Work Text:
Tim didn't like losing. And anyone who had not yet understood that was either deaf, blind, or completely out of touch. Competition was in Timothy Bradford's blood. And it had always taken him far.
Sure, he had endured his fair share of humiliations, but he would never forget the Lakers tickets he had won from dear John Nolan, or the many times he had beaten Lopez and Bishop — before Harper's arrival — in their annual boot competition.
So, yes, competition was part of him, and he was convinced that if there were a dictionary where people represented each word, Tim would be competition.
Don't ask Lucy for confirmation.
Never.
If you ever asked her, Lucy would probably say her future husband's name belonged under the word control. Sergeant Bradford never really understood why Lucy saw him that way. He wasn't THAT obsessed with control. But that was how it was. Lucy saw him that way, and God knew how stubborn that brown-haired woman could be when it came to being right. And Tim had no desire to receive another Lucy Lesson from her.
Well, that was before they started organizing their future wedding. Because now that this circus of checklists, forms to fill out, and decisions to validate had begun, Tim immediately understood what his future wife had meant.
Especially since he was the one who had divided the tasks between them, in an obviously fair manner. And once again, Tim found a way to turn all this chaotic organization into a competition.
Never, in a single month, had Lucy faced so many contests from her fiancé. She had been through : “The first one to contact this caterer wins,” to, “The first one to find their wedding outfit wins.” Yes, you can say it,it didn't make any sense. Lucy had protested against the last competition because, according to her, “groom suits are generally all the same, while there are easily 20,000 different versions of wedding dresses.”
But she didn't fight it for long. She loved him, and seeing him so happy organizing this event — this day that would mark the official and definitive beginning of their life together — touched her deeply. To say otherwise would be a lie. She felt as though she had never had someone by her side who wanted so badly to prove that he loved her. And knowing that Tim was eager to be hers? Yes, that touched her.
But all this organizing opened Tim's blue eyes to his own personality.He was the one who had organized the to-do list. The one who had sorted through the pros and cons of each caterer they had looked into. The one who had made an entire list of possible cake types for their wedding — since they didn't know the number of servings needed yet, they might as well settle on the type of cake. And he was also the one who had organized the entire list of people to contact again so they would respond to their invitations.
There were then two possibilities available to him.
Option one: Lucy was right. He was absolutely ruthless when it came to control, and he let nothing slip past him.
Option two: this wasn’t his first marriage.
Maybe that was all it was. Maybe he simply didn’t want the preparations for this wedding to be as disastrous as they had been for his wedding to Isabel.
Because, to be completely honest, yes, the preparations for his first wedding had been horrible. A little like the wedding itself, to be honest.
He remembered that period when neither he nor Isabel had time to sleep, after their caterer bailed on them at the last minute. They had been forced to find a second caterer in record time.
He also remembered Isabel’s maid of honor showing up pregnant, apparently without having anticipated that she might gain enough weight to no longer fit into her dress. Which meant she no longer had a dress available. Or Brad, a family friend, who had shown up at the wedding with his new girlfriend without thinking it might be useful to inform the bride and groom that said girlfriend was allergic to peanuts — peanuts being among Isabel’s favorite ingredients, and therefore present in the cake.
So, yes, no one could really say the ceremony had been a success. And it was precisely because of all that that Tim knew what needed to be planned meticulously.
Setting aside two backup caterers, for example, in case their first choice canceled or something unexpected happened.
As for the maid of honor, unless Tamara suddenly decided to become a mother in the next few months, Tim didn’t have too many concerns. And if she did show up pregnant at their wedding, he was counting on two people:
1 — Lucy, to give Tamara a piece of her mind, since she believed Tamara was still too young to become a mother, despite the fact that she was now twenty-two.
2 — Celina, who could take her place as maid of honor, being the person closest to Lucy among her bridesmaids. After all, they had lived together. Literally.
But the possibility that he was simply a control freak was starting to gnaw at his mind more and more.
He had always paid attention to everything as soon as he was involved. During his studies, he had created a very precise revision schedule, detailing how much time he needed to spend on each subject. Every single one of them. When he had still been a boot, he remembered the number of hours he had given himself to memorize every possible and impossible infraction, word for word. He had gone over those pages so many times he probably could have told you how many commas were on any given one.
