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The ballroom gleamed under a dozen crystal chandeliers, each one casting soft golden light over polished marble floors and clusters of Los Angeles’ wealthiest patrons. The buzz of laughter, soft music from a string quartet, and the clinking of champagne flutes filled the air.
Tim stood with a glass of bourbon in hand, his tux well-fitted. Beside him, Angela looked effortlessly put-together in a sleek black gown, Wesley at her side sipping wine. Genny was already scanning the room, sizing up every eligible bachelor in a tailored navy suit that screamed power and charm.
Tim took a sip of his drink, ignoring the way Genny elbowed him gently anytime someone remotely datable passed by. Angela was halfway through explaining the silent auction setup when she suddenly paused.
Tim followed her line of sight. And stiffened.
Claire.
She caught sight of their group and immediately walked in their direction.
Tim turned slowly toward Angela, his jaw tightening. “You didn’t.”
Angela blinked at him innocently. “Didn’t what?”
He gave her a look that could sear through metal.
Angela huffed. “She’s likely on the donor list. Patrice probably reached out—”
“Angela.”
Wesley raised a glass to his lips and muttered behind it, “And so it begins.”
Genny’s eyes flickered between Angela, Wesley, and Tim. “What begins?” she asked.
Tim exhaled through his nose, clearly bracing himself as Claire approached.
“Angela,” Claire called as she made it to the group, smiling easily in a soft green gown, drink in hand. “I was wondering where you were hiding.” She leaned in for a cheek-kiss.
Angela smiled warmly. “You look stunning.”
Wesley leaned in for a quick hug. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Claire said with a laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “And for such a good cause, too. Plus, I figured it was time to break out something other than workwear.”
Tim stayed quiet until Claire turned to him.
“Hey, Tim,” she said, tone casual but not distant.
He gave her a polite smile. “Claire. Good to see you.”
Genny had been enjoying her champagne, but paused mid-sip when Tim mentioned the woman’s name. Claire turned towards her. “Hi,” she said, offering her hand. “Claire. A friend of Angela and Wes.”
Genny accepted the handshake. “Genny,” she said then nodded toward the man at her side. “Tim’s sister.”
“Oh, it’s great to meet you.”
Genny gave a soft smile, not quite warm, not quite cold. “Likewise.” She looked at Tim.
“Well,” Claire said, clearing her throat, sensing the awkwardness. She turned her attention back to the group. “I think I’m going to check out the silent auction. I’ll be at the table in a bit.”
As she walked off, Genny turned to her brother, one brow lifted. “That was Claire?”
Tim gave a slow nod, his eyes following Claire—expression unreadable, jaw tight.
Genny’s gaze drifted to Angela, her tone sharpening. “Okay… what exactly is going on here?”
Angela took a leisurely sip of her drink, a glimmer of mischief flickering behind her lashes. “Claire’s here to support the cause. Bid on silent auction baskets. Drink too much wine. Totally harmless.”
Genny didn’t buy it. “Uh-huh. And it’s just pure coincidence you invited both her and Tim to the same black-tie event?”
Angela smiled, entirely unbothered. “They used to date for what—a month? Big deal. They’re both adults. I promise, I’m not trying to rekindle anything between them.”
Genny narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
Tim let out a quiet sigh. “I’m going to need another drink.”
~
Lucy adjusted the strap of her clutch as she stepped into the ballroom, heels clicking against the polished floor and her navy dress hugging just enough to be classy and lethal at once. The place was buzzing—the warm hum of conversation layered over the soft swell of a string quartet.
“I feel underdressed,” Aaron muttered adjusting the cuff of his perfectly tailored tux.
Celina snorted. “Please. You’re wearing cufflinks that cost more than my rent.”
Aaron nodded his head toward Lucy. “Yeah, but I didn’t know she was going full smoke show. Now we just look like her poorly dressed entourage.”
“Speak for yourself,” Celina said, tossing her hair. “I look amazing.”
Lucy shot Aaron a look. “Don’t start.”
“What? I’m just saying—Tim would combust if he saw you in that dress,” Aaron commented.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “We are not invoking that name tonight.”
“Okay, okay.” Celina held up her hands. “No Tim talk. Let’s focus—we’re here to support the children. By drinking our weight in alcohol.”
Aaron nodded toward the bar. “Speaking of drinking…”
The trio made their way through the crowd, weaving between tables draped in gold linen and elegantly dressed attendees. Lucy took it all in—how far removed it felt from patrol shifts and paperwork. It was surreal.
And yet… beneath the glamour, her stomach twisted. She wasn’t sure if it was the heels or being out of her comfort zone, but something about tonight already felt different.
