Precipice

Pairing:Alfie Solomons x baker!OC (Annie Murphy)

Summary: With the weight of unspoken truth dragging him down and after gaining some encouragement from an unlikely source, Alfie finally tells Annie he’s in love with her.

Loosely inspired by: “What’s worse, telling you my feelings or to die without revealing that you crawled inside my head and set a fire there instead? Letting all my insecurity devour me with certainty.” - Halsey, Ya'aburnee

Word count: 5,000

A/N: My first in a series of misc. pieces about these QTs! Basically a 3-chapter one shot but I haven’t written on here in literally years so it’s how we rollin’.

–

Alfie Solomons was not a man who held his tongue, and each syllable he spoke was accented with deliberate cause. He liked that his rivals expected more out of him from just violence, that any battle with him would inevitably be a battle of wits. He relished the way his words shifted the very air in the room, wielding just as much, if not, more, power than his threat of his bullets and fists.

Bearing this in mind, it surprised him greatly, then, when he found he couldn’t manage to choke out three specific, simple words to Annie. Any time he came close to it, fear clawed at his guts, and he held back, cursing at himself in frustration every time.

“A spineless fuckin’ cunt you are, mate. How many men have you cut, killed, murdered, tortured, fuckin’ butchered, yeah? And yet, here you are, afraid that the shriveled remains of your blackened heart will break if you tell this woman the truth. Because how the fuck could she ever love someone like you, back, hm?”

The war inside him raged on for months and months, and now, with Callum gone, he found he was yelling at himself more and more to tell Annie every day—but still didn’t do it. But the longer he kept his mouth shut, the worse he felt, an increasingly unbearable weight pressing against his rib cage.

So, Alfie Solomons did what any lovesick Jewish boy at the end of his rope would do: he decided to talk to his mother.

Alfie sighed and settled himself in the cozy armchair in the corner of his study, lighting his pipe. He inhaled and turned his attention to the side table, looking out at a small black and white portrait nestled right beside his Tanakh.

“Привет, мама. Desperately need some help, I do.”

Alfie fiddled with his pipe as he leaned his head back on the chair, blue eyes still intently fixed on the picture of his deceased mom. “I bet you and your angel friends have been havin’ a right fuckin’ laugh, watchin’ me agonize over this Irish Gypsy woman. Man plans and God laughs, innit?”

In the flickering light of his pipe, he swears the portrait of his mother smiles at him. The corner of his mouth turned and he sat for a moment, lost in his thoughts and the smoke. When he spoke again, he was quieter, more subdued – but his sincerity was just as pronounced.

“But I know it’s real and that’s what matters, yeah. And I know that’s what you’d be telling me, to listen to this thing in my chest here.”

Alfie paused, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“That bein’ said, I am still properly conflicted on if tellin’ her is the right thing. If I do and she doesn’t feel the same, which is most likely, on account of me bein’ me, yeah it’ll all go to shit. I won’t ever see her or that beautiful fuckin’ face anymore, hear that laugh. Get to make her laugh.“

His voice went even quieter, speaking more to himself in earnest. "But there’re times I see her and she just gives me thislook, and I can’t fuckin’ read it but I can feel it, something there between me and her. And I keep comin’ back for it. If there’s even a chance …”

His brow furrowed, ring-clad fingers roaming through his beard.

“Look, I know I am destined to glide right to the front of the queue for the fiery pit of the damned, but I’m sure you’ve got some powerful holy mates up there. Ones who would let ya send some kind of sign down to your kid, tellin’ me what I should do about Annie.”

He gestured vaguely, and the sound of his bracelets clinking together echoed around the vast room.

“Things of love and goodness and all that are more your domain than mine, yeah, so I am asking you to take the reins here.”

He sat in silence for a few moments, a slight smile on his face as he nodded toward the picture.

“I think you and her would’ve got on well, yeah. Right. Спасибо, мама.”

Alfie extinguished the pipe, groaning slightly as he stretched up and walked down the hall to his bedroom. It’s quiet except for Cyril’s snores in the corner. He laid down with his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about how he’d feel if Annie was next to him.

–

After a night of uneasy sleep, Alfie was in no mood for anyone’s shit at work. Ollie immediately sensed it and gave him a wide berth, placing a solid five feet of distance between them as he gently dropped some papers on Alfie’s desk–something to do with the latest of Tommy’s schemes.

