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On the way to Tim’s house, they made a quick stop at Lucy’s apartment. Before arriving, Lucy had checked Find My Friends, praying that Celina hadn’t left the fundraiser yet.
The app confirmed it. Celina was still at the hotel.
Good.
Lucy kept it brief, just enough time to toss a few essentials into a bag, grab her charger, and grab Tim’s hoodie.
Once they made it to Tim’s house, he unlocked the front door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let Lucy in first.
The familiar scent of cedar and Kojo hit her immediately, grounding and oddly comforting after the emotional landmine of the night. She stepped inside without a word, setting her overnight bag down just inside the door.
Tim followed, closing the door behind them.
It was quiet—just the distant hum of the refrigerator and the soft jingle of Kojo’s collar as he strutted into the hallway, tail wagging sleepily at the sight of them.
“Hey, buddy,” Lucy said softly, crouching to scratch behind his ears.
Kojo licked her face affectionately, then trotted off, satisfied.
Tim watched her for a beat, then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Three messages from Angela. He didn’t open them.
Another buzz—this time from Genny.
Genny Bradford
You okay?
He stared at it for a second, then typed back quickly.
Tim Bradford
Yeah, I left. Had to get out of there.
He hit send. And then paused.
Wait. He’d driven her. His eyes widened.
Tim Bradford
Crap. Want me to come back and grab you?
The response came fast.
Genny Bradford
LOL it’s all good. Celina feels terrible about everything and is practically insisting she take me home.
A second later, another ping.
Genny Bradford
Might make her carry my shoes just to really drive the guilt in.
Tim huffed a quiet, tired laugh, shaking his head. “Of course she’s fine.”
Lucy looked up at him, a trace of curiosity in her eyes.
“Genny,” he clarified with a small smile. “Just checking in.”
Lucy tipped her head in acknowledgement.
Tim slipped his phone into his pocket and nodded toward the hallway. “You remember where everything is?”
“Yeah.” Lucy grabbed her bag and started toward the guest room, then stopped. She turned back to face him. “Tim?”
He looked over to her, eyes finding hers.
She hesitated for a second, then said quietly, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do all of this.”
He gave her a faint smile. “Of course I did,” he said gently. “I meant what I said—I love you. I’m here. I won’t push…but I’m not going anywhere.”
There was a quiet shift behind her eyes—uncertain but sincere, like trust beginning to take root. She gave him a small smile and slipped down the hallway.
Tim looked toward Kojo and asked, “You wanna go out?”
The way Kojo wagged and ran toward the sliding door gave him his answer. Tim followed and slid the glass open. Kojo wandered off into the yard, nose to the grass.
Tim leaned against the doorframe and looked up at the night sky. He closed his eyes and drew in a steady breath, trying to quiet the quiet surge of hope building in his chest. He couldn’t read too much into tonight. Couldn’t let himself get ahead of things. But still... it felt like progress.
Kojo trotted back to the door, tail wagging, mission complete. Tim let him in and locked up behind them, ruffling the dog’s ears before heading to the kitchen.
Tim moved through the kitchen with quiet purpose, filling the kettle, pulling down mugs. The soft rush of boiling water helped ground him. He reached for the box of sleepytime tea he’d bought for her weeks ago—something safe, steady—and dropped the bags into the mugs.
He wasn’t sure if she’d want tea. But it felt like a nice gesture. Something warm. Comforting. And it kept his hands busy.
Meanwhile, Lucy stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She turned on the tap and splashed cool water over her face, hoping it would rinse away more than just the remnants of her makeup. The heat in her cheeks, the dull throb behind her eyes, the weight of the night.
She braced her hands on the sink and met her reflection.
For a long moment, she didn’t move.
Then she flipped off the light and crept quietly back to the guest room.
She unzipped her overnight bag. The silky fabric of her dress slipped off her shoulders and onto the floor. She reached for her pajamas—then hesitated.
There it was.
Folded neatly at the top of her bag.
Tim’s hoodie.
The one that still smelled like him. The one she’d stubbornly refused to give back, half out of spite, half because she couldn’t quite let it go.