Was it strange to only notice it now? To have never really seen that behavior in himself until someone else forced him to? To have always thought Isabel and Lucy were exaggerating when they said he could never let go?
He had always assumed everyone was like him. Maybe not as organized, sure, but that everyone had at least one part of their life neatly controlled, and that it was up to each person to maintain it.
The first time he realized that assumption was definitely false was when he saw Tamara’s room at Lucy’s place. At that moment, he understood that control — or even basic organization — was not innate to everyone. It had been a shock for him. And for his eyes too. But now, as he looked at the countless sheets about possible flowers, florists, bouquet choices, caterers, chair types, and table arrangements, the truth was finally dawning on him.
Tim was definitely a control freak. And, in the end, he blamed himself a little. Why had he never believed Lucy every time she had told him? Had his denial been so deep that he had needed to reach his late forties before accepting it?
— Is everything okay? a rather soft voice asked close to his ear.
He quickly turned his head and found himself looking into the brown eyes of his fiancée.
It always surprised him how guarded he was at work, and how quickly that instinct faded here. As soon as he was home — and when he said home, he meant being beside the woman he couldn’t wait to call his wife, no matter the place — he stopped checking over his shoulder three or four times to make sure no one was pulling out a weapon or getting the bright idea to attack them.
The old Tim Bradford, THEW Tim Bradford who had known war, violence, and surprise attacks, would never have believed that possible. Maybe he should start doing it again before something actually happened to them.
No.
He should keep quiet. If he kept thinking about disaster, he was going to end up inviting it in. He had never believed in superstitions before, but apparently Angela had changed that.
Damn you, Lopez.
— Hey. Hi, you. How was this morning?
His tone changed immediately. If anyone from the station had seen him like that, Tim knew, without a doubt, that he would have lost all credibility. But he didn’t care.
The moment he saw his fiancée’s face light up with that soft smile only she could give him, the other officers could mock him all they wanted. He had this. He had her tenderness, every day and every night.
— It was great! But it was a little hard on Kojo. His friend, you know, the little Labradoodle I told you about last time? I think he’s sick. He’s been absent for a few days now... I hope it’s nothing serious, she said, worry slipping into her voice.
As if to support his mother’s words, Kojo let out a small, plaintive bark, releasing all his frustration and disappointment at once. In that moment, Tim was disappointed he wasn’t a veterinarian, so he could reassure Lucy and tell her that the little dog was fine.
— What are you doing? Lucy asked, burying her face in Tim’s neck, partly to get a better view of the table in front of him, and partly — probably — to lean against the man she loved.
As if he was desperate, even if in truth he was mostly playing with her, Tim plunged his hands into the files and pulled out an enormous stack of small sheets, each containing a different list.
— Well... I have to admit I’m stuck for now.I can’t do much, since YOUR guests still haven’t all confirmed their attendance. And without confirmation, there’s no exact number. And without an exact number...
— No meal, I knoooow, she said, cutting him off mid-complaint.
To be honest, he had been complaining for a few days about not having any final guest list regarding Lucy. He had the impression that as soon as he talked about the guests, Lucy did everything to delay the analysis of the number of people attending this event as much as possible. But they were approaching the fateful date and, sadly, they could no longer afford to wait any longer. If they wanted that famous chocolate-strawberry wedding cake that Lucy had loved so much, that double menu with one vegetarian side and the other meat-based, and finally those famous wines that the future bride had found so fruity, even if for Tim all those bottles tasted exactly the same, well, they had to order right now.
— I have to admit, I’m surprised your guests responded faster than mine, considering most of them are police officers. I remember that for Angela and Wesley's wedding, getting everyone to RSVP took forever. Angela wouldn't stop complaining at the office.
— It's normal. It was Angela's first marriage. But for me, it's my second.
— I always thought you and Angela were exaggerating when you said that cops took a second marriage more seriously than a first one. Now that I'm faced with this, I can only believe you. she said, rummaging through her bag in search of her list.
Then her search continued, over and over again. At first, Tim sincerely thought she was searching thoroughly. But after a while, when that little list was still not in his beloved's hands, Tim began to wonder.