Alfie grunted and went to wave him away, but stopped when Ollie stammered out:

"And there’s a woman here to see you, Mr. Solomons. It’s not Annie.”

Alfie dragged his hands down his face, resisting the urge to smack the younger man.

“I fuckin’ knew that, didn’t I, ya silly boy, since you would’ve otherwise just told me An was here.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to fuckin’ apologize, mate, just try to use even a fraction of the brain ya got for a change.”

Ollie stood frozen until Alfie finally lost patience and smacked his hands on the desk, causing Ollie to jump.

“Well, go on then, send the mysterious lady in!”

Ollie nodded and scurried out the door as Alfie sighed, muttering under his breath as he took a sip of the Earl Grey on his desk.

“Fuckin too much to ask for a shred of intelligence these days, innit.”

He heard the sounds of heels clicking down the hall and his attention shifted, curiosity stirring inside him. And then he saw Annie’s older sister come through the door, and his curiosity was quickly replaced with dread.

“Fuckin’ hell, what does this ghastly woman want?”

Mutual dislike read plainly on both their faces, but Alfie adopted a cheerful tone anyways, raising his tea cup in a mock salute.

"Mags! You must be lost, sweetheart, payin’ us savages on this side of town a visit, eh?”

Mags shook her head, her cherry-red lips in a thin line as she surveyed the cluttered room with distaste.

“I’m not lost, Alfie.”

Alfie leaned back in his chair, bouncing slightly as he kicked his feet up on the desk.

“Hm. Well good, that’s good. Then I don’t feel bad tellin’ ya that I am, despite your many comments around the subject, a businessman, Mags. And a fuckin’ busy one at that. With very important things to do.”

To drive home his point, he grabbed the stack of papers off his desk and dropped them back down. He grinned as Mags clenched her jaw, clearly doing her best to hold back some smart remark.

“So tell us why you’re here or kindly get out of me office, yeah?”

Mags turned her gaze on him and when she spoke, she took the normally unflappable King of Camden Town by surprise:

"I need to talk to you about Annie.”

Alfie dropped his feet off the desk as his stomach dropped. His cocky demeanor was gone, immediately replaced with anxiety.

“What’s wrong, is she alright?”

Something in Mags’ cold glare lessened, and she sat down as Alfie stared back, unnerved.

“She’s fine,” she replied calmly. She fished around her purse and pulled out a cigarette container and match, offering the case toward Alfie, who shook his head. If Annie was alright, then what in the whole wide world of fuck was Mags here to talk about?

“Suit yourself.” Mags lit up, taking a grateful drag between her manicured nails. She sighed, pointing the cigarette toward him.

“I’m here because someone apparently needs to talk some sense into you. So,” she paused, exhaling a deliberate stream of smoke toward his face and grinning as his fist closed on reflex.

“Play nice, mate. She’s holdin’ the cards right now.”

Alfie grabbed his tea, doing his best to appear disinterested, even though he was dying to know what she wanted to say about Annie.

“I would like to know when you are planning to tell my sister that you’re in love with her.”

Alfie choked, his careful composure gone in an instant.

"Fuckin. Hell. The sign. MUM SENT A FUCKIN’ SIGN.”

He continued to cough as he reached for his handkerchief, very aware of Mags’ eyes trained on him. He took a deep breath, rearranging his features into one of (mostly) polite confusion.

“You what?”

Mags rolled her eyes.

“My sister. Annie.” She held up her hand. “About yay high, lovely green eyes, runs a little cafe across town.” She stared at Alfie and repeated, “When are you going to tell her you are in love with her?”

Alfie leaned back and interlaced his ringed fingers, his brain whirring. Had he really been that obvious?

“You are always hangin’ round Annie like a lost dog, mate, someone was bound to notice.”

Still, Mags loathed him. Had made that perfectly clear on any occasion they’d run into each other at Annie’s cafe. And while he could normally decipher anyone’s motives, he couldn’t piece together why the hell she’d be asking. So, he took his best guess.

“You tryin’ to prevent that from happenin,’ Mags?“

“On the contrary, Alfie.”

For the second time that day, Alfie was dumbfounded. It must’ve read clearly on his face, too, because Mags laughed.

"Surprised? That makes two of us.” She took another puff of her cigarette before ashing it in the tray on his desk.

