach up and undo the latch above the frosted glass.

"Don't you have a key?" Grace asked, thankfully done with the pounds as a rushing Meghan rushed past her and into the bar. "Christ, do you really need a drink that badly?"

"Yes, I do, and I gave John my key because he lost his, and then he lost mine," Meghan replied breathlessly, waving her hand around wildly, "Is it just us in here?"

"Yeah, why?" Grace pushed the gin and the tonic water towards her pretty sister, who preferred to make her own drinks if Arthur wasn't around.

"I have to tell you something, and I need you to be calm."

Stomach dropping to her feet, Grace's mouth dried up with a familiar metal taste. Tommy. "What is it? Tell me. What is-"

"Well give me a chance to fucking tell you, Jesus. So, I just ran into the Fairchild brothers. They're back."

"Did something happen? Is it Thomas?"

"No, it's not Thomas. But he's going to be pissed." Meghan said, wincing at her stiff drink. Or the thought of how angry Tommy was going to be.

Grace didn't care. Chasing the memories of the old days away, she calmed down fairly quickly, "He's always pissed. What happened? And where would you possibly 'run into' the Fairchild brothers?"

Meghan reached behind the bar towards the lines of pint glasses Grace had just finished washing, grabbing limes for her freshly mixed poison, "John and I just went to lunch across town, the two of them were sitting at the bar, taking up three extra seats with their luggage."

"Oh good, so being obnoxious isn't just a trait of Georgina's. Is John here?"

"No, he went to meet Arthur. But anyway, listen. Don't tell Tommy this." Meghan stared at her tentatively, her brown eyes cautious.

The list of things Grace was keeping from Tommy was about to be at two, which was two too many for Grace's liking. She poured herself a whiskey and gave Meghan a cold stare, "Don't ask me to do that."

"Remember guy that Ada was talking to at the Fairchild's party? You said he looked like Johnny Depp. Wild exaggeration by the way, forgot to pick a fight with you about that."

"He did, you blind twat, but yeah what about him?" Grace raised her glass to her lips, noticing that Meghan had fallen silent. Peering over the top of the crystal tumbler, she was met with a grimace from her sister, who appeared to be waiting for Grace to put something together. Which she then did.

The whiskey that ripped through her nose was not comfortable. Grace spent a solid two minutes coughing and choking, sputtering the remainder of the amber liquid that hadn't been snorted up into her nose onto the floor. Meghan laughed and Snapchatted her while Grace gave her the finger.

"Don't tell me-" Grace croaked.

"Yep. Austin. Or maybe it was Warren. I don't fucking know, it's the better looking one so whatever. But anyway, we're all going to be in the same room tonight and I didn't want you to be caught off guard."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Grace muttered, catching her breath as she ran her fingers through her hair. First Michael, now Ada. Grace needed Tommy. "Ada needs to tell Tommy. I'm not lying to him about one more thing."

"One more thing, eh?" Tommy's voice boomed from the back of the bar, and Grace jumped, staring at his chiseled face with her mouth open slightly. Speak of the Devil and he doth appear. He squinted his eyes at her before turning to John's wife and raising a brow at her, "Meghan?"

"Bye!" Meghan replied, taking her drink and throwing Grace a sympathetic look before walking out the front door, raising her phone to her ear. Grace hoped it was to warn Ada.

Tommy crossed the bar, taking Meghan's place in front of Grace, and the rest of her whiskey. He cleared his throat and set his elbows on the bar, eyes sharp and glinting with what Grace prayed was amusement, "So, anything to tell me?"

Grace's nails left half-moons in Tommy's back as he fucked her, his hands rocking her hips into him so hard Grace thought she was going to pass out. Their argument had been brief, ending with Grace straddling Tommy in the snug, which always tended to bring most of their arguments to a halt. The red handprint on her ass began to sting deliciously as Tommy imprinted it once more, pulling the pained rasp from Grace she knew he loved.

Tommy began whispering inconceivably sinful things in her ear when the door to the snug flew open, John and Isiah swearing in surprise before bursting out laughing.

"Seriously? How many times am I gonna have to see this shit before I fuckin' die?" John laughed, Isiah doubled-over behind him. Narrowly missing Tommy's whiskey glass, which had been launched at his head, John shut the door as the crystal shattered on the floor behind him. Grace heard the boys move behind the bar, rapping on the snug's window with a muffled, "Carry on!"

"Fuck off," Tommy groaned and buried his head in Grace's neck.

She laughed and kissed the spot behind his ear which was his favorite, "They did say carry on…"

"No," Tommy growled, halting Grace's hips with his hands, which she had resumed rolling.

"I can be quiet!"

That pulled a laugh from Tommy and Grace smiled. He leaned down to lick a droplet of whiskey off her breast that had fallen when he chucked the tumbler at his brother's head. He smirked at the goosebumps that were left in his tongue's wake, "No you can't. You used to be good at lying."

Grace looked away, and they were silent for a few minutes as they caught their breath, Tommy running his finger up and down her spine, staring at her.

"I'm sorry," Grace whispered.

Tommy shushed her, pressing his lips to hers, "You didn't even lie to me Gracie, you're trying to look out for us. There's no fight, there's nothing to be sorry about. I trust you. Eh? Look at me."

Grace reluctantly dragged her eyes from his chest and met his icy eyes, so close that their eyelashes brushed as Tommy pressed his forehead to hers, his voice low, "Like I said, I think you're right. She's a liar. We're gonna figure out whatever the fuck it is, together. I love you. You and me, alright?"

Before Grace could respond, the recently-arrived Finn began exaggeratedly moaning outside of the snug door, John echoing from behind the snug's window, which he began to bang on. Tommy yelled in Romani so loud the window shook, and the boys stopped their jokes but kept the laughter.

Grace slid Tommy out of her with an eye roll, the absence of his length suddenly very depressing. She got dressed as Tommy scrolled through his phone messages, absent-mindedly lighting a cigarette for them both. Someone turned music back on in the bar and Grace hummed along.

"Wait," Tommy muttered, cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked up at Grace with a scrunched brow. "There's two things. Eh? Two things. You said to Meghan you didn't want to lie to me about 'one more thing'. You only told me about Georgina,"

Grace swore to herself as she tied the laces of her old Converse, the only thing she'd wear for work at the Garrison. God only knew what various substances had gotten on them over the years. She'd forgotten all about Ada and her Fairchild suitor when her and Tommy had started talking about Georgina. But she was done fighting with Tommy, and unfortunately for Ada, this was going to have to be her problem. Grace strolled over to Tommy and took the cigarette out of his mouth and bounced up onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Nope. You can ask Ada about that one. Sneaky broad, your sister. Me and you," Grace kissed the blooming clench in his jaw before walking out of the snug, flipping off her whooping brothers.