— Did you lose it? He asked, rather surprised.
If he was a master of control, Lucy was an expert in the unexpected. He would always remember that infamous to-do list from their last patrol as TO and boot, which she had printed twice, anticipating that Tim would somehow get rid of it.
So, for her to lose a list as important as her own guests, he had to admit, surprised him a bit. He then saw Lucy finally move toward her coat, as if she doubted where she had put it. Or as if she wanted to take her time finding that sheet, even if it meant coming across as disorganized, or even a bit scatterbrained.
— Oh, uh, no no, it's fine, I found it. she said then, taking it out of her coat pocket and waving it triumphantly.
However, her face showed everything except victory. Maybe embarrassment? As if taking it out of that pocket bothered her in some way. Immediately, Lucy handed him the list as if it were burning her. If he didn't know that this thing in his hand was just a piece of paper, he could have believe it was burning iron. Tim picked it up but didn't open it right away. His gaze fell on his beloved.
These past few days, Lucy hadn't really been herself. She had kept that way of shining that belonged only to her. But something was dimmed, something was... different. He had chalked it up to stress. After all, even if they loved each other like the first day, or even more, organizing the wedding was a trial. As if organizing an event of this kind was a way to test the couple even before the wedding.
At first, they had sincerely hesitated to entrust the organization of their wedding to someone else. Someone else like Angela, for example. After all, Tim had helped her organize hers, so she owed him that, right ?
But Tim and Lucy wanted this event to be theirs. And what better way to make their wedding ceremony truly reflect them than by taking charge of its organization themselves? Put like that, it might have sounded absurd, but they didn’t regret the choice. Well, that's what Tim was thinking until now.
He had then attributed it to fatigue. She became sergeant recently and had her job responsibilities to manage in addition to their marriage. But he understood that it wasn't that. Because if she had been that tired, Lucy would never have put so much energy into participating in Tim's competitions.
All the competitions he had created around this organization had been a resounding success with Lucy. All of them, except the one concerning the guests. And he was sincerely starting to ask himself more questions. He knew he had promised to be more communicative. But at that moment, it had nothing to do with communication. He was afraid of learning that she regretted this commitment. And honestly, he preferred to remain in denial rather than learn that, indeed, she no longer wanted this marriage. After all, in a certain sense, the official confirmation of the guests and the final number were a way to close the preparations, and knowing that the more they advanced in the preparations, the more she was retreating, worried him a bit.
— Is everything okay? he tried anyway.
He didn’t feel the need to go deeper into the question. He thought it was self-explanatory. And if she answered no, then they could discuss it the way they usually did. If she answered yes, well... he would figure it out himself, like the grown adult he was, what could possibly be bothering the woman he would call his wife in just a few months.
— Yes, yes, everything is fine, thank you, she said.
She was lying. Clearly. When she had handed him the list, she had made that little gesture she always made when she felt uncomfortable: running a hand over the back of her neck, as if something were irritating her. He couldn’t miss it.
— I’m going grocery shopping. Do you need anything? Lucy asked, as if to avoid lingering on the conversation any longer.
— No, thanks. I have everything I need.
She nodded, placed a chaste kiss on her fiance's lips, and left the house after saying goodbye to him. It was the first time in a long time that Lucy had tried to hide something from him.
— And you? Do you know what’s wrong with your mom? the sergeant asked the dog, who was looking at him, sitting with his head slightly tilted, as if wondering what he could possibly be talking about.
— Now I’m starting to ask you a questions... he said, resigning himself to not getting an answer from Kojo, before rubbing the dog’s head tenderly but briskly, as if to reassure him and let him know he was still a good dog.
For a few minutes, Tim forgot about the list sitting on the kitchen table. Then he quickly picked it up and opened it. At first, he didn’t understand the problem. All of Lucy’s guests were marked with a small green arrow indicating their presence, while those who couldn’t attend had their apologies noted next to their names.
His eyes scanned the list and—
Oh.
Mom.
Dad.
Several things caught Tim’s eye.
First, Vanessa and Patrick were at the bottom of the list, which meant only one thing: Lucy had considered them as guests only after she had finished writing the rest of it.
