WOUNDS THAT NEVER HEAL || tommy shelby x reader

chapter nineteen

"Did Tommy not tell you about this little meeting he invited me to?"

You found yourself shaking your head twice, mouth still slightly ajar.

"Ah— well he's a naughty boy," Alfie smiled, showing yellowed teeth, before placing his arms on your shoulders and turning you back towards the table. "Look here, Tommy. Miss L/N didn't know I was coming,"

Tommy only smiled. "It was a surprise," He looked you up and down with a smirk. How could this man go from one end of the line to the other in a matter of hours?

From telling you he still loved you, to forcing you into a business meeting with Alfie Solomons, of all people?

You felt rage bubbling beneath your skin as Alfie lead you back to the table and gently pushed you onto the chair. Alfie quickly grabbed a spare chair from a neighbouring table and placed it at yours and Tommy's table, sitting down with a small grunt.

"I thought you understood me, Tommy." You said through a clenched jaw.

"I have never understood you, Y/N. Not really," He replied, and your stomach dropped. You felt hurt creeping into your bones—the kind of hurt that you'd said you wouldn't feel anymore, not from him. You sent a glare at him.

"Then read my lips—stay the fuck away from my business." You downed your gin in one, slamming the glass down on the table. Alfie raised his hands defensively between you and Tommy.

"Whoa, whoa—so much animosity on one, small restaurant table. Look—Miss L/N, I'm aware of your past with the Shelby's—," You shot your stare to Alfie, your eyes full of fire. He recoiled physically, glancing over to Tommy. "Yeah, Tommy. This one's on you," He sat back in his chair, making a show of fiddling with his fingernails and acting as if he wasn't there.

Tommy leaned forward. "You said it yourself, when Joseph Kinsmen entered your establishment and pointed a gun at you—if you know the Shelby's, then who else do you know?" Tommy nodded towards Alfie. "Now, you know the Solomons'."

"What a fucking shit way to turn it into you caring about my business, Tommy." You spat. "I'm sorry, Mr Solomons—,"

"Alfie; call me Alfie. Misters always make me feel awkward," Alfie butt in.

"I'm sorry, Alfie, but I'm here unwillingly. It's no offense to you, or your business, but I like doing things the old-fashioned way."

"The old-fashioned way?" Alfie said, genuinely curious. You turned to Tommy, a frown on your face.

"Legally—alone." The table sat in silence as your words trickled out. Alfie was looking at Tommy, waiting for a response. You were thinking of a way to get up and leave immediately—you were thinking of how you'd been in Michael's bed, not three hours before, and was sitting opposite the man that had said he still loved you.

"No one wants to be alone." Tommy spoke softly, and your gut coiled.

"That's it. This is the final straw." You let out, along with most of your pent-up tension. "You keep saying the past is in the past, when you know fucking well it's not," You stood up slowly, clarity passing over you. "Are you truly incapable of holding yourself accountable for your words and actions, Tommy?"

Tommy looked up at you, his mouth ajar— speechless.

"I was a fool to ever believe that you actually meant it this time. I was a fool to ever let you back into my life, to have a want to come to your aid," You were spilling your guts—in front of Alfie Solomons, no less. "If you're so fond of bringing up past conversations we've had, then let me leave you with what I said in your mansion—,"