Celina looped her arm through Lucy’s. “You okay?”
Lucy offered a smile. “Yeah. Just taking it all in.”
“Good,” Celina said. “Because the bar is calling, and I fully intend to make us answer.”
~
Tim stepped up to the bar, setting down his empty glass. “Another bourbon, neat,” he told the bartender.
The bartender nodded and turned to prepare the drink.
Tim exhaled, turned around and leaned against the edge of the bar. His eyes scanned the crowd. Genny was across the ballroom, deep in conversation with a sharply dressed man —exactly her type. Wesley stood near the back wall, locked in what looked like a tense discussion with Patrice, who was gesturing dramatically with her champagne flute.
And Angela? Nowhere to be found.
Tim scoffed quietly to himself. She was probably off in a corner somewhere, patting herself on the back for tonight’s disaster of a setup.
Angela had clearly orchestrated the whole thing with Claire—that much was obvious. What Tim didn’t understand was why. Especially knowing everything that had happened with Lucy. Was this her way of trying to distract him? Get his mind off Lucy by throwing someone else in his path? If so… she didn’t know him as well as he thought.
Maybe he should’ve fought harder not to come. But Genny had agreed to be his buffer, and for a moment, he’d actually believed he’d outmaneuvered Angela if she was up to something. He should’ve known better.
The bartender returned and set a fresh glass of bourbon in front of him. Tim gave a brief nod of thanks, reaching for it—only to pause when Claire stepped up beside him.
“Silent auction is a bust. Unless you’re in the market for goat yoga or a weekend at a yurt with no Wi-Fi,” she said.
Tim gave a faint smile. “I’ll pass.”
Claire studied him for a moment, her expression softening. “You okay?”
He shifted with discomfort. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Angela... she didn’t say anything. And if this feels like—”
“A setup?” she finished, one brow raised as she shrugged. “It kind of is. But I’m not mad. I needed an excuse to wear this dress.”
A thoughtful stillness overtook his face. “I just don’t want to lead you on. I’m not...” He hesitated, then forced the truth out. “I’m still not over my ex. Not even close.”
Claire reached out and gently touched his arm, the gesture surprising in its gentleness.
“I figured,” she said. “And it’s okay. I’ve actually been seeing someone, kind of casually. He’s on a case tonight, and when Angela offered the ticket... I didn’t feel like sitting at home.”
Tim blinked. “So Angela didn’t tell you I’d be here either?”
Claire laughed lightly. “Not a word. I walked right into the trap.”
Some of the tension in Tim’s chest eased, just enough to breathe again. “So... no hard feelings?”
“None.” She lifted her glass. “To finding what we’re really looking for.”
He clinked his glass to hers, grateful.
~
Lucy stood at the edge of the bar, posture relaxed, her third cocktail in hand—something floral and unique that Celina had insisted she try.
For the first time in days, she felt halfway human again, like she wasn’t overanalyzing everything or waiting for the next emotional sucker punch.
And then it hit.
Not the drinks. Not the music. Something deeper. A shift in the atmosphere, sharp and immediate. That eerie sixth sense honed from years of patrol—except this wasn’t danger.
It was him.
She didn’t have to turn to know. Her skin knew. Her breath hitched. She looked anyway.
Across the ballroom’s mirrored bar, on the far side beneath a sconce dripping with crystals, Tim Bradford stood in a tuxedo, all sharp lines and devastating familiarity. Bourbon in hand. Watching the crowd like he belonged anywhere but here.
Lucy’s heart stuttered.
And then she saw her.
That same woman from the restaurant. Claire. The one he’d been on a date with the night they ran into each other.
She was next to him, perfectly poised, sipping a glass of wine. Her fingers brushed Tim’s arm, and she leaned in with an easy smile—like they belonged here. Together.
Lucy’s stomach turned. “Wow,” she muttered, barely audible, but the edge in her voice cut clean.
Celina’s head snapped toward her. “What?”
But Lucy didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on Tim across the bar, her expression shifting from relaxed to something far more volatile.
Celina followed her eyeline, expecting Tim. That part she was prepared for. What she wasn’t prepared for was Tim and another woman. Standing side by side. Looking cozy.
Celina’s brow furrowed. “Wait... who the hell is that?” Sure, she knew Tim was supposed to be here—Angela had made that crystal clear. This whole night was a setup designed to push Lucy and Tim back together. But this? The woman? That was not part of the plan.
Celina nudged Aaron with her elbow, subtle but sharp. He turned mid-sip, following her gaze—and stopped cold.
Celina’s hand slid gently onto Lucy’s arm. “Hey. Deep breaths, okay? It might not be what it looks like. Could just be some random woman being friendly.”
