Chapter Text
Birdie knew when people were lying. Always. With one exception, and she was working on that.
Simon had been her blind spot from the day they met, all those years ago.
Hence, her current drinking partner. Looking at the professional spy sitting on her couch, Birdie set down her wine glass and snagged a cracker with a hunk of cheese.
“Thanks for coming over, Emma. The reason I suggested wine night…”
A few hours earlier that day…
Birdie absentmindedly wiped the bar top with a towel.
Working alongside him over the past few weeks on some cons was scrambling her brain. All the walls she’d built over the past ten years, walls to keep thoughts of him out, to keep her heart intact... she glanced over at one of the framed pictures hanging in the bar.
“I feel ya,” she muttered to the image of the Roman Forum ruins.
Even the best built fortifications crumbled with time and an earthquake or two. Seeing Simon with their daughter, Ollie, definitely quaked her heart walls. A little more mortar dissolved each time she trusted him again, each time he came through for her and her family.
It was getting harder and harder to resist the pull. To resist letting him back in. Bricks crumbled away even as she had the thought.
Annoyed with herself, she poured another pint for Shelby and a shot for Pike. The regulars exchanged silent questioning looks with each other, shrugged and traded drinks when Birdie moved away.
Charlie noticed his sister’s distracted mistake. “You good, Bird?” He raised his brows, slightly concerned when she only hmmmed in response.
Honestly, she hadn’t really heard her brother’s question. Simon’s eyes were staring back at her in her mind’s eye, shining with affection. Her pulse stuttered, in response – or was this anxiety?
Birdie shook her head, smiled apologetically at her brother when he nudged her shoulder with his own. “Sorry, what did you say?”
He took the towel from her hands, stopping her from wiping the same area of the bar top that she’d just cleaned a few minutes ago. “What’s going on with you, eh? You’re a million miles away.”
The bar was fairly quiet. Most of the happy hour crowd had left for home. A few regulars and neighbors lingered, gossiping and joking with Fran and Leo. Father Diego was playing darts with Ollie.
“Is it Pop? You worried he’s getting worse?” Charlie muttered to Birdie, softly enough so their parents wouldn’t hear.
Birdie shook her head. She glanced at Fran and Leo, then Ollie. Turning away so no one but Charlie could see her face, she mouthed “Simon.”
In a louder tone, she said, “I’m OK. Just tired.” It wasn’t exactly a fib – her brain was exhausted from doing circles around the same questions and worries.
When Charlie suggested she take the rest of the night off, her initial reaction was a stubborn refusal. How many times do we tell ourselves we’re fine when we’re not? How often do the strongest among us accept help when offered?
Pausing to consider her brother’s offer, she realized there was something she needed.
“Would it be weird if I invited Emma over? I need a Girls Night In.” She studied Charlie’s face, clocked the surprise and pain that he quickly covered. He smiled, nodded. “Good plan. Yeah, invite her. We’re good.”
Liar. Birdie decided to investigate those fibs another time. She merely raised one brow instead, for now.
Pulling her phone from her back pocket, Birdie shot a quick text to Charlie’s former (current? What the heck was going on with these two now anyway?) girlfriend and one of the smartest, most badass women ever.
Emma was just as good at reading people as the Nicolettis. She’d recently met Simon on several occasions. Maybe the CIA officer had some gut insights there -- an outside-the-family perspective wouldn’t hurt.
Birdie’s phone lit up with a reply not a minute later. “What time? Red or white or both?”