Archive of Our Own

It all starts with an oat nog latte.

The red to-go cup sitting at her usual spot in roll call takes Lucy by surprise. If the cup’s location weren't clue enough, her name printed neatly on the side dispels any doubts that the drink is, in fact, for her. What's still unclear is who bought it for her.

Nolan is already at their table: perhaps he's the culprit. She takes her seat and studies the cup further, finding the label that indicates the drink is an oat nog latte, her favorite December drink.

“Thanks,” she says, raising the cup to Nolan and nodding.

Nolan refutes her thanks with a shake of his head. “That was here when I got here.”

She's not sure if she trusts a random drink left for her by some unknown person. “Then who …?”

Her eye catches Tim’s. He's sitting a couple tables ahead on the other side of the aisle, peering back at her over his shoulder. He's clearly trying to be subtle, but she knows he's probably not staring at Nolan.

Lucy raises her eyebrows along with the cup, asking You? with her eyes. Tim gestures vaguely with his hands and shoulders in response, half confirmation, half downplay.

She mouths “thank you” across the room as the usual din before roll call reaches a dull roar. Tim crooks a smile at her and nods right as Grey appears and calls for eyes on him.

In the months since his surprisingly heartfelt speech in the elevator, Tim has been delivering respectful small doses of kindness, as promised. If she is working late on a case, he might bring her takeout. When Grey occasionally pairs them together, Tim always handles their war bags and gives her control of the A/C. He’ll offer his input on how she handled a call only if she asks for his opinion, which she often does. Her phone blows up with pictures whenever Kojo does something adorable.

She appreciates how hard he’s been trying, but she can't help but wish he would increase the doses a little, namely by being more present in her life. She wants late-night takeout less than she wants him at the desk across from her. She wants the cute dog pics, yes, but she also wants to run around in the backyard with the cute dog and the cute man behind the camera.

More than anything, she misses his companionship. It’s maybe too soon for an intimate movie night on her couch, but would it kill him to take her out for coffee instead of just bringing it to her?

But maybe he doesn’t want that. She knows he’s kept up with therapy. Maybe he’s taken the time to reflect on their relationship and realized that, while it was valuable to him, it’s ultimately not what he needs in the long term. So he’s committed to giving her his little tokens of appreciation, because he’s a man of his word, but he’s not keen on spending his free time with her or rekindling things.

Lucy sips her oat nog latte and tries to tamp down her longing for days gone by.

The next few days bring a peppermint mocha, a gingerbread latte, a sugar cookie frappuccino, and a flat white that honest to god tastes like snow. Lucy’s amazed that Tim would even set foot in the kind of coffee shop that sells this kind of drink, let alone order something frou-frou there multiple days in a row. Maybe he got some coupons in the mail or something. Whatever the reason, she finds a coffee at her place in roll call every morning for a week.

The next week, they’re riding together. Lucy’s in the passenger seat, a thermos full of break room coffee in hand, as Tim loads the shop. She hears him slam the trunk shut before he claims the driver’s seat, shuts his own door, buckles up, and drops a small drawstring bag in her lap.

“What’s this?” she says, beyond shocked. This morning, she had correctly figured that the Christmas coffee well had dried up. She hadn’t expected a coffee, and she had expected any other kind of offering even less.

“Only one way to find out,” he says breezily, pulling out of the garage and beginning their patrol like it isn’t a big deal to give her a gift for no apparent occasion.

She opens the bag to discover a clutch of her favorite caramel and sea salt truffles, instantly recognizing the light blue wrappers. “Oh my god, yes! I’ve been craving these for two days. How did you know?”

He shrugs, focused resolutely on the road ahead. “You always eat these this time of year. I saw some at the store and thought you might like some assistance feeding your habit.”

He happened upon them at the store, then casually dumped them into a spare velvet pouch he had lying around the house? Hmm.

“Well, thank you,” she says, choosing not to call him out on his thoughtfulness. She pops a truffle into her mouth, loving the tang of salt entwined with luscious caramel.

She insists he take a truffle for himself mid-morning after a simple traffic stop for a broken brake light turns into busting a dealer with a kilo of cocaine.

They’re patrolling the next day when Lucy’s personal phone chimes.

“Dammit,” Lucy says, looking at her phone. “Nolan just bailed on me.”

“Bailed on what?” Tim’s eyes sweep the road ahead of him as he drives, ever vigilant.