“Look, I may not like you, Alfie, but I love my sister.” She leaned forward slightly, and Alfie was further shocked to see the ghost of a smile on her normally serious countenance.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Annie, how you just melt around her. Like she’s your own little piece of heaven.” She paused, seemingly waiting for an objection, and continuing when Alfie didn’t raise one, reeling internally from this unforeseen turn of events.

“I know you’d do anything to take care of her and make her happy. And she didn’t deserve to bury her husband, what she deserves is to be with a man who loves her just as much as Cal did. And as much at it physically pains me to say this, Alfie, I know that’s you.”

Her smile grew more pronounced as Alfie just sat there, rendered speechless for one of the few times in his life.

“My guess is that you didn’t want to tell her while she was married, and I have to give it to you, that was surprisingly honorable.”

Mag’s tone turns more businesslike, more like the Mags he’s come to expect.

“But Cal’s been gone for nearly 4 months now, and all the Irish mothers have started sending in their young, handsome sons now that she took her ring off. If you want to be with her, it’s now or never.”

She shook her finger toward him. “And don’t even try denying it, her entire kitchen has a betting pool going on about when you’ll finally ask her out.”

Well, she had him. Alfie drummed his fingers on the desk, weighing over his options. And he decided his best one was honesty.

“You don’t hear me contradicting you, do ya?” Alfie ran his hands through his hair. “But Mags, it is fuckin’ fanciful that she’d want to be with a bastard like me, innit. You and I both know that An is so far out of my realm, she should be,” he waved his hands toward the door, “in fuckin’ Wales, right.”

“True.”

Alfie threw his hands up.

“So what the fuck are you doin’ here tellin’ me to go after her?”

Mags shook her head, looking at him with something akin to pity.

“You really are daft. Do you think I’d be here in this shithole if she didn’t feel the same way about you that you feel about her?”

“Fuckkkkkkkkkin hell.”

If Alfie’s pulse wasn’t racing before, it sure was now. He wouldn’t put it past Mags to lie about this, but the way she spoke before … Alfie was good at reading people, and he knew she was sincere. But he needed more.

"Well, every man, he craves certainty, Mags, yeah,” he said slowly, hoping she’d give him enough to stop the doubts that had assailed him for months.

"Well, I am certain that my sister is in love with you.” Her tone softened again. “Tell her how you feel, and she’s yours.”

It would have to do. Alfie nodded, a grin breaking out across his face.

"You are actually not tryin to completely fuck me on this? Genuinely.”

Mags sighed.

“No, Alfie, I am not trying to fuck you on this. I’m looking out for my sister and her happiness.” She shrugged. “Even if it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Huh. Well then, I will end this little chat of ours to pick up the pieces of brain that just blew out the back of me skull.” Alfie mimed his head exploding as Mags rolled her eyes.

"Always a pleasure.” She stood up, snapping her bag shut and shifting it onto her shoulder. “Now, you go on over there today so I can stop seeing you two dancing around your emotions like bloody teenagers. And don’t breathe a WORD of this interaction to her. She doesn’t need to know I had to intervene to get you to grow some balls.”

She turned to leave and was almost out the door when Alfie called her.

“Mags.”

She turned around and he raised his cup to her again, this time with sincerity.

“Thank you.”

She smiled back.

“Good luck, Alfie.”

He waited until he heard the echo of her heels fade before he stood up, pacing. He clapped the heels of his hands together, his bracelets jingling.

“Now or fuckin’ never, innit?”

He took a long exhale, chuckling to himself as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Always were direct, weren’t ya, mum?”

He grabbed his coat and hat from the corner and tipped it on before roaring out the door:

“OLLIE!”

He heard a door slam open and hurried footsteps along the corridor, Ollie peeking his head into the office like he was expecting a grenade to be tossed back at him.

“What do you need?”

“Relax, son,” Alfie clapped him on the shoulder, smiling at Ollie’s look of bemusement. “We’re just goin’ to Annie’s.”

And with that, he took another deep breath and the pair of them exited his office.

–

Alfie knew Annie would be closing up soon, which he was counting on to get some uninterrupted time to talk to her. It could be difficult to get her full concentration sometimes — she was always moving, always chatting, always daydreaming about something. And while he normally loved watching her whirl around, today, he couldn’t risk her missing a word he said.

Fortunately, the place was empty when he came in, except for Lily cleaning off tables.

She looked up as the doorbell jingled and smiled, continuing to wipe the tables down.

“She’s in the back.”

“Thanks, Lil.”

Heart pounding in his chest, he walked the familiar path back to the kitchen, letting his fingers hover for a moment on the swinging wooden door before he walked through.

