A vintage's touch: Low-Hanging fruit.

A vintage's touch: Low-Hanging fruit.

// These two. ugh... I love them so much. Get ready for Arthur's thoughts and finally  Mary's. 

Can't wait to get to our drama-juicy era :p for now, he only has to deal with this one.  You're awesome as my Tommy N. always has been. always will be :D 

xxxxx

How could he make her understand? How could he let Mary know that all she believed in were lies? Lies she told herself about him. Lies she told herself. Lies she was told about him.  He wished he knew the answer to his question -he did!- and he wished she could understand without any explanation from him -he knew she couldn't.- Lizzie was faster than he could ever be and she had poisoned Mary's mind with her lies... well.. were they? Tommy knew how he treated Lizzie. With her, things were transactional, as they have always been. While she became a good friend and ally of the Peaky Blinders and the Shelby family, she wasn't even close to becoming a lover. She wasn't Mary, that much Tommy could acknowledge.  She wasn't the woman that had haunted his sleepless nights, nor the one he wanted to find once he returned home. She wasn't the woman whose smile made his heart tingle and his knees weak. She wasn't the woman who had stirred desire in his loins, let alone the one now sleeping by his side.  Mary was. Mary was the only reason he hadn't already offed himself. She kept him together after the loss of Grace and the loss of John. She kept him together even now...with her lovely lullabies she sang to him sometimes, to the warmth of her arms wrapped around his frame. Mary and her gentle efforts to get to know him better, and her comforting presence in the life of his son. Their son.... Mary was...Mary was... 

How could he make her understand? how could he let Mary know that she wasn't a commodity. She wasn't there to replace grace. She wasn't there to replace Lizzie. She wasn't a novelty nor a whore he would be using to empty his sacks. She was a woman he... A woman he... A woman he... He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing full well he couldn't finish his trail of thoughts. Deep down, Tommy knew what he felt for the nurse. He was in love but it scared him to be. He didn't want a repeat of the same tragedies that had followed him since he was a teenage boy. He didn't want to lose Mary to Death so it was easier to keep his feelings to himself, and to show his love in a way that only she could understand. Well, did she? Did she? Of course not! If she understood how he felt for her, Mary wouldn't have freaked out the way she did because he didn't pick up the phone. She wouldn't have thought he didn't give two fucks about her well-being. She wouldn't have thought he didn't care whether she was alive or dead. It was a lie, a web of lies and only had the answers and only he could appease her fears. Could he blame her? Mary had never known love in her life, and the only time she could have, her child was taken from her. Could he blame her for wanting to ensure he felt the same way as she did? Not really, but he wasn't ready. He couldn't take the risk of losing her and go through the same thing all over again. So what to do? What to do?