“He was supposed to take me in his truck to get a Christmas tree today, but he and Bailey suddenly got a meeting with a social worker, so he’s begging off.” Lucy sighs. “I totally get it, though. Obviously, getting a kid is more important than my Christmas tree. He says he can try to take me in a couple days.”

Tim drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “You could wait a couple days, yeah. Or… maybe I could take you?”

He sounds hesitant to even suggest it, like he’s afraid of overstepping. But Lucy is absolutely thrilled by the thought of spending time together outside of work.

“Really? You would do that?”

“I’ve got a truck,” he says, like that’s enough reason to volunteer his evening to look at Christmas trees with her.

“Okay! That would be great.” She refrains from wiggling in her seat with happiness, but just barely. “Thanks, Tim.”

His face is still turned toward traffic, but she knows his smile is for her.

After work, Tim follows her to her apartment so she can drop off her car, then she gets in his truck. She realizes she almost forgot how high off the ground it is as she hauls herself up, up, and in.

Even though they spent much of the day alone together in almost the exact same position — him driving, her in the passenger seat — it feels a little awkward and charged in Tim’s personal vehicle. She figures Tim is thinking the same thing she is: how they used to drive like this in their off time when they were still together. But now they’re not, because he dumped her, and this is the first time she’s been in his truck in months.

Conversation on the way to the tree lot is a bit painful (like our first date, Lucy thinks unhelpfully). At least once they arrive, they have the distraction of a task to keep them from babbling at each other about traffic or the weather.

After a spirited debate, they determine that they’re looking for a narrow, 7-foot tree that won’t take up too much floorspace in Lucy’s crowded (“cozy,” she insists) living room. They stroll up and down the aisles, scrutinizing each tree.

“This one!” Lucy declares, spreading her arms to mime hugging the splendorous fir. It’s a rich shade of green and smells so fresh.

“Looks the right size,” Tim agrees. “Let’s get it.”

They flag down a lot attendant, who takes Tim’s cash with an indulgent smile as he and Lucy argue over who pays.

“This is my tree,” says Lucy. “Of course I’m paying for it.”

“It’s Christmas,” Tim shoots back. “It’s a gift. I can get it for you.”

“You coming out here with me and hauling it home in your truck is a pretty good gift, too!”

“Let the man pay, miss,” says the attendant. “He’s right. It’s Christmas! He should buy your tree.”

“Thank you,” Tim says pointedly, clearly thinking he’s won this round.

Lucy narrows her eyes, not one to back down easily from Tim Bradford.

“Fine,” she concedes. “You can pay for it. But only if I can pay for yours.”

She takes great pleasure in watching the smug look slide right off his face.

“What? We’re not here for a tree for me.”

“We are now.” Lucy crosses her arms. “Those are my terms: no tree for you, no tree for me.”

Tim splutters, completely thrown. “That’s a ridiculous bargain. I could just let you pay for your own tree, you know.”

“Okay.” Lucy shrugs. “I can pay for my own.”

“No, no,” he says immediately, like she knew he would. “I… I guess I can get a tree.”

Now she’s the smug one.

They settle on a wide, 8-foot fir for Tim. With the attendant’s help, they load both trees in the truck bed and head to Tim’s house.

“I would take you home first, but Kojo’s been alone for a while,” he says on the way. “Better to check on him before he destroys my house.”

It really isn’t a problem for Lucy: she’s eager to see Kojo for the first time in months.

When they arrive, Tim hands her his keys and asks her to unlock the front door and disable the alarm, insisting that he can unload his tree by himself.

“You can fend off Kojo for me,” he says to further persuade her.

Hard to argue with that.

Lucy lets herself into the house. As soon as she’s handled the alarm, she turns to Kojo, who is sitting in the foyer, vibrating with excitement. She calls him over to the kitchen so that they can enjoy their reunion far from the path that Tim will need to take to get the tree into the living room.

“Hey, boy! Who’s my good boy? Did you miss me?” Lucy coos as she rubs the dog all over. He greedily soaks up the attention, lolling his head about so she can get all the good spots.

Tim appears in the foyer, hauling the tree. “Hope I’m not interrupting you two.”

“No, we’re good,” says Lucy, rubbing her cheek against the top of Kojo’s head.

She does abandon the dog to help Tim with the tree. They decide to display it beside the wall across from the window, so that Kojo can still poke his head up on the windowsill without Tim having to worry about him disturbing the tree.

