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All day, Lucy thought that there wouldn’t be any amount of baked goods that could help Tim’s cause when it came to hiding her from his mother.
Joy Bradford had shown up at their door like a Category Five hurricane, yet by the time evening rolls around, she ends up being nothing more than a tropical storm, even without bribery baking goods involved.
It took Lucy a lot of processing and emotional intelligence to understand why Tim had kept his mother in the dark, and it’s not something they’ll sweep under the rug easily, but she objectively understands why he did it now, why he chose not to share his best and hardest moments with her in the first place.
Tim had looked so small, standing near the counter stock still, as she made her way into their bedroom. She slowly takes off the clothes she had worn this morning, listening to the low hum of voices and the clinks of pans and utensils in the kitchen as Tim and Joy reconnect over dinner prep.
His heart had been beating so fast for the brief second she had touched his chest and leaned in for a soft kiss, his whole body ready to bolt if she hadn’t grounded him.
Lucy is beyond aware that this is not a conversation that will take one evening to get through and untangle, but she hopes it can be a good start to mend Tim’s relationship with his mother. Because, in all honesty, she understands where Joy comes from, and where Tim comes from, but she knows that this Tim, her very own LIBF Tim, is a very different man from Isabel’s husband Tim that Joy might be more familiar with, and she’s proud of the man he has worked so hard to become.
Their muffled voices disappear as she opts for a quick shower, killing some time in an inconspicuous way. She didn’t have the will to shower in the locker room, she might as well make herself presentable for her first dinner with her sorta-mother-in-law.
The thought of Joy becoming part of her family sends a zing down her spine, Celina’s words echoing even more loudly as she pins her hair up and looks at her reflection in the mirror.
If you don’t wanna be explaining to your kids why Grandma doesn’t know their names, I say you talk to her.
The certainty in Celina’s words, almost as if her and Tim are a foregone conclusion and so are their children, settles warmly into her chest; even more so after her conversation with Joy from a few minutes ago.
Lucy drops her top in their hamper for colored clothes, one of the neat-freak habits Tim had that actually make her life easier, and frowns when she sees that the hampers for the darks and the whites are suspiciously empty.
She blushes at the thought of Joy handling their laundry, especially considering the slightly too revealing lingerie set she knows she had dropped in the darks after last night.
Lucy groans internally, knowing she made a terrible first impression: Joy barely knows she’s her son’s girlfriend, let alone that they live together and engage in lingerie-worthy bedroom activities as often as their laundry might suggest.
She tries not to die of embarrassment by showering quickly, trying not to spiral too much at the thought of being judged by Joy.
Lucydecides to get a bit more dressed up than she would do at eight o’clock on a Monday night in her own home in the hope of redeeming herself, because her suspicions were correct when she goes into the laundry room and finds different piles of clothes for her and Tim’s stuff, her black lacy bras hanging proudly from the drying rack, next to the similarly lacy and very tiny panties.
She is so going to get mocked about this for the rest of her life. She has no idea how she’ll be able to look Joy in the eyes ever again.
On a good note, Lucy managed to kill thirty minutes while self-combusting with mortification. She knows that if she lingers even longer, it’ll become too obvious, so she makes her way back into their kitchen, and the smell assaulting her is divine.
Tim’s back is to her. He has shed his tan jacket, now hanging in the hall, and his gray t-shirt is streaked with a hint of flour on his right flank. He has this bad habit of using his old tees as an apron when he’s baking, wiping his dusty hands on the side of his pants, but he clearly forgot he was still in his work clothes.
Lucy can smell roasted carrots and chicken in the oven, and she sees Tim flattening dough that clearly doesn’t look like bread.
He is chuckling at something his mother said, and Joy has placed her hand high on his back, rubbing a soft circle in a way that is so familiar as she studies his work.
“You really are a pro at kneading now,” she hums, and Tim’s smile brightens.
All of the tension from this morning and earlier this evening is gone, his whole body focused on taking a glass and using it as a cutter for whatever he’s making. It looks like something sweet, probably some kind of cookie or shortbread, considering how he’s shaping them.
“Lucy loves your lemon loaf recipe, by the way,” he adds, grinning.
“Oh, I can take a hint,” his mother says, laughing in return.
Lucy’s body loosens. She can practically see that Tim’s red-rimmed eyes are the consequence of a tough conversation, but the ease between mother and son warms her heart.
“Oh, Lucy. You look refreshed,” Joy says the moment she notices her presence, smiling softly as she steps back from Tim.
