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Tim sits in his truck for a long moment, staring at the gleaming lights of the supermarket, taking a deep breath.
His new therapist would really be right up Lucy’s alley, that he’s sure of.
Too bad he’s on extra thin ice with Lucy right now, or she’d have a field day with this.
In all honesty, he needed a therapist even before the whole Ray debacle and the snowball effect that created, but he has always felt too proud to ask for help so directly. The vulnerability of talking about his shitty childhood and his failed marriage has always hit a bit too close to home for his closed-off self.
Now, he wonders if he was right all along in refusing, because this request feels odd at best. But Dr. Marek told him multiple times about trying it out, so maybe it’s about time he takes the plunge and does his therapy homework.
The supermarket still looms in front of him, but he’s making peace with the idea the more he sits and contemplates what is going to happen next.
He should have thought of a plan of action, a strategy, approaching this as a Sergeant and not as Tim, but unlike Lucy, who would have researched the best ingredients, maybe even bought a whole new mixer for the cleansing power of it, he’s totally winging it. He only has an incredibly basic recipe from Dr. Marek’s wife, a list of ingredients, and the doc’s blind confidence that this will help dull his pent-up anger and bring him much-needed peace of mind.
‘Kneading and heavy manipulation will release the frustration and the anger when they arise, especially when you don’t have access to a gym.’
That’s what Dr. Marek mentioned the first time Tim asked for things he could do not to become his dad, especially if he ever has kids of his own. That ship has now sailed, together with Lucy, but he still holds onto the hope that one day they’ll get those grandkids they joked about on their first real date.
After his statement, Tim was sure Dr. Marek would sign him up for some kind of arts-and-crafts class that he would promptly hate. Baking bread had not crossed his mind at all.
He has to give it to his therapist, the idea of slapping dough instead of his future kids or his rookie kinda makes sense. Dr. Marek’s wife also suggested making cookies because they’re finicky and require focus, so he’s going to try both. While he loves bread, he knows Lucy has a sweet tooth, and he can bribe Jack and Emmy to get the title of best uncle, too.
Tim knows his way around a kitchen, out of necessity as a single man at first, but he quite enjoys cooking now, especially if he has someone to cook for. These days, Kojo is the only one who really appreciates his Michelin-star salmon roasting techniques, but he hopes he can cook for Lucy again soon enough.
Lucy has high standards because she’s a terrific cook herself, even if her recipes are always on the quirky side, so he wants to impress her by the time this unconventional kind of therapy makes him a decent enough person that he can talk to her without his stomach twisting in knots and his throat closing up with guilt.
“It’s just baking bread,” he tells himself, a little Lucy-like prep-talk as his eyes scan the list in his hand.
He opens the door of his truck and crosses the parking lot until the sliding doors of the supermarket part for him. The aisles are familiar, part of his weekly routine, but this time he’s going to explore the flour section a lot more thoroughly than he usually does.
His cart fills with vegetables, meats, cheese, and milk – even the plant-based kind Lucy usually drinks. He opts for the shelf-stable version, though. He stops for a long time comparing prices and quality for baking flour, whole-wheat flour, and all-purpose flour. He’s sure Lucy would tell him to get a packet of 00 flour and semolina, too, in case he decides to make handmade pasta.
He adds two types of yeast and baking soda to his cart and an extra baking sheet, just because he’s not sure he has a decent one if he wants to bake cookies. He throws in an extra cake tin and a loaf pan, just because.
He ignores the total allotted for baking supplies at checkout, hoping he hasn’t just wasted a lot of dough – pun intended – on stuff he’ll never use again.
By the time he’s standing by his kitchen counter, hands washed and ingredients ready on the marble, the printed recipe from Linda Marek neatly spread on the topmost corner, his uncertainty creeps back in.
He wonders if he was too forward in asking Nevin for a sample of his sourdough starter and instructions on how to feed it, or if he has invested way too much money in this for all of it to fail spectacularly.
The idea that nothing will ever make him worthy of Lucy and her beautiful spirit comes back with a vengeance, paralyzing him for a few seconds. He reminds himself that he’s doing this not just for Lucy, for their future, but also for himself.
He only centers himself when he tries one of the deep breathing techniques Lucy had taught him while she was convincing him to try meditation. His whole body settles, his heartbeat slows down, and he misses her fiercely for a couple of seconds.
Missing her is a constant ebb and flow, and he’s slowly learning how to stay afloat every day.
“Okay, here we go,” he whispers to himself and to a curious Kojo, who is now staring at him from his position in front of the fridge, head tilted and ears perked up.
The sourdough recipe is straightforward and clear. There aren’t many steps, but it requires patience and time. Time for him to knead it to the right consistency, for the yeast to do its job, so the dough can rise. Time for the bread to cook and create a crunchy crust. Time for the loaves to cool before he can cut the first slice.