“Where are your decorations?” Lucy says, eyeballing the tree.

“In the garage, where Christmas decorations belong.”

Lucy turns to him, exasperated. “Except at Christmas, when they should be in your house. We need to decorate now!”

“Now? But we just got this tree for me.”

“Yes? So now we should decorate it?” She doesn’t understand his point.

“Don’t you want to decorate your own tree?” he wonders. “You were so excited to get it. Wouldn’t you rather I take you home so you can set it up and decorate your living room like I’m sure you’re envisioning?”

He’s right that she has a Pinterest board’s worth of decorating plans in her head already, but she isn’t ready to leave yet. They’re having such a nice evening together.

“Well,” hedges Lucy. “I like choosing trees and decorating them, period. We’re here now, with your tree. Why don’t we decorate it? Are you really going to decorate it yourself if I leave you to it?”

“I would,” he says. “Maybe not as obsessively as you would, but I’m not just gonna leave a plain tree in my living room for weeks.”

Lucy doesn’t want to push her luck. He did take her to get a tree, like she asked, and he even got his own tree at her insistence. If he doesn’t want her to stick around and help him decorate, she’ll just let him take her home.

Before she can say any of that, Tim muses, “But you do have a better eye for this kind of thing. If you don’t mind, I could probably use the help.”

Lucy beams.

Tim has a surprisingly large collection of Christmas decorations: some inherited from his mom, some acquired during his marriage to Isabel, some bought on sale just because. They get everything on the tree by playing to their strengths, Lucy using her keen eye to arrange everything just so, and Tim using his height to decorate the highest branches.

“Looks almost like a Christmas card,” Lucy says, proud of their work. “It’s only missing one thing. Here, Kojo!”

The dog trots over from his bed in the corner of the room, where he’s been lying while supervising their strange activities, and sits at her feet. Lucy fishes a red bow out of a box and affixes it to Kojo’s collar.

“Now it’s a Christmas card!” she says, pointing her phone and snapping a dozen photos of her good boy in front of their beautifully decorated tree.

“It looks great,” says Tim, stacking the last of the now empty decorations boxes. “Thanks for your help.”

“Thanks for taking me to get a tree,” she says. She stretches her arms up into the air and rolls her head from shoulder to shoulder. “I can’t believe I have to decorate my whole living room now, too.”

“Do you need help?” Tim says. “You just helped me with my living room. Only seems fair if I help you with yours.”

“That’s so sweet of you, but Celina said she wants to help,” says Lucy apologetically. “Apparently, her last roommate didn’t celebrate Christmas and didn’t want to look at decorations all over the place, so she hasn’t decorated a whole living room of her own before. I told her she could go ham on mine.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slump the tiniest bit. “Yeah, that makes sense. Okay. Well. We should go set up your tree for you and Celina, then.”

They head over to Lucy’s and somehow manage to jam her tree into the elevator. They shuffle it around her living room until Lucy is satisfied with its placement by the wall with the high windows.

“Thanks again for your help,” Lucy says, running her hands down her jeans to get the sap off. “I really appreciate it.”

Tim bobs his head and raises his palm to the sky, the picture of nonchalance. “It was nothing. Have fun with Celina.”

After spending practically the entire day together, it doesn’t really make sense to miss him as soon as the door closes.

For the next few weeks, Tim has a new festive dose of kindness for her every day.

When he discovers that she doesn’t have enough string lights to decorate her windows like she wants, he shows up at her apartment with a couple of boxes of lights, some fasteners, and a sheepish grin. He even lets her direct him on how to drape every last bulb.

Once, when they’re station-bound to catch up on paperwork, he wears a Santa hat the whole day. She giggles every time he turns his head and the pom pom on the end of the hat’s long tail glides through the air.

He brings her a pouch of black tea with tiny candy canes in it, complete with a Rudolph mug to drink it in. The tea smells and tastes exactly like Christmas.

When she leaves homemade Christmas cookies in the break room, everyone side-eyes them. Historically, her baking has not been popular at station potlucks.

“They’ve got whole wheat flour and goji berries,” she pleads with her coworkers. They’re also dense enough to crack a tooth, but what else is coffee for?

The only person who goes back for more is Tim, who can’t seem to get enough of them.

“They’re great,” he says, his voice going far above his natural register as he aggressively dunks his fourth cookie into his coffee.