Lucy didn’t look away from the bar. Her jaw was clenched, her heart pounding hard in her chest. “No,” she said tightly. “That’s Claire. The woman he was seeing before we ran into each other a few weeks ago.”
“So, he brought a date?” Celina whispered to Aaron.
“I don’t think so,” Aaron replied. “I mean, Angela didn’t say anything about—”
Lucy’s head turned slowly, her voice cutting through his excuse before he could finish.
“What does Angela have to do with this?”
Celina and Aaron both froze like deer in headlights. Busted.
Aaron, the least subtle human on Earth, immediately tried to recover. “Nothing. I mean, not like—technically—”
Celina jumped in. “She mentioned the fundraiser to us. That’s all. It’s Patrice’s event. Angela just thought it’d be nice for all of us to come out and support the cause. You know. The children...”
Lucy stared at them.
“Try again,” she said coolly.
Celina exhaled. “Okay. Fine. Angela may have sort of... bought the table. And she might’ve strongly encouraged us to invite you. And she invited Tim. Who brought Genny. And—I guess—Claire.”
Lucy’s eyebrows lifted. “So this was a setup.”
“Not a setup setup,” Aaron said quickly. “More of a... serendipitous social convergence.”
Lucy gave him a look.
Celina sighed. “Okay, it was a setup. But not like that. We didn’t know Claire would be here. Seriously.”
“Total curveball,” Aaron added. “Unplanned. Very off-script.”
“Unbelievable,” Lucy muttered.
Celina leaned in. “For what it’s worth, you look really hot.”
Aaron nodded. “Like, vengeful goddess hot.”
Lucy didn’t smile. But her lips twitched. “And Angela thought this was going to help?”
Celina hesitated. “Maybe not this exact moment, but... yeah. She just wanted you and Tim in the same room.”
Lucy let out a quiet hum—sharp, unimpressed. Her gaze drifted back to the bar, then slowly scanned the ballroom… landing on Angela, who was laughing at something Wesley said, blissfully unaware of the storm she’d set in motion.
Lucy didn’t say another word. She downed her drink and set her empty glass on the bar with a quiet clink. She straightened to her full height, shoulders squared, chin high.
Celina and Aaron exchanged a silent, panicked glance.
“Lucy,” Celina said gently, “maybe take a beat before—”
But Lucy was already moving.
Charging, really.
Her heels clicked across the ballroom floor, slicing through the laughter and live music with surgical precision. She weaved past a couple swaying to the quartet and barely dodged a server carrying a tray of champagne, eyes locked on her target like a heat-seeking missile.
Angela.
The architect of the entire disaster caught sight of Lucy’s approach.
“Oh, perfect,” Angela muttered, setting down her wine.
Genny followed her line of sight. Her eyebrows shot up. Her eyes darted to Claire still by the bar with Tim, then back to Lucy, the dots connecting in real time. “You didn’t,” Genny whispered, stunned. “Angela… tell me you didn’t.”
Angela gave a half-hearted wave of dismissal. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
Wesley, seated beside them, glanced up and quietly braced for impact.
Around the ballroom, heads began to turn. The shift in energy was impossible to ignore.
Tim was still standing at the bar, half-listening to something Claire was saying, when the sudden shift in energy dragged his attention away. He looked up—just in time to see Lucy cutting across the ballroom with purpose.
Everything else faded.
The music, the chatter, the soft clink of glassware.
All he could see was her. Dark dress flowing, hair catching the light, that unmistakable fire burning in her eyes.
She was here.
His grip on the bourbon glass tightened. “Lucy?”
Claire paused mid-sentence. “What?”
But he didn’t answer. He was already making a beeline.
Back at the table, Lucy reached Angela. “Really?” Lucy snapped, no preamble. “This was your plan?”
Angela blinked. “Hi to you too.”
“Don’t play coy. You orchestrated this—me, Tim, the table. All of it.”
Angela tried for innocent. It didn’t stick. “I had help.”
Lucy turned her glare toward Celina and Aaron, who were hovering in the background looking thoroughly chastised.
Genny held up her hands. “For the record, I didn’t know anything about this.”
Angela sighed, setting her wine glass down. “You weren’t going to talk to him on your own. Someone had to do something.”
“I did talk to him,” Lucy snapped. “At lunch. At North Hollywood. It may not have been what he wanted to hear, but it was where I was at. I needed space—not to be ambushed by my friends.”
Tim arrived just in time to catch that last line. “Wait, you didn’t know I’d be here?”