It’s dark by the time he takes his sharp bread knife and cuts into the first of the two loaves. The crust pops and crunches, giving way to a soft center, still lukewarm, the smell of yeast and flour filling his senses, calming him.
Tim takes a moment and closes his eyes, imagining Lucy on the other side of the counter, her smile infectious, her hair in a messy top-knot, her grabby hands reaching for the slice he’s still cutting for her.
Among the enticing smells of fresh bread, he misses Lucy more fiercely than he has missed her in the past week.
He takes a deep breath, grabs the end of the bread, knobbly and uneven and so-not perfect, tearing a piece with his fingers and bringing it to his mouth.
Heaven.
Nothing had ever tasted better than this.
Well, maybe Lucy, but that’s something he shouldn’t think about. Not ever again.
The texture is spongy but not gummy, the crust solid, crunchy, perfectly flavorful. It is a tad too salty, but for it being his first time ever baking bread, Tim is elated. He has witnessed more than one internet disaster in his quest for baking bread perfection, horrors of unevenly baked crusts and raw centers, and he’s more than grateful that he even produced something that is edible.
He decides to bring an entire loaf to Dr. Marek the next day as proof and as a thank you for the recipe.
Next will be Nevin, when he can actually figure out what to do with sourdough starter.
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It takes Tim a couple of weeks to master the sourdough recipe.
He bakes a loaf every other day to properly feed the yeast, getting to the point that he always makes himself a sandwich for lunch, and he starts bringing one for Penn as an emergency snack, too.
Tim is certain his rookie thinks he’s slowly poisoning him, but he keeps the mystery intact and still smirks when Penn tells him once that it tastes “as good as his mamaw’s cooking.”
Their days on patrol are crazy yet ordinary, but as soon as he gets home, Tim is washing his hands and taking out the flour.
Kojo is equally excited to get a few oddly-shaped slices once in a while as a treat, and he scarfs them down. Even though Tim knows it’s not the best choice to feed his puppy, Kojo has mastered the guilty look that keeps reminding him that his favorite human hasn’t visited this house in almost a month, and Kojo misses Lucy as much as Tim misses her.
Kojo loves being in the kitchen and watching the bread-making process from his dog bed, his nose always twitching in expectation whenever Tim brings out the yeast, and Tim is grateful for the company.
On Wednesday of the second week, he knows the recipe won’t get any better than this, and while he heats up a canned soup to counterbalance the amazingness of his bread when toasted, he’s debating if he should expand his horizons.
The moment Tim slaps the oven shut after making his latest sourdough loaf, he turns to Kojo, the dog’s ears immediately going up.
“You tired of sourdough, buddy?”
Kojo woofs as if to agree, his stubby tail making a slow wag.
“Should we try making something else?”
Another affirmative woof, or what sounds like agreement.
“What would be a good choice?”
Kojo trots to his bin of toys, digging in there with his muzzle until he takes out a hot dog squeaky toy that Lucy brought over two years ago on the Fourth of July, one that magically survived Kojo’s gnashing energy, and then a pizza slice chew toy she bought randomly when she came over for one of their last date nights.
Tim wonders if Kojo can also suggest recipes, since the dog has some great ideas.
As the bread bakes, he resorts to the internet for inspiration. Hot dogs, while easy, are definitely something he wants to make if he ever has people over, but pizza is something he can enjoy all alone, at any time of day, so it takes the top position.
As he prints out both recipes, he keeps wondering when inviting people over has ever been a good idea in his book – probably since Lucy would definitely be the perfect host for all of their dinner parties.
Tim arbitrarily decides that he’ll try pizza instead, and he’s glad he’s got all the baking ingredients he needs so that he can start it right away.
Pizza seems to require even more kneading and focus than the sourdough, and it becomes especially helpful since Penn keeps driving him up the wall. He forgot how annoying having a rookie could be; he had been spoiled with Lucy by his side for twelve hours a day.
Pizza also requires a lot more patience and rising time compared to bread, some recipes recommending up to 48 hours, so Tim opts for a middle ground.
One morning, after waking up from a nightmare he doesn’t remember but that stayed in his bones, he kneads the dough before work and lets it rest for the twelve hours of his shift.
The results don’t disappoint. In fact, he scarfs down an entire sheet pan of pizza by himself, and even Kojo is licking his chops after tasting an end corner.
What gives him proof that he’s not just delusional and his baked goods are actually tasty is Angela.
She comes over to review the details of a case, and she immediately digs into his fridge for a beer the moment she steps inside, while he opens up their laptops in the living room and sets down the takeout containers.