Lucy reminds herself that they’re broken up, and they’re at work, so it’s not appropriate to kiss him.

She’s always enjoyed the Christmas season, but this year has far exceeded expectations, thanks to Tim. The hand-painted ornaments he found for her are front and center on her tree. The darling Christmas cookie cutters he gave her made baking ten times more fun. When she mentioned in passing that Tamara has gotten into vinyl and Lucy wanted to gift her some specific records, he went to the trouble of hunting them down for her, even though he hates the chaos of shopping at the best of times, and December is the worst of times to be a shopper in downtown L.A.

“Are you excited for your Christmas present?” he says one day on patrol.

“My Christmas present?” She holds up the gorgeous snowflake earrings that she had found waiting for her on the passenger seat. “Yeah, I can’t wait to wear these after shift.”

He smirks, watching the road instead of her, as ever lately. “That’s not a Christmas present. It’s December 20. It’s only a Christmas present on Christmas Day. Maybe Christmas Eve, if you’re really good.”

“Oh, did you learn that in your apprenticeship with Santa? That’s where you got the hat, right?”

“Sure did. So don’t question my Christmas wisdom.”

She laughs, and it feels like the hurt of the past few months melts away.

Merry Christmas Eve. Come over to mine after lunch.

That's all Tim’s cryptic text this morning had said. She pulls up to his house, buzzing with anticipation. She’s so eager to see her present, Lucy practically floats up the driveway. She cheerily knocks on the door and dances in place on the stoop.

The door swings open, and Tim greets her with a warm smile. “Hi. Come on in.”

Lucy prances through the door and steps out of her ankle boots in the foyer as she chatters. “Hi! Oh my god, I cannot wait to see what you got me. You've been such a drama queen about it, I know it’s gotta be something big.”

Tim tries to frown, but the urge to laugh is painted all over his face.

“Hmmm let me think,” she says, miming stroking an imaginary beard with her thumb and index finger. “Is it… a new car? You can't possibly have a problem with my Nissan. It's got a 10 billion percent safety rating.”

“I couldn't figure out how to wrap a car,” he says.

“Slap a big bow on there, bam: you're done.” Lucy shakes her head. “Have I taught you nothing?”

“I suppose not.” Tim’s not even pretending not to grin anymore. “Keep guessing.”

He's blocking Lucy in the foyer, his back to the living room. He's probably hiding whatever it is in there.

“A juicer? A new blender? A hot and cold home brew system?”

“A what?”

“It lets you make hot and cold coffee and tea drinks. Here, let me show you a TikTok—”

“God, no,” Tim laughs. “All right, all right. You ready?”

“I've been ready since eight a.m.” Lucy dances in place again. She knows she looks like a dork, but she can hardly contain herself. “Please!”

“Close your eyes.”

She shuts her eyes and covers them with her hands for good measure. Tim chuckles, then she feels him come behind her. He grasps her elbows and nudges her forward several steps into the living room.

“All right, open.”

Immediately, Lucy drops her hands and looks around for her gift. She’s in front of the Christmas tree they decorated together, but there are no presents under it. Instead, there’s Kojo, sitting so pretty with a shiny red bow secured to his collar.

Lucy lights up and turns to Tim, who’s still hovering right behind her with a small smile on his face. She clutches his forearm and gives it an excited little shake. “Oh my god. We’re taking Kojo to get a picture with Santa!”

Tim shakes his head an inch. “That wasn’t the idea, but we can do that, if you want.”

“Oh, I definitely want. Let me see what places are doing pet photos today.”

Lucy whips out her phone with her free hand and goes to begin her Santa research before her brain catches up to what Tim just said.

“Wait. That wasn’t it?” She cocks her head to the side. “What was it, then? We’re … doing a Christmas card with Kojo?” On Christmas Eve? A little late to actually send the thing out in time. “Hmm. You’re giving up your career to become the influencer you were born to be, and you want me to help you launch your Insta with an adorable Christmas picture of Kojo?”

Tim scoffs. “Not before I sprout antlers and pull Santa’s sleigh.”

“Then I’m out.” Lucy’s hand slides off of Tim’s forearm. She squats down beside Kojo and runs her hands all over his meaty head. “What is your big gift today?”

“Kojo.”

Lucy and the dog both look up at Tim.

“Kojo?” she says. Now the dog looks at her. “What about Kojo?”