Second, neither of them had an explanation next to their names, unlike the others who had announced they couldn’t be there. In fact, they had no indication beside their names at all.
Those who had accepted had a green check mark. Those who had declined, or had simply announced they couldn’t attend, all had, without exception, a note next to their names and a line crossing them out. And those who were still hesitating — only an old college friend of Lucy’s, in this case — had a simple question mark next to their name. But here, there was nothing. Just a line through their names. As if she had anticipated their answers before they had even given them. Had she bothered inviting them to the wedding? Had she even told her parents about the wedding?
For that last question, he suspected the answer was yes. After all, she had told her parents when she moved in with him, so why wouldn’t she have told them about their wedding? It seemed absurd.
A thousand questions ran through his mind. What should he do? Confront her?
No.
That might only make her retreat further into herself. And if their names were crossed out, there was a reason for it. He had to assume they had said no. But Tim couldn’t bring himself to settle for that option.
Lucy loves her parents. Despite everything they had said to her, done to her, or put into her head. Despite everything he had heard from her during their patrols, Lucy still loves her parents. Even the fact that a photo of them with Lucy sat on the table beneath the TV proved as much. And knowing that people that important to her wouldn’t be there on such an important day surprised him a little.
He had to talk about it. If he kept trying to solve this on his own, he would never succeed. Worse, he would never manage to be reasonable. Let’s be honest.
As if by reflex, Tim typed the number of the only person he knew could help him, his fingers moving over the screen at lightning speed. But it wasn’t a woman’s voice that answered, as he had expected. Instead, he heard high-pitched children’s cries. Only after that symphony did he hear a hoarse groan that undoubtedly belonged to the person he had been looking for.
— I knew the day would come when you’d ask me to help organize your wedding, Timmy, but I’m going to have to decline. Sorry. I’m a little busy, as you can see... Well, hear, in your case. Angela said as soon as she managed to snatch the phone from Emmy’s hand.
— Hello to you too, Angela. I need your opinion. He said, getting straight to the point, understanding that his best friend — as she liked to call herself — was slightly busy.
— I’m all ears. Well, half-listening, since the other half of my hearing is currently being held hostage by the wonderful screaming of my lovely daughter.
Tim took a few seconds to think about how he was going to ask the question.
— If... uh... If your mother had refused to come to your wedding, would you have preferred Wesley to insist with her, or to leave the situation alone?
Silence fell over the line, as if Angela were trying to understand the true reason behind the question.
— Leave the situation alone, Tim.
Tim was surprised by her response. Not because it was direct — he had gotten used to that after spending enough time around Angela — but because she dropped the answer all at once, leaving no room for discussion or debate.
— Listen. Yeah, Lucy cares about her parents, and I know you want her to be happy at her wedding, but—
— I didn’t even mention Lucy. He defended himself, still hoping to get a word in, even if it meant interrupting her monologue.
To be honest, he had hoped Angela would agree with him and push him to contact Lucy’s parents to convince them to come. But for the moment, it looked more like a defeat for him.
— I’m a detective, Tim. What did you expect? She replied, sounding outraged, as if all of this should have been perfectly obvious.
— Anyway. As I was saying. I know you want her to be happy and all that, especially for your wedding. But honestly, if I were on bad terms with my parents and Wesley invited them behind my back, without even bothering to talk to me about it when I’m the person most concerned... I really wouldn’t appreciate it.
— Mama is right. said another female voice, definitely an adult one.
Tim let out a sigh, realizing who it was.
— Nyla?
— Bingo. Listen, I know no one asked for my opinion, but honestly, if James had invited Donovan to our wedding without even thinking he should talk to me about it at first, I can assure you the evening would have ended in divorce the next hour.
— No, the real question here... added a new voice, this time male.
Wesley.
Only now, Tim realize Angela had put him on speaker.
— ...why don’t you ask her directly?
— Or at least ask your mother or Ginny? Angela added, completing her husband’s thought.
— My mother’s marriage ended with a divorce, and I can assure you the ceremony itself was memorable, but not in a good way. I know because she wouldn’t stop talking about it when we were kids, and every time she brought it up, there was always another story, somehow even more depressing than the last. And Ginny’s marriage ended in divorce too. But both of their weddings were a long time ago. I needed recent marriage advice.