Lucy turned to face him and the look on her face nearly knocked the wind out of him.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Lucy’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“No. I didn’t.” Her eyes didn’t waver from his, sharp with hurt and accusation. “But you knew I’d be here, didn’t you?”
Tim’s brows pulled together. “What? No—Lucy, I didn’t—”
“You brought your girlfriend,” she snapped, gesturing toward the bar, where Claire had just started making her way over. “You stood there with her, smiling, laughing—waiting for me to walk in. Like you wanted me to see it.”
Tim’s head shook slowly. “That’s not—”
“Did you want to hurt me?” she asked, and the words hit harder than she probably meant them to. “Well, congratulations. It worked.”
And that was when Claire appeared, wine glass still in hand, catching only the tail end of the confrontation as she stepped up beside Tim.
“Lucy—” Tim started, trying to reach her, trying to explain—
But Lucy was already backing away, hands clenched at her sides, chest rising and falling with shallow, furious breaths.
She looked at Claire. Then back at Tim. “Hope the two of you have a great night.” Then she turned and walked off—fast and deliberate, heels echoing against the ballroom floor as the crowd parted in her wake.
Tim stood frozen, his stomach in freefall.
Claire glanced between them, tension thick in the silence. “Wow,” she said with a soft laugh. “Guess I picked the wrong moment to come over.” She looked to Tim. “Who was that?”
“My ex,” he said softly.
Claire stilled. “Oh,” she murmured, the word landing with quiet understanding.
Tim just watched the doors, guilt and confusion flooding his system all at once. She thought he’d planned this. That he’d tried to hurt her.
And maybe what hurt him most… was how believable that felt to her.
Claire quietly stepped back from the group, sensing the tension crackling like static in the air.
Angela broke the silence with a low whistle and a sip of wine. “Well,” she muttered, “Patrice is gonna kill me. The only drama she wanted tonight was from the silent auction.”
Wesley shot her a look. “Not helping.”
Angela shrugged.
Tim finally turned, his voice low, tight. “Really?”
Angela’s brow lifted. “What?”
He took a slow step toward the table, voice quiet but pointed. “I thought you were in my corner.”
“I am,” Angela said, straightening. “That’s why—”
“That’s what you call this?” he cut in, bitter. “Ambushing Lucy so she could walk in and see me with Claire?” He gestured vaguely toward the space Claire had just vacated. “We’re not even together,” Tim added. “Claire and I—there’s nothing there. You knew that.”
“I also knew you weren’t going to reach out again,” Angela said calmly. “And Lucy? She was never going to make the first move. You were both stuck. I was just trying to help. We were just trying to help.”
He looked around now—at Wesley, Celina, and Aaron. “Here’s what none of you seem to get. I didn’t know any of this. Not that Lucy would be here. Not that Claire would be. Hell, Claire didn’t even know I was coming.”
Angela opened her mouth, but Tim cut her off.
“And now Lucy thinks I planned it. That I brought a date just to mess with her. So yeah, thanks for the help.”
Celina winced. Aaron looked down at his drink. Wesley just folded his arms, jaw tight.
Angela remained stoic.
Tim shook his head, backing away from the table. “Don’t do us any more favors, okay?”
And with that, he turned and headed toward the exit, following the same path Lucy had taken just minutes earlier.
~
Lucy didn’t stop walking until the ballroom was nothing but a dull throb behind her. The music, the laughter, the clinking glasses—it all faded as she moved down the long, carpeted hallway.
Her vision was blurred at the edges, chest tight, breath coming faster than she could control.
She pushed through the nearest exit, her hand fumbling with the latch before finally shoving the glass door open.
Cool night air rushed over her.
She stumbled into the small courtyard—secluded, quiet, strung with soft lights twinkling between potted trees and wrought-iron benches. A fountain trickled gently in the center, but even that sound felt far away.
Lucy stopped just past the threshold and wrapped her arms around herself.
She couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t want to cry, but the tears were already slipping free, silent and hot, trailing down her cheeks as she stood there in the dark.
What just happened?
The thought hit like a wave, irrational and agonizing in equal measure.
She knew it didn’t make sense. Knew it. The Tim she loved—the Tim she thought she knew—would never have set her up like that…right? And yet.
He’d been standing there. Looking good. Laughing. Smiling. With her.
Like Lucy hadn’t meant anything. Like the past few months—the texts, the hoodie, the kiss—were just scraps he’d already swept aside.
She sat down on the edge of the fountain, shoulders hunched, arms clutching tight around her waist like she could keep herself from splintering.
Footsteps echoed softly behind her—measured, careful.
She didn’t turn. She already knew.
“Lucy,” Tim said, voice low, almost broken. “Please let me explain.”
She closed her eyes.
“Please.”