Tim joins them on the floor and messes with Kojo’s scruff. “I think it's time I give him back.”

“Give him back?” Ice creeps into her chest.

“This was always supposed to be temporary, right? I said I would look after him until you were in a position to take him back.” Tim scratches Kojo's ears and addresses the dog’s neck. “You're not a rookie anymore, so your schedule is more sane. You've got someone living with you who is around a little more and can help out if needed. And I’ve got him all trained, and you can handle him now. You're ready. You deserve him.”

Deserve. Did he really just say that?

Lucy glares at Tim. “And what about Kojo?”

“Kojo? What about Kojo?”

How dare he repeat her words back to her.

“What about Kojo?” she insists. “What does Kojo deserve? Does Kojo deserve to be abandoned?”

“Lucy—”

Finally, Tim has clued in that something has gone terribly wrong in his master plan. He's surely noticed the furious tears in her eyes. But his bewildered expression screams that he has no idea why she's upset. Typical.

“Does Kojo deserve to wonder what he did wrong?” Lucy dimly realizes that she's clutching Kojo now. “Does Kojo deserve to worry about whether he'll ever see you again? If you still care about him?”

“Of course I care about him. He's my best buddy. But you love Kojo, and he loves you. You'll be happier together.”

“Exactly.” Lucy has one arm wrapped around Kojo’s neck while the other scrubs furiously at her face. “Together. God, I can't believe you sometimes.”

Tim slowly shakes his head, his eyes unwavering on hers. He shrugs with an air of helplessness. “Lucy, I don't understand. I… You've told me before that you wished you could come home to Kojo. You've said you miss him sleeping in your bed. You've asked to borrow him on tough days. And I'm offering him to you full time. No middleman, no annoying ex to go through. You can just have him and be happy with him. I don't have to get in the way anymore.”

Lucy’s face is pressed into Kojo's neck, but now she peeks up at Tim. “Is that really how you see yourself?”

“What?”

“Do you see yourself as my ex?”

If possible, Tim somehow looks even more bewildered. “Well, aren't I? We were in a relationship. It ended. That makes me your ex.” He blinks. “Right?”

He sounds like he's really asking, as if he is trying to imagine another possible answer but simply can't see it. Like they could somehow not be broken up right now without his knowledge.

“I thought of it more like we were on an indeterminately long break.” The top of Kojo’s head is a lot easier for her to look at than Tim's face. “Like you needed some time to sort out your life and yourself, but you were going to come back eventually. Like you're not my boyfriend right now, but I’m saving your seat. I thought you gave me all these amazing gifts, planned every surprise and outing so that you could be all romantic and … win me back or something.” She sniffs. “Remind me you know me and care about me.”

“Of course I care,” Tim rushes to say. He seems to unconsciously lean toward her, balanced on his knees. “Of course. I wouldn't have done all this if I didn't care. But I wasn't trying to win you over with little trinkets and Christmas fairy dust. I was just … trying to make you happy.”

“By severing our final personal link, so we stay colleagues forever?”

“By bringing you some goddamn Christmas cheer,” he says, pushing to his feet and pacing across the room. The enormity of his screwup seems to finally be sinking in. “I never, ever want to upset you. I didn't want you to cry.” He flings his hand out to the side. “I didn't want any of this!”

Now Lucy is the lost one. “Any of this? Like…” She gestures to the Christmas tree she helped him select and decorate.

“The breakup. I didn't want that. That wasn't part of the plan. That didn't make me happy, at all, but I did it because I was self-destructing, and I wanted you to get out of the blast zone.”

He's pacing with a vengeance now. Is he even aware that he’s in motion?

“I hate so much that I hurt you like that, but I thought that you would only get more hurt if I let you stay with me. I thought I would drown you, poison you with my own shit. You deserved better than that.”

He sounds so sure. Like he’s reading from the record. She can't stand it.

“Wow, there you go again.”

Now Lucy’s standing, too. Kojo sits by her feet but darts his eyes uncertainly between her and Tim, not liking the tense atmosphere.

“After all this, do you really think you get to decide what I deserve? How the hell do you know what I deserve? I've messed up, too! I'm not perfect! And I'm definitely not so fragile that you have to protect me, especially not from you.”

“I am exactly what you needed protection from,” he says, finally standing still and facing her.

“How could you possibly think that?” Lucy balls her hands into fists and crams them into her thighs.

