Love and Lies • 𝑇𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑦 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦

Chapter Eleven

Ann was a little confused. 

She and Thomas were in the restaurant he had first taken her to a few nights after they met in her museum. They'd been seated at a table for a couple hours now, but every attempt at conversation Ann made was met with minuscule responses that made it clear Thomas was buried deep inside his head. 

"Where are you tonight?" She finally asked, setting her fork down on her empty plate. The tension he exuded was making her jittery. 

There was a beat as Thomas looked at her. Actually, he more looked past her. Ann turned to follow his train of eye and found he was looking at a barman drying an empty glass with a towel. He was a young Chinese man. Had Thomas caught him staring? Every time they dined at the restaurant, they were met with a flurry of uncomfortable looks, but they usually stopped half way through their meal.  She turned back to find Thomas looking at her now, like he was searching her for an answer, even though she'd asked the question. Just as she was about to ask another question, one she already knew the answer to - 'are you okay?' - their waitress appeared. 

"Would you two like dessert menus?" She asked, collecting their plates and utensils.

"We'll take the cheque." Thomas said before Ann could speak. 

"Yes sir." The waitress said and then walked away.

"Excuse me for a moment." Thomas stood up from his seat. Ann looked after him until he turned a corner in the restaurant and was no longer in sight, a little taken aback. She sat in her confusion for a while, but he didn't return. Instead, the barman walked up to her, tentatively stopping next to Thoma's vacant chair. Ann straightened up.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, and the man's lips pulled into a dimpled smile before taking an uninvited seat.

"You don't know who I am." He said, smile still intact.

"Am I supposed to know who you are?" 

"Well, we only lived together for two years, five zero six," he said. Ann sat back at the mention of her operational name, keeping any rigidness from her form. She'd trained with Belle and fifteen other recruits. Their trainers were not much for casual conversations, so for two years, recruits were in a compound with only one another to socialise with.  She didn't recognise him as one of them. "One of the first challenges we were tasked with was trying to read one thing from another recruit. I chose you, and I figured out you were raised in a single-parent household," he continued. 

Ann relaxed a little. He checked out, Ann remembered that challenge. It was one of the first and barely scratched the surface of how much they had to learn. She also remembered him, except he looked different. He was still a stand out in a crowd six feet tall, but his hair was shorter and he was built twice the size with muscle. She didn't know his name, not then, not now. Recruits only knew each other by the number they were assigned. He was five six four. 

 Ann rolled her eyes. "You're breaking the rules," she said, looking over his shoulder for Thomas' return. He was still no where in sight. "For all you know, you've signed my death sentence by talking to me." 

He looked a little guilty, but shrugged. "That's the job, isn't it?" he said. "We live our lives knowing everyday could be our last...and sooner or later one of them will be."

"Well, likely sooner if you're still sitting here like we're old friends when he returns." Ann sighed and took a drink of water from her glass. 

His smile returned. "What's your cover story?"

Ann scoffed, more surprised than offended. "What do you want five six four?"

"Can I guess?" He asked like she hadn't spoken. "You're the widow of a businessman." He faltered a little from the lack of amusement on her face and sighed. "Look, it's just...we spend everyday being other people or every other day hiding who we are. It's nice to talk to someone without that cloud."