EPILOGUE.

               PLAINTIVE, HIGH—PITCHED CRIES filled the air, entering all ears for a good mile around. In the kitchen of Six Watery Lane, Felicity Shelby and Polly Gray winced as the noise hit their ears, both growing tired of the cries, although the latter nursed her headache with a cup of tea, whereas Felicity only continued to hold the child to her breast and plead with it to quieten.

"Well, she's got strong lungs, alright," Polly declared, her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed as the infant would not cease its screeches.

"You don't say," Felicity returned with an exhausted sigh as she rocked the baby back and forth. "Oh, Jesus, Poll, I'm no good at this. Why won't she stop?"

Barely a month in and the young mother felt just as exhausted and clueless as the day she had screamed blue murder and sobbed until her shoulders ached and her cheeks felt as though they would be stained red. And of course, Felicity was elated when the wait was finally over and a tiny fist curled around her pinky finger, of course she was. She would have had to be psychotic to not be.

"Maybe she's hungry?" Felicity piped up after a moment. "She has to be, hasn't she? Maybe she's—"

The older woman shook her head, smiling tiredly. "Not three minutes ago did you say the same thing, and a babe's not about to grow an appetite in that short a time. Just keep her close to your chest, see. She'll calm down after a little while."

As she continued to try and hush the girlX Felicity barely noticed the door swing inwards and hit the wall with a bang, barely noticed her husband walk over the threshold, and only tore her eyes away from the infant in her arms when he began rifling through the kitchen drawers, seeming to not notice the two women before him, glaring daggers at his back as the child started its cries up again at the sudden shock of sound.

"He's making a bloody racket, that one," Tommy commented to the room, not even looking up as he continued to search for whatever it was that he was looking for. . . and just as loudly as before, much to his wife's annoyance.

"Thought we weren't cursing in front of the kids?" Felicity returned, disapproving and unimpressed with his loud entrance. "And it's not Will. He's been as good as gold all afternoon."

"Thea?" Was Tommy's distracted reply. "Can't be."

"You try getting her to sleep for two hours straight and then say that to me again, alright? Believe me, your daughter's got your lungs, and she's determined to show them off to the whole fucking world."

She turned her attention back to the infant who remained restless in her embrace, and silently begged for her to give her even the smallest moment of peace. Hence why she did not notice Tommy ad he closed the drawers, brandishing a letter in one fist as he made his way over to his wife and pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head as he did so.

"I thought we weren't to curse in front of the kids, eh?" He teased, tilting her chin up with the very top of his thumb so that he might kiss her properly.

She smiled against his lips. "Well, one's fast asleep and the other's yelling like the wind," Felicity murmured. "Who's to say what she hears?"

Tommy laughed, kissed her once more before taking a step back so to flourish the letter he still held between his fingertips. "I was going to show this to Arthur, first," he said, running a bitten nail beneath the glued—down fold of the envelope. "But thought you might want to see it. You know. . . before him. You being better at numbers and all."

"I'm in no mood to look at the books now, Tom," Felicity sighed, the thought filling her with despair as both her mind and body were desperate for a rest, even a short one.

"It's not the books," he responded, his features taking on that expression he would always have whenever he was even the tiniest bit proud of himself and his work.

"Then what is it?"

Tommy held out the envelope, stubbornly refusing to be easy on her and just tell her himself. "Read it."

Felicity grumbled, but took the letter in between her middle and index finger. "Take Thea for a moment then, alright?"

He nodded. Taking his daughter in his arms, Tommy let his final shield fall — the one that would only ever drop its hostility when he was around both his wife or his children. He wasn't to pretend that everything was perfect the moment Felicity birthed the two infants whom were theirs and theirs only, but it did seem that way.

The blonde watched him, taking in his oh—so slight smile as he let the girl in his arms cease her yells and instead latch onto the fabric of his suit jacket. Felicity was surprised to say it, but Tommy Shelby was a far better father than she had ever expected him to be. . . a far better father than he had ever expected himself to be, actually. The twins absolutely adored him, much to their mother's delight, and although they had both agreed to try and shield them from the horrors that was his work and both of their lives, the couple couldn't help but be glad of such a miracle occurring in such a horrid place as Small Heath.

After a moment, Tommy glanced up. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Felicity startled, laughed, then nodded as she slipped her nail underneath the paper and tore the glue beneath it. Silence ensued as her eyes skimmed the page, reading the typewriter lettering and flicking over the inked logo that had been pressed thickly onto the bottom right of the paper. It wasn't long before a surprised yelp slipped from between her lips, and her gaze flew from the page up to meet Tommy's eyes.

"You're joking," she said, her voice hushed.

He was smiling — the smug git. "I'd never."

Felicity turned back to the letter, her palm smacked over her mouth. "Do you know how big this is?" She asked. "It's massive. An expansion this bloody big is enormous, Tommy, and you've. . . you've. . ."

"I know what I'm doing," he interrupted, figuring it'd be best to reassure her now before she worked her excitement and anxieties into a tangent.

"I know, but. . ."

"It'll be the same as it always was," Tommy continued, easily cutting through her fears once more. "I'll be home just as much, you mustn't worry about that. Arthur's agreed to take some of the load and so's John. All you need to fret about is the dress you'll be wearing when I take you out once I get home."

"Is that all we women are good for? Wearing pretty dresses?" She returned, frowning. . . not that she truly meant the expression, as the smile that tugged her lips upwards soon showed him.

"No," Tommy said, smiling at her indignation. "But you're pretty fucking good at it, that's all I'm saying."

Felicity rolled her eyes, ashamed that such a line would still have a daft effect on her considering how long she had known the man. Just a little under two years and she still felt like a lovesick schoolgirl sometimes, with her hopeless, overwhelming love for the man she was most definitely not supposed to love. . . the man she had never dreamed of even speaking to, all of those years ago. Except they were more than schoolchildren now, what with the trials and tribulations of time testing them to their breaking point.

"Alright, I'll let you have that," she sighed after a moment, taking the now—quiet baby from his arms and moving towards the crib where their other offspring lay, sucking on his thumb amidst all of the yelling his sister had taken to doing for the past hour.

"You can go if you'd like now, Poll," Felicity spoke to the older woman at the other end of the room, who had almost fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against her propped—up arm and her head drooping down. "Sorry for keepin' you here so long."

Polly glanced up, sleep creasing the corners of her eyes as she awoke fully. "You make sure to make use of him whilst he's here," she remarked, nodding her head towards her nephew. "He's just as able as you are to look after that noisy daughter of his, don't let 'im forget it."

"Fuck off, Poll," was Tommy's only exasperated response.

Felicity laughed and bid goodbye to the Shelby matriarch once more before closing the door, turning on her heel, and making her way towards the old record player that stood atop a chest of drawers in the very corner. "Dance with me?" She asked as she dropped the needle into the dips and valleys of an old record and waited for the tune to start up.

His lips quirked up and Tommy crossed the room to her, taking her waist in one hand and clasping her palm gently with his other. One. Hearts beating as one, together, in sync.

And so, as they twirled around the kitchen of Six Watery Lane, it never could be said that the proclaimed devil of Small Heath wouldn't fall for the his very own angel.

AUTHOR'S NOTE!

and that's it!! i honestly can't believe it i won't lie, but there's the final final chapter of golden liar! my babies tommy and felicity are all grown up and happy (i told y'all to trust me)

thank you all for your support and comments, i actually adore you all enormous amounts.

q: as a final thing, what's tommyfelicity's song? just curious to see y'all's answers ngl after this rollercoaster of a book

i love you all so much, hugs and kisses for all of you mwah mwah