“Because I was in way over my head and was not emotionally equipped to deal with it, at all. I was in serious trouble. I was a danger to you, to myself — to everyone around me.”

Again with the Tim Bradford knows best voice.

“Hello? That's why you had a partner.” She twirls her hand at herself. “Someone to help lighten your load. Someone who was strong where you were maybe weak!”

Lucy crosses her arms and looks up at Tim from under her eyelashes. “You've trusted me with the hard stuff before. Why couldn't you trust me this time? … What did I do wrong?”

Tim looks shattered. He runs both his hands over his face and takes a fortifying breath in, out. He takes a second breath for good measure, then drops his hands.

“Nothing,” he finally says. “You didn't do a damn thing wrong. It was me. It was all me.”

“Lucy, when I walked away from you, I … I didn't know if you could handle the shit I had stirred up. I … I wasn't sure you would stick with me. If you knew the truth.” He swallows hard. “And I wasn't brave enough to find out.

“It was easier on me to decide for you. If I told you all the shit I had done to land me in hot water, and you walked away? It would have crushed me. You have loved and supported me so many times when I didn't do a damn thing to earn it. I didn't want to find the limit of your unconditional love. I couldn't take the chance.”

He spreads his hands helplessly. “I ruined everything, and I know it. I kick myself every day. And I've been doing all the little things for you, like I said I would, because I needed to do something to show that you are still the center of my world, even if I removed myself from yours. And I dreamed up these Christmas surprises, and I just thought I could make you happy instead of sad, for once. Make you smile. But instead, I pissed you off and made you cry, again, and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Lucy.”

She can't remember the last time he said so many words about his thoughts and feelings all at once. Maybe never. It's almost overwhelming, but she lets it all wash over her. She reaches down to Kojo, who leans against her calf for support.

“So … You weren't trying to win me back?” she wonders. It sounds stupid, now that she's said it twice.

“Honestly? I had no idea that was an option,” he admits. “When I walked away from you, I thought there was no path to getting back together. I hoped we could go back to being friends. But I assumed there was no chance of ever being your boyfriend again.”

Lucy pats Kojo. “So. Are you interested?”

“How is that a question?”

“When someone breaks up with you, it's pretty natural to think they don't want to be with you anymore.”

“Nothing I did was because I didn't want to be with you anymore. You have to know that.”

“And you have to know that you absolutely devastated me. I'm hearing what you're saying about why you did what you did, and I think I can start to understand your perspective. I don't agree, especially with the part about you shutting me out. But it at least makes a little more sense, in a Tim Bradford kind of way. At the same time, I’m going to need to hear it from your mouth. Would you be interested?”

“Interested?”

“Tim.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m a couple steps behind you here.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I … You would really take me back?”

His eyes are brimming with tears and delicate hope.

“I never asked you to leave,” she says. She pauses. “Except literally once, from my apartment. But even after you left me in the dark for over a day, I never thought we couldn't work through it. I never thought it was unsalvageable. After it was all over with Ray, I was ready to do the work to build back trust. I welcomed you back with open arms. And then you walked away.

“Tim, I don't need to ‘take you back.’ If we want this to work out, we both need to commit to doing things differently. Together. As partners.”

“Yeah. Yes. You're right.”

He stares into a dark corner of the room, untouched by Christmas light. With Kojo sitting on her foot, head leaned against her thigh, Lucy waits for Tim to come back into the moment, out of whatever reverie he's slipped into.

Just as she’s reaching the limit of the silence she can take, Tim releases a decisive breath.

“I want to do things differently,” he says. “More than anything. I just … I’m scared I’ll make the same mistakes.”

Lucy smiles. She doesn't think she’s ever heard him admit to being scared. He really has come a long way. This could work this time.

“I think I have a solution to your problem.” Lucy lightly smacks a hand to her chest. “Trust me. Trust me to help you. I've helped you before, haven't I?”

“Yes. Always,” he says, and he's still talking wistfully, like she's a looking glass onto their history together and it cuts him up to even think on their past. Well, she can't have that.

She ploughs forward. “Okay. And you'll help me when I need it, right? Cause I need your support just as much as you need mine.”

He's already nodding before she finishes her question. “Yes. Of course. Yes.”

“Okay, then.” Lucy smiles. “So we’re agreed.”