Tim interrupts whatever he’s doing to turn to her fully, his eyes soft and crinkly at the edges, telling her that he’s fine, that they’ll talk about it later, when they’re alone, but that she shouldn’t worry. She knows he’s not faking his reassurance to protect her, that their moment had shifted something in his relationship with his mother that she’s curious to learn about.
“It’s been a day,” she sighs, a wave of exhaustion going by her. “One last thing, then I’ll stop with the work talk,” Lucy adds, a bit nervously. “The PR department might call tomorrow. Celina and I probably ended up in a couple of live ClipTalk videos or two.”
Tim takes a deep breath. “Tamara sent me a link and a sticker of it already,” he says, genuinely rolling his eyes in a way that projects both affection and annoyance with the young woman.
“So that was you on TV, then?” Joy says, her smile big. “I thought I recognized you, but I wasn’t sure, with the uniform and all.”
“I hope the video was from the moment we saved the day?” Lucy asks, blushing.
“Well, there were three little girls hugging you and a woman in handcuffs, so I believe it was.”
Tim’s eyes turn to her, softer than before, making all of her embarrassment melt away.
“Tamara sent that too. Caption was ‘Better Sergeant than you, Bradford’ and I’m not sure if I should be offended or proud. I am definitely proud of you, though,” he says, her heart warming. “Can’t kiss you now because my hands are covered in biscuit dough, but imagine I have,” he says, sending her an air kiss.
Lucy giggles, though she’s quick to sober up when she notices the awe in Joy’s eyes at their interaction. Her cheeks are stained red again, so she chooses to deflect.
“Biscuits?”
“Yup. My mom makes this amazing chicken pot pie with biscuit dough, so we also decided to make some extras for our breakfasts to go.”
“I hope he didn’t force your hand on that because he knows how much I love chicken pot pie,” Lucy tells Joy.
The older woman shakes her head, smiling. “Tim will never admit it, but it was his favorite dish growing up; I’m always happy to make it for him when I visit.”
“I like all of your cooking, Mom,” he says, shaking his head.
“Yeah, but you were always hanging around the kitchen with your homework or your toys whenever I made it, so you could get an extra piece for helping me,” she says, using her fingers to make quotes for the last part.
Lucy can’t help but giggle at the thought of a young Tim hovering around the kitchen, just like he does when she makes him dumplings from scratch. That’s probably the only thing she knows she’s much better at kneading, not for his lack of trying.
“You know that one of his nicknames at work now is The Bread Fairy, right? Though my favorite is still Sergeant Breadford.”
Tim gasps. “Lucy! You can’t be spreading nicknames around like that!”
“I’m not. That was all Smitty. Though I clearly heard a bunch of other officers use it when they talk about their Watch Commander.”
Tim sighs, rolling his eyes, clearly annoyed.
“He has a reputation for being the best bread baker in all of Mid-Wilshire station,” Lucy explains, watching how Tim’s cheeks pink up at the praise. “And I have to agree. Might be in the top five reasons I moved in, actually,” she teases him, watching as he discreetly flips her off unseen from his mother.
“You bake, Timmy?”
“My therapist suggested it, and I realized I enjoy it,” he replies, some of the playfulness replaced by serious looks, his tone dropping. “Baking keeps me grounded and less angry.”
“Yeah, cooking keeps your mind off things,” Joy continues, sighing wistfully, her mind clearly wandering to a different time and a different kitchen.
They’re toeing the line now of this conversation going awry, so Tim is quick to steer it in the direction of bread-baking and more cooking, asking for tips about making these biscuits he clearly doesn’t need.
He’s only made them once, on a weekend when he was feeling a bit maudlin after a tough Friday therapy session, and now she understands why that happened. The fact that she now knows what she was only suspecting doesn’t make them any less delicious. She had devoured some then, and she is eager to try the chicken pot pie now.
The smell of it almost makes it worth the family trauma being dragged up by a single recipe.
Maybe she should make them her lotus root soup to even things out, if Joy is planning on staying for a few days.
During dinner, they keep the conversation light and easy, avoiding work and delving instead into Tim’s interests, as well as the relationship Joy had no clue about.
Tim shares the parts that make everyone smile, the way he asked her on a date all nervous and sighing, together with their first interrupted date, but he avoids mentioning their breakup last year, or the way they almost cheated on their respective partners after Vegas.
Joy asks all the right questions that make Tim blush and make Lucy feel warm and fuzzy at the sight of his love on such display. She really meant it when she said that his emotional availability is a turn-on.