She stared at it for a beat, then tugged it on, pulling the sleeves down over her hands. It swallowed her, soft and warm, and entirely too familiar.
She sat on the edge of the bed in just the hoodie, breathing in the cotton and cedar. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, screen lighting up with a name she didn’t want to see.
Lucy stared at it for a moment before giving in.
Celina Juarez
I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now.
And that’s fine. I deserve it.
Just… let me know you’re safe? Please.
Lucy sighed, heart twisting.
She didn’t have the energy to unpack everything she was feeling—not the betrayal, not the guilt for yelling, not the exhaustion weighing on her chest.
But she could give Celina this much.
Lucy Chen
I’m safe. But don’t wait up.
She turned on do not disturb, locked the screen, and set the phone down. She then pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in Tim’s hoodie.
That’s when the knock came. Three gentle taps.
“Hey,” Tim said through the door. “Can I come in?”
Lucy stood quickly, tugging the hem of the hoodie down. “Uh…yes. One sec.” She made her way over and opened the door.
Tim stood still, a steaming mug in each hand. His eyes met hers, then dropped, catching on the sight of her in nothing but his hoodie.
He stilled, breath hitching as his gaze traced the line of her bare legs and the way the fabric swamped her frame. Almost involuntarily, his eyes flicked to her lips, lingering for just a beat too long. He blinked and forced his eyes back to hers, jaw tightening slightly as he reined himself in. “Tea,” he said, voice hoarse.
Lucy accepted the mug with a quiet smile. “Thanks.”
Tim cleared his throat. “Figured it might help. With sleep, I mean.”
She nodded. “It’s perfect.”
A pause.
Neither moved.
“I should…” he gestured vaguely behind him. “Let you rest.”
“Yeah. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He lingered for half a second too long. Then turned and walked out, closing the door gently behind him.
Back in his bedroom, Tim set his mug on the nightstand and tugged off his tux jacket with a sigh. The bowtie followed, then the shirt—each piece discarded with the heaviness of the night. He grabbed a pair of sweats from the dresser and slipped them on. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed, his hands braced on his knees, shoulders tense like he was holding back a tidal wave.
Lucy needed space. Safety. No pressure. No assumptions.
He’d told himself a dozen times already, and now he was repeating it like a lifeline.
His body felt exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t slow down. Not with her in the next room. Not with how beautiful she’d looked in that damn hoodie. Not after everything they’d said and everything they hadn’t.
Tim stood and paced once, then again, dragging a hand through his hair. His tea sat cooling untouched on the nightstand.
He tried to think about Kojo’s vet appointment next week. About the paperwork he’d forgotten to file. About the goddamn silent auction and the stupid goat yoga. Anything that wasn’t the feel of her fingers brushing his as she took the mug. Anything that wasn’t her.
The soft knock at the door made him jump.
He blinked, exhaled, then called out—carefully neutral, a little too controlled. “Yeah. Come in.”
The door eased open. Lucy stood there, still in the hoodie, mug clutched in one hand. “Hey—” She stopped, quickly distracted. Tim had changed into a pair of gray sweats that sat low on his hips, his chest bare. Her words caught somewhere between her throat and her brain. Her eyes lingered for another second before she remembered why she came in.
Tim moved to her, concerned. “Everything okay?”
She nodded but didn’t move. Then she looked down, then back up, and crossed the threshold a little more. “I know this is... probably a bad idea,” she said slowly, choosing every word with care, “but I can’t sleep.”
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t breathe.
She glanced away, like the floor was safer than his face. “Would it be okay if I—” a pause, a breath, “if I slept in here with you?” Her eyes lifted again, uncertain. Vulnerable.
Tim’s heart kicked hard in his chest. She wasn’t asking for more. Wasn’t seducing him. She looked… tired. Guarded. Brave in a way that made his throat ache.
“You don’t have to say yes,” she added quickly. “I just—I feel safe with you right now. And I think that could help.”