“Yes?” Even though he answers in the affirmative, he still sounds like he only half-believes what’s going on.

“Yes.” Sometimes, she’s the one who knows best.

“So …” He looks scared already, like he doesn't want to break the spell they’ve cast together, but he pushes through the fear. “So we’re going to try again?”

“Yes, we are.”

“I might not deserve it,” he warns. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do on myself.”

Lucy huffs. Maybe she should invest in a spray bottle to deter him from using the word deserve around her ever again.

“Well, when I become a flawless human being, we can discuss that further,” she says. “In the meantime, you keep at it, and I’ll be there however you need, and we’ll talk and work at building something stronger this time.”

“I—I might need help.”

“Didn't we just go over this? Of course I'll help you.”

“No—I mean, I know, thank you,” he stumbles. “But maybe we should talk to a professional, too. Like a couple’s counsellor.”

That stops her short. It's probably not the worst idea, but it's one she hasn't entertained. She’s pretty sure she's had enough individual therapy to last several overanalyzed lifetimes. She's not crazy about doing a post mortem on one of the most painful experiences of her life with Tim present.

“We don't have to go if you don't want to,” he says, perhaps sensing her hesitation, “but I think it would help hold me accountable. Pull me away from old habits, keeping it all inside. I don't want to screw this up again.”

He's looking at her so earnestly. Her chest warms, and her hesitation melts away. He wants to do this right so badly.

She nods. “Okay. We can do that, if you think it would help. Let's figure that out later, though.” She claps her hands together once. “Because now, we are going to take Kojo to get a picture with Santa!”

For the first time in what feels like hours,Tim cracks a smile. “If that's what you want, sure. After all, he is all dressed up with nowhere to go right now.”

“He is, isn't he?” Lucy scratches Kojo between his ears. “This can be your small dose for the day. Instead of your grand plan to—” she raises her palm in front of her face, checking imaginary notes “—oh yeah, kick Kojo out.”

Tim groans. “It sounded a lot better in my head, okay? I didn't think through the implications.”

Lucy giggles. “I know. I promise I won't bring it up again … at least not for the rest of the day.”

Tim shakes his head ruefully, but his twitching lips once again betray his amusement.

“Come on,” he says, tipping his head toward the foyer. “Let's get going.”

“Hey, just a second.”

During their whole emotional conversation, the entire living room had stood between Lucy and Tim. She had been frozen to the floor, too scared to find out the consequences if she took even a step closer to him. But now, she wants that distance gone.

He watches her curiously until she comes to a stop right in front of him.

“To be clear, I’m not mad at you anymore,” she says, then reaches up and folds him into her arms.

His head falls to her shoulder, his long arms wrapping around her waist with ease. She knows for a fact that he’s tall, but like this, hunched over and sheltered by her, he seems so small and vulnerable.

She gently squeezes him, trying to impress upon him just how much she missed having this closeness with him. When he squeezes her back, it’s with all the tenderness she remembers, with a new sense of gratitude.

Tim bumps her ear with his nose and breathes, “Thank you.”

“Thank yourself,” she murmurs. “You wore me down.”

He snorts and buries himself further in her shoulder.

Lucy feels as light as she did when she first arrived at the house, so excited to see what surprise he had for her. Little did he know that she would pick out her favorite present herself.

“Make my wish come true,” she sings softly, swaying Tim in her arms. “All I want for Christmas…”

Tim’s laugh reverberates in her ribcage. “I hate that song.”

“But it’s a classic! Mariah Carey?” She pulls back so he can see her pout.

He grins at her, and it’s like looking at the sun. “Can’t stand her. Finish a word, already.”

She gasps in mock outrage. “I love her! ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ is my go-to holiday party karaoke song.”

“I’m sure it’s better when you sing it,” he says, and his hands feel so right on her waist.

“I can sing it for you in the car,” Lucy says. She whistles for Kojo. “C'mon, boy! Let's go meet Santa.”

In short order, the three of them are in Tim’s truck. As soon as they’re on the road to the nearest Santa photo op for pets, Tim scoops up Lucy’s hand like he’s been waiting to do that all day. She uses her free hand to queue up Mariah Carey’s Christmas hit on her phone.

“Prepare to be amazed,” Lucy says, wriggling with anticipation.

Tim smiles at her in the passenger seat. “I always am.”

He drives, she sings, Kojo pants in the backseat, and—for the first time in months—everything finally feels right again.