“Timothy, why did we get Chinese if you have leftover pizza in your fridge?”
Tim groans, but before he can tell Angela not to get any, she has already snatched the glass container and stuck it in his microwave, pressing the crispy pizza settings.
Clearly, Lopez needs more boundaries, because she’s way too familiar with his kitchen for someone who doesn’t live here.
“There’s not enough pizza for the both of us. You can have it all,” he says, resigned, grabbing a plate for the table and her pizza.
Angela promptly ignores any silverware, let alone any plates he gives her, taking out the piping hot slice straight from the container. She sits down at his dining table, her eyes closing as she savors the first morsel.
“Holy shit, where did you get this pizza?” Angela’s eyes widen.
His cheeks are almost as hot as the pizza as Angela closes her eyes in delight at the second bite.
“Bradford, did you steal this pizza? Is it a date night leftover pizza?” she teases, clocking in his expression and wagging her eyebrows.
“No!” He’s quick to correct Angela before she can run with a bunch more outlandish theories about the origins of this slice. “I made it,” he murmurs, bracing for the teasing.
“Like…frozen made it?”
Tim shakes his head as Angela’s eyes widen more and more.
“Like I got flour and water and yeast and let it rise,” he confesses, unable to meet her eyes as he fidgets with the edge of his laptop.
“Holy shit! Did you invite Lucy over and this was your way to get into her pants? Because if I didn’t have a husband that I love beyond words, I’d totally be showing you my boobs right about now.”
Tim laughs, shaking his head as Angela breaks the tension.
“No, I’ve only made pizza a couple of times. I’ve been trying different amounts of rest time and testing different flours, but I’m particularly happy with how this batch turned out.”
“As you should. Since when are you a pizza expert?”
“Since my therapist suggested kneading to work through my issues?” He tries to keep a light, teasing tone, mirroring the one Angela has had since the beginning of this conversation, but his voice cracks at the very end, exposing his vulnerabilities.
Angela understands the weight of the conversation and shifts her tone, too. “Really?”
Tim nods, unable to meet her eyes.
“So therapy is going well?” she asks in a soft, kind voice, a hint of curiosity, but also complete openness not to answer if he wants to.
“Some days it’s hard, but I need to do this.”
“To get Lucy back?”
Tim shakes his head. “For me. To be mentally healthier and more grounded. Getting Lucy back can only come from that. If she ever wants me back, that is.”
Angela nods in understanding, and Tim takes a deep breath, shaking off some of the embarrassment and the vague unease at confessing something so big to his best friend.
“You should definitely use pizza to woo Lucy, though. This is truly amazing.”
Tim bursts into laughter, and Angela joins him right away. They chat a bit more about his baking abilities, and she suggests a couple of different types of bread he could try next, even going as far as trying to ask Emilia for the recipe for her super-secret Lopez tortillas.
“You need to ask my mom yourself, though. She likes you way more than she likes Bruno since he moved to New York,” she laughs, and Tim joins her.
“I’ll try.”
“Invite me over to taste test!”
“Maybe.”
They crank down on cross-referencing Bitcoin transactions, the real reason why she’s in Tim’s house in the first place, though their brains melt quickly as they read line after line of numbers and money amounts.
“Okay, I need a break. Want another drink?” Tim says, getting up from the couch.
“More pizza?”
Tim chuckles, but offers her a slice of bread and cheese instead since he doesn’t have any more pizza, making her eyes roll in the back of her head.
“That’s it. Retire right now and join forces with Nevin. You have talent, Bradford.”
“Okay, can you stop teasing me about this? Let’s just hang out like the guys.”
“I hate to break it to ya, but I’m not one of the guys. You’re one of the girls, and girls want gossip. And baked goods.”
Tim groans affectionately, shaking his head, taking a sip of his drink.
“Spill it. What’s going on between you and Lucy?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” he admits, shrugging. “She’s taking the Sergeants’ exam.”
“So you two can get back together?” Angela asks suggestively, to which Tim shakes his head.
“No, it’s a good move for her career. But yeah, it’s come up,” he adds, unable to hide the tiny smile forming on his lips.
Angela grins back, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Can I offer you a little piece of advice?”
“Can I stop you?”
“No, not a chance in hell,” she smirks, smug. “That girl is the best thing that ever happened to you, and if you somehow manage to win her back after everything you’ve put her through… Well, you’d better say a prayer of gratitude every night before bed. And shower her in pizza and bread.”
Tim chuckles, leaning over to nod and sigh.
“Understood.”
Angela doesn’t leave until she could bring an entire sourdough loaf home to Wesley and the kids, and Tim knows this won’t be the last time he’ll have to bake bread for the Lopez-Evers abode.
He truly doesn’t mind.