And there she was. Her back was to him but he could picture the look of concentration on her face, biting the corner of her lip just slightly as she piped neat lines of frosting on a tray of pastries in front of her. As usual, her sleeves were rolled up, her dark hair twisted in a French braid over one shoulder. She hummed to herself, absorbed in her work, pausing only briefly as she turned at the sound of Alfie’s footsteps.

And there it was, that smile and that glow in her eyes that had Alfie hopelessly, relentlessly smitten.

“Hey, you.” She turned back to the tray, placing the last finishing touches. She set the piping bag down and wiped her hands on the front of her apron, motioning for Alfie to follow her.

And he would. Anywhere at all, to the ends of the earth to hell and back.

“This is perfect timing, I was gonna call tomorrow and tell you I needed my favorite authenticity judge to come down here.”

His heart swelled at the word favorite. She said he was her favorite. Fuck, he really was a goner.

“That so?” Alfie grinned, watching her cut off a piece of what looked like a freshly baked blintze, the inside teeming with bright berries “You playin’ round with more Jewish recipes?”

“Mhm.”

“Honestly, love, you might as well convert. I can just imagine the look of horror on the bubbes’ faces of being outbaked by a former Gentile.”

Annie laughed and Alfie melted, exactly as Mags described.

“How ‘bout I don’t ruin their lives, hm?” She placed the dessert on a plate and as she reached past Alfie for a fork, she brushed against him, the light contact setting his nerve endings on fire.

“Now shush and taste.” He nodded and took a bite, eyes closing as his taste buds took in the tart berries, the sweet cream, the familiar doughy but not too doughy roll.

“It’s good, yeah?,” Annie asked happily.

“Really fuckin’ good.” He pointed his fork at her. “A culinary magician you are, Annie Murphy.”

She beamed and took a mock bow.

“Thank you, thank you. So, what’s up?”

Alfie paused and took another bite of the blintze before he replied, doing his best to appear casual, even though he swore Annie could probably hear how loud his heart was beating.

“Just wanted to see if you had a minute to chat.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Just me and you.”

“Yeah, ‘course. Is everything ok?”

Alfie could’ve died at the concern in her voice, her desire to make sure he, this mad lone shepherd who had led 35 lambs to slaughter, was safe.

“Yeah, ‘m fine, love.”

Annie nodded, her look of concern turning to one of slight confusion. She hoisted herself onto the counter, legs swinging slightly.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare back out now, mate.”

Alfie took a deep breath and started to speak, his tone much gentler than usual.

“Right. You probably don’t remember much ‘bout the day we met, ‘sides my storming’ in here wantin to kno-

“Know,” Annie cut him off and cleared her throat dramatically before giving a spot-on impression of him, “why the fuck a Jewish woman was working at an Irish fuckin bakery on this side of Camden?!” She grinned. “And then when you realized it was an Irish-Gypsy woman, how an Irish-Gypsy woman learned to make such proper 'fuckin’ challah.’ Hard to forget that, yeah?”

He chuckled, his nervous hands roaming to the chain on his vest as his tone softened.

“Right. But you know what stayed in my head the most? How you didn’t even flinch, ya just stood there and gave me that, that, smile right there, yeah. Too beautiful for words. Said if someone could braid hair, they could braid bread. You made this grumpy ol’ bastard laugh, and you kept doin’ it. So I came back. Kept comin’ back.”

He stopped and drank her in for a moment, this woman that stole his heart when he didn’t think it could be done. The way the stray, dark wisps of hair that escaped from her braid framed her face. How her apron hung tight against her hips. The exposed skin near her collarbones where her soft shirt tugged to the side. The lone streak of flour on her cheek. And of course, those stunning, jade-green eyes that were currently locked onto his, making him forget how to breathe.

“Fuck, she is a dream.”

Alfie’s tore his gaze away from Annie’s and started to pace, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“And then I said to myself, “Alfie, what is this peculiar sensation you are now experiencing?” Like there was some type of drumming goin’ on,” he tapped his temple and chest, “right here and here. And I just thought, ‘Well, we all know you’re touched in the head, so it’s probably just another symptom of our inescapable and utter madness.’ Left it at that.”

“But then I discovered something most interesting over the next few months: that this thing, this feeling, right here, yeah, only happened whenever I saw you. A type of madness reserved solely for the inimitable Annie Murphy. So what could possibly be a diagnosis for something like that, eh?”

