The Shelby family’s gathering buzzes with conversation, but Thomas Shelby’s mind is elsewhere. His eyes scan the room, landing on you as he remembers the amount of kisses you’ve shared, long nights spent in bed together — memories of what could’ve been. Two years have passed since the war, but you haven’t changed a bit — actually, you’re even prettier. He has changed however, all those nightmares and flashbacks from his times in the trenches were like an illness.

You sit across the table, interacting with the Shelbys whom you grew up with. Even during the war when the boys were away, you helped Polly and Ada take care of themselves and even of the business sometimes — though the two women only let you look over the legal part of it, knowing that Tommy wouldn’t like you being involved with their illegal activity.

Thomas didn’t even come to you when he got back, not that day, not the one after…not the next week — and now you are only avoiding his gaze purposefully, making him furrow his eyebrows several times. And every time he tries to nudge his foot against yours under the table, you only shove him away and push your chair slightly further from him.

After dinner, Polly has insisted that Thomas takes you home, since even his family knew about you two’s past and present — and the idea of you two walking alone in the evening towards your house makes Arthur and John laugh loudly.

"You two, shut up. Go to bed lads, tomorrow’s a busy day for us." Thomas scolds his brothers for their childish remarks about your situation, putting his coat and ignoring your protest.

Minutes later, the cold night air wraps around you both as you step out into the quiet streets. Thomas walks beside you, his presence imposing but oddly quiet. If only you realized that neither can he ignore the pull between you two.

“You’re not going to pretend we’re strangers, are you?” His voice is low, tinged with curiosity as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.