The fact that the biscuits and the chicken pot pie are amazing is only the cherry on top of a wonderful evening, something Lucy could not have expected from the start of their morning.
She feels his hand rub her thigh softly as they’re wrapping up dinner, piling up their dishes before getting up to clear the table.
“I got this. You go and relax. Keep chatting with my mom about my most embarrassing moments,” he tells her, making her giggle as she leans in for the quickest kiss.
Kojo follows her and Joy diligently, making Tim roll his eyes at the dog’s loyalty to Lucy. They both settle in the living room, Lucy angled in a way that she can still see Tim, Kojo sitting with his muzzle on her thigh, ready for more pets, then moving to Joy to receive even more belly rubs.
“I hope he wasn’t a bother today,” Lucy says, nodding in the direction of Kojo. “I’m trying to convince Tim to leave him home alone and this was a nice, supervised trial run.”
“He was a good boy,” Joy says, her voice high-pitched as she scratches Kojo between his ears, the dog melting under her scratches. “Timmy always wanted a dog, but we only got as far as giving him a hamster.”
Lucy grins. “Tim told me about Mr. Meatball and his adventures in third grade.”
“That was a fun call from the principal’s office.” Joy starts laughing then, the memory still vivid.
“Tim swears this is still his most embarrassing memory,” Lucy continues, her smile soft and warm at the delight in Joy’s face.
“That kid loved his hamster so much. Sometimes more than Genny, I’m afraid,” she says, raising her voice a tad to tease Tim.
“I heard that!” he calls out, shutting off the tap and turning toward them with a mix of amusement and fake anger on his face.
“Tom always said two kids were enough work as it is, adding a dog would be too much. I did cave when Tim saw Mr. Meatball on display at the pet store, though. He gave me the eyes, and I was done. Mr. Meatball came home with us two days later.”
“He can be pretty convincing when he wants to,” Lucy says. “I bet that was even more effective when he was eight,” Lucy says, wistfully.
Her mind is still trying to conjure up a picture of her boyfriend as a little kid when Joy pulls out her phone and scrolls for a few moments, before turning the screen to Lucy and showing her exactly what she couldn’t picture: in the photo, she can see Tim and Genny side by side on his first day of third grade, Genny in pigtails, slightly frowning, a sign saying “Happy first day of school!”, Tim missing a tooth from his wide grin and holding Mr. Meatball in his hands, immensely proud.
She can see the same joyful little boy peek out of her LIBF, these days more and more, how carefree and happy he looks here compared to the soft smiles and steady care she’s blessed with every single day.
If she lets herself daydream, she can picture their children having the same unrestrained grin.
“I like to keep this picture handy, to remind myself what I have,” Joy says. “Even if I almost ruined it,” she adds, her tone dropping.
“Look, Tim is…a protector. And this extends everywhere in his life, but especially to the people he loves the most. I know how frustrating that can be, but he shut you out to protect you. He did the same to me, and it took me a long time to come to terms with that,” Lucy admits, her turn to deepen the conversation. “He is becoming a much better communicator now, but he’s still rough around the edges sometimes. But he’ll come around,” Lucy tells her, smiling.
Joy smiles back, her whole face softening, relaxing, then she sighs slowly.
“I can see why you and Tim are a good match,” she tells Lucy, making her blush. “I’m so glad he found someone who loves him like you do.”
“He loves me back just as fiercely,” Lucy replies, her eyes moving to Tim, who is closing the dishwasher softly, still fully focused on the task at hand.
Kojo picks this moment to hop on the couch next to Lucy and sprawl on her lap, breaking the moment as he tries to nuzzle her arm for more butt scratches.
After Tim joins them on the couch, the evening stretches full of laughter and easy stories from Tim’s childhood and her own, all three of them letting go of the tension that was there in the morning.
Joy is the first one to retreat to the guest room, claiming exhaustion after her flight, leaving Lucy and Tim alone. They also decide to move their conversation to the privacy of their bedroom, because some things are better shared in the cozy comfort of a blanket and each other’s arms.
“How many embarrassing childhood photos of me has my mom shown you while I was cleaning the kitchen?” Tim asks the moment Lucy had turned off her bedside lamp and snuggled into his side.
She can barely see his profile now, her eyes still adjusting to the dim light coming from the streetlights outside and the guide light they installed in the bathroom while Lucy was on the night shift and they kept after Tim started coming home when Lucy was already asleep, waking her with any sort of bedside or hallway light.