He stepped forward without thinking, nodding his head. “Yeah,” he said gently. “Of course. Whatever you need, Lucy.”
She gave a soft smile. She crossed the room, climbed into his bed like it was something she’d done a thousand times.
Tim got in beside her, careful with the space between them.
The lamp cast a low, golden glow. Kojo padded into the room, circled once, and settled at the foot of the bed like a silent chaperone.
Lucy exhaled into the pillow. “Thank you.”
Tim turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “Anytime.” He reached over and clicked off the lamp. Darkness fell.
A few quiet breaths passed.
Then, softly—tentative, “Can I...?” Her hand reached across the narrow stretch of space between them, fingers brushing his.
Tim didn’t hesitate. He laced their fingers together.
She let out a breath that sounded like peace.
Another beat of silence.
Tim shifted, rolling gently onto his side to face her. Lucy was still on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
After a few moments, she turned her head toward him. “I missed this,” she whispered.
“Me too,” he murmured. His voice was low, thick with honesty.
Lucy slowly rolled to face him, close enough now that she could see the soft outline of his face. Her fingers grazed along the back of his hand.
Tim’s free hand moved before he could think better of it, brushing a lock of hair back from her cheek. He lingered there, the soft weight of her trust settling in his chest.
She looked so small in his hoodie, sleeves pulled over her hands, the fabric slouching just right on her frame. The sight hit him harder than he expected—nostalgic and hopeful all at once.
He smiled softly, trying to steady the feeling rising in his throat.
“I hate to break it to you,” he said, voice quiet but teasing, “but wearing the hoodie in my house doesn’t technically count as returning it.”
“Oh?” Lucy arched a brow, her tone playful. “Would you prefer I take it off?”
Tim’s brain short-circuited. “I—uh—”
Lucy grinned and shifted a little closer. “Relax. I meant I have actual pajamas in my bag.”
Tim exhaled hard. “Right. Of course.” He tried to keep his eyes on hers, but they moved down her body. “Well... I think this looks better.” The second the words left his mouth, he winced. “Sorry. That was—”
“Okay,” she cut in, her voice warm. “It was okay to say.”
He chuckled quietly, shifting until his forehead rested lightly against hers. The contact was barely there, but it grounded him. Their breaths mingled in the dark.
“Tell me something,” she whispered.
“Anything.”
“What did you think when you saw me at the gala?”
He hesitated for half a second, then let the truth slip out. “That I’d never forgive Angela for blindsiding you… but also, I think I forgot how to breathe.”
Her fingers tightened around his. “Yeah?”
“You looked incredible.”
Lucy didn’t answer right away. She pressed her forehead a little closer to his, their noses brushing. “So… you liked the dress?”
“I like everything about you,” he said, no hesitation, no teasing. Just truth.
A small, real smile pulled at her lips. “I wish we hadn’t lost so much time,” she whispered.
“Me too. But we’re here now.”
She let that sit between them, fingers tracing slow, absent-minded shapes along his wrist—soothing, familiar, intimate.
Their hands remained tangled as the silence deepened. Eventually, the weight of the day gave way to rest, and a rare kind of peace settled over them both.
~
Tim stirred awake to the soft weight of blankets and the warmth of Lucy beside him. For a long moment, he just lay there, watching her breathe—her face calm, lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks. The hoodie had shifted in her sleep, exposing the delicate line of her neck and the slope of her collarbone.
His chest ached in the best way. She was here.
Kojo gave a soft whine. Tim winced and glanced toward the clock. Still early. He didn’t want the sound waking her.
Carefully, he slid out of bed, pausing only to brush a featherlight kiss against Lucy’s temple. She stirred but didn’t wake. He grabbed a shirt and slipped quietly out of the room.
Kojo practically bounced when he opened the sliding door to let him out into the yard. The morning air was cool, but the sky was brightening—clear and golden.
He made his way to the kitchen, barefoot on the tile, and started the coffee. The drip and gurgle of the machine were the only sounds in the house. He leaned against the counter, eyes still heavy, but a small smile playing at his lips.
Then he heard something outside.