Technically, among the people closest to him, John was the last one to get married. But Tim had absolutely no desire to hear John’s opinion on this matter. His advice had never been that bad, let’s be honest, but Tim needed to talk to someone who knew him well. Much better than John did. Almost like family. And Angela fit all those criteria perfectly. Then someone suddenly cleared their throat, as if to remind everyone of their presence.
Oh. Right. Between Angela and Nyla, Nyla’s wedding had actually been the most recent.
— No, but you’re different. I wasn’t planning on calling you. Don’t take it the wrong way. He said without beating around the bush.
He had known Nyla long enough by now to know that roundabout explanations were by far the thing Harper appreciated the least.
— Thank you.
— Oh, you’re welcome.
— You still haven’t answered my question. Wesley added.
Listening to him, it was hard to tell whether he wanted to solve the problem because he cared about Tim’s wedding, or simply because he wanted this conversation to end.
— Why don’t you talk to Lucy about it? She’s the only one who can answer to your questions. And besides, if you start doing things behind her back before you’re even married, it won’t help matters.
Sometimes, Tim hated how annoyingly reasonable Wesley could be.
Damn lawyers.
The future groom let out a groan, as if to make it clear he did not appreciate the question.
— I know her. She’ll say it’s nothing, that it doesn’t bother her, and then, during the wedding, she’ll have that disappointed look on her face the second my back is turned.
— How can you be so sure? You haven’t even talked to her about it. Angela added, sounding appalled by her best friend’s words.
As if to add insult to injury, Angela kept going.
— And more, the last time YOU made a decision for both of you, it was your breakup.
Ouch.
Honestly, that one stung, even though it was true. Hurtful or not, Angela continued, making it clear she was not done saying what she had to say.
— The best thing you can do is talk to her about it. You owe her that. You promised to be more communicative, and you’ve already proved several times that you can be. Keep going.
Judging by her voice, she was trying to soothe her daughter, probably hoping it would convince her to stay somewhat calm.
— And if I find out you contacted her parents without telling her, I’ll be the one helping Lucy hide your body.
The most terrifying part was that she said it as if she had already prepared everything in advance. How to hide the body, how to transport it, how to erase the evidence that could incriminate them. Lopez really was terrifying when she wanted to be.
— Should I request a restraining order? he asked the detective, who was now asking her husband to take their daughter.
— No need. I’ll find a way around it.
On the other side of the phone, Tim could practically hear the little mocking smile she always wore whenever she was annoying people or threatening them. But Tim didn’t have time to respond before the front door opened.
— Okay. I have to go. See you later.
— See you later. And don’t do anything stupid! Angela added, as if he needed the reminder.
Tim hung up as quickly as possible, even if that meant cutting her off.
Footsteps echoed in the entrance before Lucy finally appeared in the kitchen.
— Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to make noise. I thought you were talking, so I figured you were on the phone. She said, setting down the groceries before coming over to kiss him.
— Actually, yes, I was on the phone. And...
Tim let the sentence hang. How was he supposed to bring this up? How was he supposed to start the conversation? He searched for the best possible way to talk to her without making her defensive, which was exactly what he feared most.
— I’ll admit, you’re starting to worry me. Is everything okay? Lucy asked. She had started putting away the groceries, but had stopped halfway through, as if to make sure Tim hadn’t collapsed somewhere between the beginning of his sentence and the ending that never came.
— Yes, yes, everything’s fine. He replied, trying to sound convincing.
As he always had. But Lucy wasn’t fooled. She quickly tilted her head slightly to the side and frowned, as if waiting for him to admit he had lied and finally tell her the truth. The sergeant was far too weak in front of her. Of course he gave in.
— To be honest... no. I... I don’t know.
Before Lucy could start worrying any more, Tim picked up the list his fiancée had given him a few hours earlier and waved it slightly, making it clear that the subject revolved around that small piece of paper.
— Do you want to talk about it? he asked.