“Just you, Genny, and Mr. Meatball,” she replies, giggling.
Tim’s groan rumbles under her ear, making her laugh even more.
“Shh, you’re gonna wake her!” Tim hisses, and Lucy simply buries her laughter into his chest, both of them unable to keep the mirth off their faces.
“Now I feel like a teenager sneaking into your room because our parents disapprove,” Lucy tells him, her eyes finding his in the dark. “Well, my parents definitely fit this description,” she continues, rolling her eyes, before she runs her hand through his hair.
“My mother doesn’t,” Tim tells her, leaning up to kiss her softly.
She melts into the gentle movement of their lips, their breaths mingling as they both sigh in contentment when they pull away.
“I like your mom,” Lucy says, winning the softest smile from Tim. “I can see who you take after,” she adds, and his eyes are misty.
Tim doesn’t say anything, he just kisses her again, deeper and more meaningful this time around, pulling a soft groan from Lucy.
“If she wasn’t in the other room I’d definitely do more than kiss you,” Tim says, letting out a huff of frustration.
“I can be quiet,” Lucy shrugs. “And she knows what we do in the bedroom.”
“What?!? How?!?” he half-gasps, half-squeaks, trying to keep his voice down. Lucy has never heard a more adorable sound come out of Tim Bradford before, and the wide-eyed look only completes the adorableness of the picture.
“Remember what I was wearing two nights ago? The black lace?”
Tim’s jaw slackens for a moment and his eyes glaze over, clearly recalling their very enthusiastic evening, before he snaps back to being horrified when he connects the dots.
“She did the laundry.” He visibly gulps, forcing another smile out of Lucy.
“My lacy set is hanging with the delicates in the laundry room.”
Tim groans, leaning fully onto his pillow, defeated. “This is more embarrassing than when she saw me kissing my girlfriend on our couch.”
“Was your hand on her boob?” Lucy says, “Cause you like doing that.”
“We weren’t there yet.”
“Aww, young love,” Lucy says, before she gentles him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“My mom grounded me when my first boyfriend kissed me on our porch after our date. She had no idea we had been dating for months and I had just given him a blowjob in his car.”
Tim gasps into her mouth, his eyes widening.
“Bold, Chen.” He grins against her mouth, her body plastered fully against his now.
“I still snuck out from my bedroom window,” she adds. “I lost my virginity to him a week later out of spite, basically,” she laughs, while Tim shakes his head.
“You must have been a firecracker in high school.”
“I had great grades and I loved learning. But I also hated my mom so much that I did a lot of stupid things out of spite. Including sex.”
Tim cups her face softly, rubbing her cheek.
“I stopped with random hookups the moment I got into college,” Lucy tells him. “There was nobody to ground me then.”
Tim sighs, kissing her softly, running his hand down her back.
“Your mom really is a piece of work. You’ll have to hold me back when I officially meet her.”
Lucy smiles. “I’ll see if you can meet her before the wedding. I’d hate to ruin the ceremony,” she says, winning a smile so brilliant from Tim it can light up the darkness of the bedroom.
He kisses her until they’re both laughing and breathless, their bodies tangled together.
“I do believe those high school years were very formative for you though,” Tim says, his nonchalant tone stopping Lucy’s laughter and turning it into a smile. “You probably give head better than any other partner I’ve had,” he says, shrugging.
Lucy’s eyes widen, almost offended. “Probably? Really?”
“Mmm. Might need a refresher when my mom leaves.”
Lucy’s hand sneaks under the covers and touches the edge of his pants, feeling his abs contract in response to the featherlight touch.
“That’s gonna be a long few days for you, Bradford,” she says, her hand moving under the fabric of his pants to cup him through his boxers.
His whole body stiffens and he gulps.
“I can give you a demonstration now if you want. Prove that I’m your best,” she tells him mischievously, practically batting her eyelashes.
She knows it doesn’t take Tim long to give in to her avances when her hand is literally in his pants, but she likes the chase. She also loves feeling him react to her words and her touches so quickly and intensely. She’s pretty much the same when it comes to Tim touching her, after all.
“Lucy –” his protest is weak and she smirks before she kisses him.
“I’ll be quiet,” she says, before she ducks under the covers and keeps her mouth occupied by anything but talking.
Tim has to use his pillow to avoid waking up his mother, but neither of them has any regrets come morning. In fact, they manage to sneak in a couple of rounds of quiet, morning sex before the sun is even up.
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