His body tensed, instincts flaring. Quietly, he moved to the window by the front door and peeked through the curtain.
There, in his driveway, stood Angela. Emmy was perched on her hip, and Jack running in front of her, halfway to the front door.
Tim muttered under his breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He spun around, eyes darting to the hallway. The bedroom door remained shut. Quiet.
Good.
After everything that happened last night he didn’t want anything to shatter this quiet, sacred morning. Especially not Angela.
He cracked open the front door, just enough to step outside and pull it shut behind him just as Jack reached the steps.
“Uncle Tim!” Jack shouted, launching forward to hug Tim’s legs.
“Hey, kiddo.” Tim ruffled Jack’s hair, then looked up—his expression already edging into warning territory.
Angela was watching him closely.
“What are you doing here?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Nice to see you too. We were just in the neighborhood. Thought we’d drop by to see how you were doing. Unless…” she tilted her head, eyes narrowing, “you’re busy?”
Tim forced a neutral smile. “Not busy. But a text would’ve been nice.”
“I did text,” she said breezily, shifting Emmy to her other hip. “You just stopped reading my messages.”
He sighed. “Fair. Is that why you brought backup?”
Angela smirked. “Who could resist these faces?”
Jack beamed. Emmy drooled on Angela’s sweater.
“Celina said Lucy didn’t come home last night.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “That so?”
Angela cocked her head. “So you’re saying you didn’t see her after you stormed out of the ballroom?”
“I’m saying I had enough of the ambush and went home,” Tim replied, voice flat. “Alone.”
Angela studied him, lips pursed like she didn’t quite buy it, but couldn’t prove otherwise. “Right,” she said slowly. “Well, if you had seen her, I’d hope you’d at least say thank you. You know—for the setup that totally didn’t work. Maybe one of those edible arrangements.”
Tim deadpanned. “I’ll get right on that.”
Angela frowned slightly, catching the bite in his tone. “Look, I just wanted you two in the same room so you could work things out.”
“And instead, you blew up the whole thing.” Tim’s voice was flat. “Nice work.”
Angela shifted Emmy on her hip. “I was just trying to help.”
Tim didn’t respond. Just crossed his arms and stared her down.
Jack looked between them. “Are you mad, Uncle Tim?”
Tim softened only slightly for the kid’s sake. “No, buddy. Just tired.”
Angela gave him a long look. “Well, we’ll get out of your hair. Wouldn’t want to interrupt any… solo brooding time.”
Jack gave him another hug, and Emmy waved as Angela walked back to her car. Tim didn’t relax until they’d backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.
Only then did he exhale.
He turned back toward the house, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. Still quiet.
And still very much his little secret—for now.
~
Lucy blinked her eyes open slowly, the morning light slipping in around the edge of the curtains. She rolled slightly onto her side, reaching for the empty space beside her. Cold. Then she heard the door creak open.
Tim appeared in the doorway, shirt now on, hair still mussed from sleep, holding a steaming mug in one hand.
“Hey,” he said softly, like he wasn’t sure if she was fully awake yet.
Lucy propped herself up on one elbow, a sleepy smile curling on her lips. “Hey.”
“I thought you might want this,” he added, walking it over. “Coffee. Oat milk, too much sugar,” he said, a little proud he remembered.
Her fingers brushed his as she took it. “Thank you,” she murmured, voice still hazy with sleep.
Tim gave a small smile and sat on the edge of the bed, careful to keep a bit of distance. “How’d you sleep?”
She took a sip. “Better than I have in a while.”
Their eyes met again, and something soft settled between them.
Then Tim scratched the back of his neck. “Angela stopped by.”
Lucy blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Kids in tow. Said she was in the neighborhood.”
“Does she know I’m here?” Lucy asked, suddenly alert.
He shook his head, just a little too proud. “Nope. I didn’t tell her.”
A grin tugged at Lucy’s lips. “Really?”
Tim smirked. “I kind of want to make her pay for what she put us through.”
Lucy leaned back against the headboard, amusement gleaming in her eyes. “Oh, I’m in.”