“Alfie.” Her voice was quiet, but he pressed on over the interjection. Now that his thoughts were finally tumbling out in earnest, he couldn’t stop them.

“I’m almost finished, love. Right, yeah, so once I realized that it only happened ‘round you, Miss Annie, I knew I was fuckin’ done for.” He laughed, his hand going to the back of his neck. Said, “Alfie, mate, you realize this feelin’ you are carryin’ for this exquisite creature, who is very happily married, mind you, is not going anywhere, it is now an eternal fixture permeating your entire being.

This was it. He paused, feeling his heart reverberating through his bones, and when he dared to look up, Annie was staring right back with a lookthattold him to keep going.

He stopped pacing and looked at her head on.

“What I am tryin’ to fuckin’ say is that whatever remains of this thing in my chest, yeah, it belongs to you. Because I have been in love with you for a very long time, An. Now, you do whatever you fancy with that bit of knowledge, right, but I just needed to finally say it. Out loud. To you.”

One second, two seconds, three seconds, pass and feel like an eternity of silence that Alfie physically can’t take, so he rambled on.

“The alternative of continuing to keep me mouth shut would mean I would have to shoot my balls off because I wouldn’t deserve to keep them. Especially if I ended up seein’ you with one of those fuckin’ handsome little Irish lads who’ve sprung up here like daisies since you took your ring off. So, yeah.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, desperate for some way to shake out how exposed, how vulnerable he felt. “That is that.”

Dread, brutal and blinding, was now coursing through him. Fuck, did she try to cut him off before to stop him from looking like a complete idiot? Her silence spoke volumes to him, this was clearly a colossal fucking misjudgment on his end. What the fuck had he expected, what did he deserve?

“Yeah, time to go, you daft fuckin’ cunt.”

“Right, I will take your silence as you bein’ too sweet to tell me to fuck off, so, I’ll get out of your hair then.”

Annie immediately jolted out of her reverie.

“No, no, no! Don’t go.” She slid herself off the counter, and Alfie was convinced he was going to have a heart attack from this continuing vacillation between fear and hope.

She smiled. “Sorry, I was just … processing. And I still have a hard time knowin’ when you’re done monologuing.”

Then, she was there by him in an instant, close enough for her to wind her hands in his. His eyes met hers with an unspoken plea, practically begging for validation, and he didn’t even care. Because he needed to hear her say it, would burn the world to ashes if it meant he could hear it.

And he did.

“Alfie, I love you too.” His fear finally fell away and he had to remember that he wasn’t dead and this was real — nothing would ever feel this good, this pure, in the afterlife he was destined for.

She was so, so close to him, and he just breathed her in like a drug, warm bread and sugar and something like wildflowers, unmistakably Annie. HisAnnie.

She loved him.

She smiled, a playful note at the edge of her murmur, echoing his own words back to him:

“Do whatever you’d like with that bit of knowledge.”

Pulse alight for all the best reasons, Alfie dropped her hands so he could cradle her face.

“Right, then.”

They crashed into each other, the months of tension palatable in every frantic and tender touch. His lips against hers and the feel of her grin from the soft moan he made when her hands knotted in his hair, tongue sliding past his teeth. He grabbed her hips and it was his turn to smirk at the pretty little gasp she made against him before kissing him even harder. Fuck, this was it, he was in a categorically underserved heaven on Earth.

Until Lily walked through the door.

“Annie, that nut Mrs. McGinnity is out front wantin’ to change her son’s cake again, do you want me to- oh shit, I am SO sorry!”

Annie reluctantly pulled away at the interruption and as Alfie rested his forehead on hers, he was pleased to see her breathing was as labored as his.

“It’s fine, Lil, I’ll be out in a few, yeah?”

“Course!” The door of the kitchen smacked shut, and the two of them dissolved into laughter at getting caught making out like a couple of kids.

“Fuckin’ hell, love.” Alfie traced Annie’s jaw with his thumb and she caught his hand, her eyes trained on his as she brushed her lips over his tattoo, sending goosebumps across his flesh. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ to do that.”

“Well, it’s a relief on my end too.” She pressed her lips back to his again, more gently this time. “I’ve been going fuckin’ mad over here, keepin’ this from you.”

Alfie nodded, still floating in the surreal, dizzy state that seemed suspiciously like happiness.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like, don’t I.”

