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Tim swirls his whiskey around in his glass, somehow managing to tear his eyes away from her and focusing instead on the sloshing of the amber liquid. He’s just settling his gaze back on the dancefloor when he hears the chair next to him scraping obnoxiously along the floor.
He glances up, surprised to see Angela dropping into the seat.
“Hey,” she says, unceremoniously grabbing the glass out of his hand and downing the remainder of his drink. She ignores the indignant look on his face, not even giving him a chance to open his mouth to argue. “Why aren’t you out there?”
“I was. I have been.” He chuckles. He never much cared for dancing—until Lucy. Guess he just needed the right partner. “Just needed a break.” It’s mind-boggling to him that she’s still out there, moving around happily in her sky high (and dead sexy) heels. His feet hurt just thinking about it. “Where have you been?”
“First night away from the baby.”
“Ah, so you were calling Patrice to check in,” he surmises. Because despite the tough front his best friend puts on, he knows she’s just a big softie when it comes to her family. Makes sense that they’re friends.
Angela shrugs, caught. “Don’t tell Wesley?”
Tim chuckles, shaking his head. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
And then, without meaning to, his gaze shifts back to the dancefloor. He watches as Lucy smiles and laughs as she dances with Nyla and Aaron, unable to look away from the way her hips sway to the music. He can feel Angela’s eyes on him, watching him watch her, but whether it’s the whiskey or the sentimentality of the day or something else entirely, he can’t manage to be bothered by it.
“So,” Angela says after a while, waving her hand around the room. “When are we doing all this again?”
Tim’s eyes widen for a second. Of course Angela is teasing him, it’s basically her love language—it feels like she lives for a chance to give him shit. But when he turns to meet her eye, he sees an almost uncharacteristic softness there.
“Um, I… uh…” He’s tripping over his words, half of his brain still stuck on Lucy out there on the dancefloor, the other now thinking about the velvet box tucked away in the back of his closet.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s nothing but affection behind it. “Timothy,” she says in that Angela way of hers. “We both know you’ve got a ring stashed away somewhere.”
He sees the exact moment that she knows she’s right—probably the same moment his cheeks flush, or the way his mouth opens and closes a few times in fast succession as he tries to come up with some kind of answer. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally settles on, and as much as he tries to keep a straight face, he can’t help but smile.
“You’re an idiot,” Angela states simply before rising from her seat. She starts to walk away—ostensibly for the dancefloor, but they both know she’s going right back outside to call Patrice again—but turns back toward him at the last second. “I’ve had my best woman speech written since your first date. Which I suspect is probably about as long as you’ve had that ring.”
Of course, she’s more or less right about that too (not that he has any intention of telling her that, the last thing that woman needs is a damn ego boost).
He found himself at the jewelry store one morning, many months ago. He was running an errand for Genny, and was drawn to a display of rings. He saw it and somehow, he just knew. It was too soon then, obviously, and hell, it’s probably too soon now, but one of these days it won’t be, and he can’t wait to slip it on her finger and promise her forever.
Tim sits quietly for a few more minutes, plans running through his mind until he hears the music change. The DJ switches from what feels like a never ending stream of pop songs into a moodier slow jam, and he watches as the crowd disperses, smiling when he sees Lucy looking around the room for him.
He’s by her side in a second, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. His hand lands on the bare skin peeking through the cutout at the back of her dress, and if the little gasp of surprise she lets out is any indication, it seems her search for him had been unsuccessful.
“Hi,” he murmurs, his lips dropping to her shoulder, softly kissing her skin as he spins her in his arms.
“Hi back.” She smiles up at him in a way that makes him weak in the knees.
He pulls her close, and then closer still, his lips pressed to her temple as they sway together. “This whole thing is… a lot.”
“What, so you’re saying extravagant floral arrangements and sparkling chandeliers and seven course dinners aren’t your thing?” she responds in mock surprise. And Tim doesn’t have to pull back to know her eyes are twinkling with amusement.
He shakes his head and chuckles, watching as she takes a long look around the ballroom. “It’s definitely beautiful,” she finally says, “but it’s not us.”
Tim tries to ignore the way his heart still races at the casual way she talks about their future. “No? You didn’t dream about a big fairytale wedding when you were a little girl?”
“Not really. I don’t really care about any of that stuff.” She pauses, humming thoughtfully. “I think it’s more about the commitment than anything else, you know? There’s something pretty special about standing in front of everyone and promising forever to the person you love.”
“So no big poofy princess dress for you?” he asks, twirling her around.
She throws her head back and laughs, playful and hearty and filled with pure joy. “No thanks. I think I’d probably pick something a bit more simple than all that. But I definitely wouldn’t say no to seeing you in a tux again,” she adds, a seductive smile on her face as she slowly drags her fingers down his chest. “As long as you’re there, I’ll be the happiest girl in the world.”
It feels like a perfect moment.
And as tacky as it is to propose at someone else’s wedding, Tim’s pretty damn close to dropping down on one knee right there on that dancefloor. He’s saved by the DJ, though, as the first notes of Don’t Stop Believin’ blast through the speakers and everyone rushes out to dance.
For a split second he’s annoyed by the interruption. But when he meets Lucy’s eye as they’re surrounded by their friends, everyone laughing and singing and dancing, he’s struck by how happy he is, how happy she makes him.
And he knows he’ll do everything in his power to make her just as happy.
*
Tim spends the weeks following Nolan and Bailey’s wedding trying to come up with a perfect proposal, the special moment Lucy deserves. But nothing feels right.
So in the end, it’s nothing like any of the ideas he’d considered.
There’s no fancy dinner, no big bouquets of flowers, no sunset walk on the beach.
It happens out of the blue, on a random Tuesday night. He’s in sweatpants and she’s wearing one of his old t-shirts. They’re sprawled out on a lounge chair in his backyard— theirs, he supposes, now that she’s officially moved in—Kojo laying at their feet as they stare up at the stars.
Well, Lucy’s staring at the stars. But Tim can’t manage to take his eyes off of her. He’s suddenly overwhelmed by the same feeling he had that day at the jewelry store, and once again, he just knows.
And so, the words slip out. Softly, gently, so quietly that she might not have heard him, if not for the way his lips are pressed close to her ear.
“Marry me.”