If she didn’t want to talk about it, he had promised himself he wouldn’t force her. He would simply be there as soon as she was ready. But he was also ready, right now, to listen to her complain, vent, or say whatever she needed to say.
— Oh... I put too many people on my list, didn’t I? Do you want me to remove a few?
He hadn’t really expected her to dodge the conversation like that, but he tried to put himself in her shoes. Maybe she simply hadn’t accepted the reality yet: her parents probably wouldn’t be present at her wedding. And maybe it was still too painful for her to talk about it as openly as she wanted.
— Lucy...
That was all Tim could say. He couldn’t blame her for trying to escape the conversation. And now that the roles were reversed, he immediately understood how frustrating it must have been for Lucy back then, when he had been the one refusing to open up to the woman he loved.
But immediately, when she hear her name, or just his way of saying it, Lucy lowered her shoulders and let out a small sigh.
Without wasting another second, she placed the vegetarian bacon on the kitchen table and joined Tim, sitting down on the chair beside him.
—I don’t know what I was expecting, honestly, she admitted.
Immediately, the conversation took a darker turn, and Tim was already ready to offer her his shoulder. Even if she didn’t feel like crying, it would always be there for her.
— Did they refuse to come because of your job? Is that it?
— Yes. she said confidently.
But just as quickly, a small sigh escaped her lips, and her confidence vanished in the blink of an eye.
— ...partly? Lucy added the word as if it were a question.
She didn’t really know whether saying it made the explanation clearer or only more complicated.
— Partly? Tim asked, clearly looking for an explanation rather than confirmation.
Lucy still took the time to nod before truly opening up this time.
— Well… you know… time passes, and I’m getting older. I think they’ve finally understood that being a cop isn’t just a phase. And the fact that I’m a sergeant now has changed a lot of things.
She paused for a few seconds, made a slight pout Tim would have found adorable under different circumstances, then spoke again once she found the words.
— I have a higher rank now. More responsibility. And yes, you could say that’s the whole point of a higher rank, but my parents don’t see it that way. For them, me being a sergeant only supports their argument that I’m more responsible for all the horrible things some people go through. I’m not just part of the problem anymore. I’m entrenched in it. And I don’t know if they will ever be able to accept that. The problem is… if they don’t accept me, then in a way, they don’t accept my life. And in my life, there’s…
Lucy stopped. Apparently, saying it out loud was more complicated than she had imagined. She took her right hand in her left and began to massage it, as if trying to relax, or maybe just trying to find a way to speak.
—Me? Tim said, realizing Lucy wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence on her own.
That was no problem for him. He would always be there to complete her sentences if she needed him to. He would do it gladly, if it could help her, if it could relieve her even a little.
— Yeah. she finally replied in a slightly broken whisper.
— I haven’t been completely honest with you. she continued. When I told my parents I was moving in with you, pride and joy weren’t exactly the feelings coming through in their messages.
Tim furrowed his brows, intrigued, but above all worried about what the rest might reveal.
— Let’s just say that me moving in with, and dating a sergeant, who also happens to be a former soldier, wasn’t exactly something they appreciated hearing.
Oh.
Right.
Her parents had always been adamant about violence, according to what Lucy had told him. But he had never really thought about the fact that the military might bother them too. Now that she said it, there was a certain logic to their beliefs.
— You told them I was a former soldier? he asked, surprised.
He wasn’t angry. It was just that, when people talked about him, they usually introduced him as a police officer. A sergeant. Rarely as: this is Tim Bradford, former soldier. So knowing that one of the few times Lucy had talked about him to her parents had involved his past in the army surprised him a little, but it didn’t anger him. One way or another, they would have found out. And besides, he wasn’t ashamed of his past. It was part of what had made him who he was now.
But against all odds, a small laugh escaped the young brunette’s lips.
— No, no. But you underestimate their ability to find absolutely everything they want about anyone.
A brief silence settled in the kitchen. Tim guessed there was something else weighing on Lucy, but he had promised himself not to push her. She would take the time she needed to let out everything she had kept inside for the past few days.
— Honestly, I was prepared for my father to refuse the invitation. My mother never liked violence, or anything that represents the police. But with my father, I don’t even know why I thought I could convince him to come.