But then, he noticed Annie’s gaze shift and his heart sank, because those startlingly green eyes were now brimming with tears.

“Hey, hey, An, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really nothing,” she laughed and simultaneously made a noise of frustration, placing the heels of her hand against her eyes and bringing them down again. “I just. I know I’ve been all over the place since Cal died. And uh, it felt like things would never get better, but they have been. And you had a lot to do with that.”

The corner of her mouth lifted at the same time a solitary tear rolled down her cheek, which Alfie stroked away.

“I’m just really happy you wandered into my life, yellin’ your head off about bread.”

“Fuck, Annie, c’mere.”

He pulled her into his arms and she immediately burrowed into his chest, and they stayed like that for a few moments, tangled in each other’s warmth. He pressed his lips to her hair and felt her sigh in contentment, drawing a smile out of him.

“Well I’m glad you’re happy because you’re stuck with me now, ain’t ya?”

“I’m not complainin,” she replied, her voice muffled slightly against his shirt. He pulled back and gently lifted her onto the counter, relieved to see her smiling again.

“There she is.” His tone resumed its normal confidence and he grabbed Annie’s hands in his. “Right, now that we have settled this whole exchange of mutual feelings, yeah. I am takin’ you on a proper fuckin’ date. Wherever you want.”

“Oooh.” Annie drummed her fingers against her lips, thinking. “Let’s do Wilton’s. But fair warning, I’m planning to nick their toffee pudding recipe. Do you know how many people come in here askin’ if I make it like them?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head with a giggle, simply the most adorable thing Alfie had ever set his eyes on. “I’ve just been sayin “yeah,” but I haven’t the foggiest. It’s gonna ruin my street cred.”

“Nah, can’t have that, can we.” He swung her hands lightly. “You want to investigate tonight, then?”

“I can’t. I’m babysittin’ Mags’ kids.” Alfie grimaced and Annie smacked his shoulder lightly. “Come off it, you saw them on one bad day. But I’m free tomorrow.”

“Right, I’ll come get ya ‘round 7.”

“Sounds good,” Annie replied. She wrapped her hands around his neck as she pulled him in for another kiss, only stopping when the sound of rising female voices drifted in from the front of the cafe.

Annie sighed. “I gotta go take care of that.”

Alfie pulled out his watch, matching Annie’s reluctance.

“Yeah, I gotta head off and meet Tommy.” It was the last thing he wanted to do, to step away from the thrill of her touch, her adoration, this temporary respite from the jagged edges of his life. He hadn’t even left, and yet he couldn’t wait to get back to her again.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, savoring the way her eyes lit up in response.

“See you tomorrow, then, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Like any addict desperate for one last fix, he kissed her hungrily, letting her hands trace over his beard and the scarred flesh before he forced himself back, hands clasped against her shoulders.

“Fuck, I cannot get enough of you.” He moved toward the door. “Right, I’m leaving, actually leaving.”

He had one hand on the wooden fixture when Annie called out:

“Alfie.”

And he whipped around so fast he nearly fell over, catching himself on the edge of the wall as Annie tried and failed to hide a massive grin behind her hand.

“Yeah, pet?”

“I love you.”

And he knew in a thousand years or a thousand lifetimes, he would never get tired of hearing her say that, or saying it to her.

“Love you too, An.”

He walked through the doorway and practically skipped his way through the rest of the cafe, still humming as he breezed past an agitated Lily and the even more agitated Mrs. McGinnity.

He strode out into the sunlit street, smirking slightly as he saw Ollie immediately stand up straighter from where he was half-slumped against the car. And before Ollie could even open his mouth, Alfie walked straight up to him and kissed him on the head without a word.

He got into the driver’s seat and rested his head against the steering wheel, a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through his veins as snippets of his conversation with Annie bounced around his head.

He had done it. He had finally told her.

“I love you too, Alfie.”

He heard the passenger door open gingerly and Ollie slid in, and he could practically feel the apprehension radiating off him.

“Are you feeling ok, Mr. Solomons?”

Alfie sat straight up and Ollie started as he clapped him on the shoulder, putting the car in drive.

“Course I am, dear boy. Just a beautiful fuckin’ day, innit? Just lovely, simply lovely.”

Alfie grinned, one hand on the wheel and the other clutching the star pendant that dangled from his neck. Knowing Ollie wouldn’t hear him over the roar of the engine coming to life, he took a second to whisper two much-needed words of gratitude.

“Thanks, mum.”