They grinned at each other for a beat, a little mischief between the coffee and morning light.
~
A few quiet hours passed in the soft hum of domestic ease.
Tim had made them breakfast—simple scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. Lucy had insisted on helping, but he waved her off with a mock-stern glare and told her to “sit down and accept the hospitality.” She obeyed… but stole a piece of bacon while his back was turned.
They ate at his dining room table, sunlight pooling across the floor. Kojo curled at Lucy’s feet while she sipped coffee, still wrapped in Tim’s hoodie, now paired with a loose pair of shorts she’d pulled from her bag.
Later, while Tim cleaned up, Lucy wandered over to his bookshelf, scanning the titles and small knickknacks until her eyes caught on something.
“Is that a puzzle?” she asked, pulling down the box and assessing it. “You do puzzles now?”
Tim looked over from the sink, shrugging. “Sometimes. My therapist said they’re good for when I feel restless but can’t put words to it yet. Said putting something back together—piece by piece—can be grounding.”
She turned the box over in her hands again, nodding. “That makes a lot of sense.”
Tim shrugged. “Therapist earned his paycheck with that one.”
Lucy smiled softly. “You ever finish this one?”
Tim glanced at her, then back at the box. “No, didn’t have the right partner.”
Lucy smirked, warm all the way to her toes. “Well. Let’s fix that.”
They cleared space on the coffee table, flipping all the pieces face-up. For the next hour or so, they worked in comfortable silence, knees bumping under the table, fingers brushing occasionally when they reached for the same edge piece. Each little touch lingered just a bit too long to be purely accidental.
At one point, Lucy shifted a little closer on the couch. Not enough to call attention to it. But Tim noticed. He said nothing.
And when he leaned over to fit two pieces together, his arm grazed her thigh. She didn’t move away.
The air between them slowly began to shift. Something playful. Charged. Familiar.
Lucy tucked one leg beneath her and looked over at him, eyes glinting. “So… about that revenge plan,” she said casually, setting a puzzle piece down.
Tim looked up, brow raised.
“We’ve got Angela thinking nothing happened,” she went on, fitting another piece into place. “You didn’t tell her I was here. And I didn’t go home. We could really mess with her.”
Tim leaned back, arms crossing. “How?”
Lucy leaned back against the couch cushion, casually inspecting a puzzle piece between her fingers. “We play it cool. In public, we’re… cordial. Maybe even a little unfriendly.” She tossed a sly glance his way. “Definitely not acting like two people realizing they’ve been idiots this whole time.”
Tim hummed. “So, the opposite of what actually happened.”
“Exactly. We keep talking to our friends like there’s no chance—like we’re still sorting things out or barely speaking.”
He nodded slowly. “And when no one’s around?”
Lucy didn’t answer right away. She rotated a piece in her fingers, then finally said, “Then we act like ourselves.”
Tim tilted his head. “Ourselves?”
She looked up, meeting his gaze, eyes glinting. “Friendly. Maybe even a little bit… friendlier.”
He froze for a beat, reading between the lines. His voice dropped, a low rumble of caution and curiosity. “You were the one—less than twenty-four hours ago—who said we should avoid the physical stuff. Keep things clear. No heat. No confusion.”
Lucy didn’t look away. She leaned her elbow on the coffee table, chin resting on her hand, eyes steady on his. “Well… that was last night.”
Tim blinked.
She shrugged. “And I think we’ve made a lot of progress since then.”
A beat passed.
“Don’t you?” she added, tone light but knowing.
Tim’s throat worked as he swallowed, trying—and failing—not to smile. “And the reward for all that progress is…?”
She smirked. “Still up for debate. But I’m thinking something... mutually beneficial.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re unbelievable.”
Lucy leaned in just a touch. “You’re not exactly arguing.”
Tim held her gaze for a moment longer, his pulse picking up. Then he reached for another puzzle piece, trying to focus on anything other than how close she was. “We should finish this puzzle. Before we get distracted.”
Lucy huffed a soft laugh, nudging her knee against his. “You’re no fun.”