Tim came to a slow stop a few feet away, hands at his sides, chest visibly rising and falling like it took effort to keep himself steady.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Lucy didn’t respond. Not yet.
“I didn’t know you’d be here. I swear to you, I didn’t.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I didn’t even know Claire was coming. I didn’t plan any of that. I would never—” He swallowed hard, voice shaking. “God, Lucy, I would never try to hurt you like that.”
Her breath hitched. She didn’t look at him, but her grip on her arms tightened.
“I thought you were over it,” she whispered, the words barely audible. “Over me.”
“I’m not,” he said immediately. “I don’t think I ever will be.” Tim took another step closer, slow and cautious, like getting too close might shatter what little remained between them.
“You asked for space, and I was trying to respect that,” he said. “Even when it killed me. Even when I wanted nothing more than to call you, to see you. Even if it was only as a friend.” He paused, eyes searching hers. “But you never reached out. So I figured... maybe you didn’t want me to.”
She finally looked at him.
His eyes were wet. “I didn’t plan tonight. But seeing you—watching you walk away like that—God, Lucy, it gutted me.” A tear slipped down his cheek. He didn’t wipe it away. “I’m so in love with you,” he said quietly. “That hasn’t changed. Ever. It won’t.”
Lucy blinked, more tears spilling as she tried to process the ache in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes.
He stepped even closer, just a breath away now. “I know I hurt you when I ended things. And I know trust doesn’t just come back overnight. I’ll wait—as long as it takes.” His eyes searched hers. “I just need to know there’s still a part of you that wants me too… even if it’s not yet.”
Her lips parted, a shaky breath leaving her. “I didn’t want to feel like this,” she whispered. “Not tonight. Not again.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” Tim gently reached for her hands, pausing just before touching them—waiting for her to let him in.
She didn’t pull away. Their fingers met, soft and trembling.
She stared down at their fingers, linked loosely between them, her throat tight and aching.
“I didn’t want to just be friends with you because I didn’t want you,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying in the quiet courtyard. “God, Tim. I want you. That was never the problem.”
Tim’s breath caught, but he didn’t speak. Just held her hands a little tighter, telling her silently she could keep going.
She blinked hard, fighting another wave of tears. “You really hurt me. That night. When you said you were walking away.”
“I know,” he said gently.
“I gave you so much of me,” she said, her voice unsteady. “More trust than I’d ever given anyone. And then, just like that… you were gone.” She shook her head slightly, blinking back emotion. “For three years, I didn’t even get a real explanation.”
Tim looked down, guilt etched into every line of his face.
“I wasn’t trying to punish you by pulling back,” she said. “I thought if I could just... slow things down, get some space, maybe we could find our way back without all the heat and tension clouding it. Without rushing into something that might break me again.”
Tim inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Lucy…”
“I thought if I gave you space, you'd have the chance to prove you’d show up anyway. That I mattered enough for you to fight through the silence.” She let out a shaky breath. “And then you disappeared.”
Tim’s eyes widened. “I didn’t disappear.”
“You stopped texting. You stopped checking in. It felt like you just... vanished.”
“I was trying to respect what you asked for,” he said quickly, his voice raw. “You told me to dial it back. You wanted space. I was scared if I reached out, you’d see it as me pushing. I didn’t want to screw it up even more.”
Lucy’s lips trembled. “So you were waiting.”
He nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I was waiting for you.”
She let out a sad, breathless laugh. “I was waiting for you.”
Tim blinked, then huffed a dry, stunned laugh of his own. “God, we’re idiots.”
“Absolute idiots,” she agreed, wiping at her cheeks.
Tim leaned in just a little—forehead brushing against hers, soft and tentative.
Lucy didn’t pull away.
Their heads rested together, breath mingling in the stillness of the courtyard, the space between them charged but calm. Not fire. Not chaos. Just closeness.
Lucy sat back and wiped at her eyes, trying to steady her breath. “I can’t go back to my apartment,” she whispered. “Not tonight.”
Tim nodded gently. “Yeah. That’s fair. I know Celina probably meant well, but… tonight got way out of hand.” He hesitated, then added softly, “You could stay at my place. If you want.”
Lucy arched an eyebrow, giving him a long, knowing look. “Really?” she said. “After I just told you I was trying to avoid the heat between us to get clarity?” She laughed softly.
Tim smiled, holding up both hands. “Not like that. I meant the guest room. I’ll even fluff the pillow myself.”
Lucy tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Tempting.”
“There’s a catch, though,” Tim said, leaning back slightly, voice low.
“Oh?”
“You’re legally required to return the hoodie. I think our joint custody agreement expired last week.”