It was Tim’s turn to furrow his brow, curious to know what she meant by that. Noticing his confusion, Lucy quickly clarified.
— My mother is… let’s say… complicated? What bothers her isn’t really the police itself. It’s the fact that I’m a cop, and that I’m not using my psychology degree to contribute to the community in the way she thinks I should. The way she tells me that can be harsh, even violent sometimes, but I can understand what she means, even if it will never change what I do or what I want to do. But my father just doesn’t like the police. Having to spend an evening with police officers or military personnel is beyond him. He refused, and I should have seen it coming from a mile away. Of course he would never want to spend an evening with people so far removed from his own convictions. In the end, I think part of me is relieved he isn’t coming. At least he won’t argue with half the guests.
Tim gave her time to finish. Then he let a silence settle between them, as if to give her room to breathe, before finally saying what he needed to say.
— No. Tim answered immediately.
Lucy raised her head toward her fiancé, frowning at his interruption.
— What?
— No, you’re not relieved. Lucy, you’re anything but relieved. You’ve been tossing and turning in bed for nights, or usually you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You check your phone three times in two minutes, maybe because you hope your father will change his mind even if you know the answer.
As he said it, Lucy’s eyes flicked toward her phone. Tim simply pointed at her. He wasn’t blaming her. He was using it as proof.
— You see? Listen, Lucy, I love you. You know that, right? And that’s exactly why that I don’t want you to lie to yourself. You’re hurt. You’re disappointed that your parents won't come, or refuse to be around the same people as you, and I can understand that. But please don’t lie to me.
He looked at her with what he hoped was a gentle expression, because that was all she deserved in that moment. Gentleness. He was relieved to see that it worked when a small smile appeared on her lips. It was trembling, yes, and anything but confident, but it was there. That was something.
—Now I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly, okay?
Without saying a word, Lucy nodded, ready to hear what he was about to ask.
—Do you want me to try to convince them to come?
The question might have been clumsy, but Lucy still seemed to appreciate the offer.
— When you say convince, are we considering torture as an option? Because I’ll admit I’d rather not find my parents in a basem—
—Yes or no?
Tim had understood that Lucy was trying to distract him, again. But he needed an answer. If she said yes, he would find some way to get her parents to their wedding. If she said yes, it meant she hadn’t managed to accept the fact that they wouldn’t be at the ceremony, and he would not accept their absence.
But if she said no, then he would make sure that during the wedding, and in the days leading up to it, regret didn’t consume her. He would do everything he could to make sure that, even without them, Lucy would still be happy on their wedding day.
— No.
It took Tim a moment to fully register her answer. But once it settled, he looked at her, as if to make sure that was truly what she wanted.
— No, Timothy Bradford, I don’t want you to try to convince my parents to come to our wedding. Oh. That was a hard sentence to say.
Lucy stopped suddenly, then gathered herself before looking at him again. This time, there was a genuine smile on her lips.
— I think what truly troubled me was accepting the fact that they wouldn’t come. That I was going to spend the most important day of my life with my future husband, and they wouldn’t be there to witness it. But…
At that moment, Lucy’s smile grew wider than usual, something Tim hadn’t thought possible.
— But I have my other family by my side. And I’ll have you.
A mocking smile slipped onto her lips as one of her fingers hooked into the fabric of his T-shirt, as if daring him to answer anything other than what she wanted to hear.
— Timothy, you’ll be there for the wedding, won’t you?
— Yes. he said, placing his right hand over Lucy’s finger, not to remove it, but to flatten it against his chest, trapping both her finger and Lucy herself.
—Yes, I’ll definitely be there. he continued. However, I’ll be accompanied. Does that bother you? She might steal your spotlight. There’s no woman more beautiful than her.
He had almost missed the sound of Lucy’s laughter these past few days. Almost, because even when she hadn’t felt like laughing, he had still carried the memory of it with him. When he looked back into his fiancée’s brown eyes, there was a hint of pink on her cheeks, a blush she was still trying to hide, which only made it more endearing.
— You know how to make a woman blush, don’t you?
Her voice still carried traces of laughter, that soft, slightly high-pitched sound that proved joy had passed through, even if only for a moment. Carefully, as always, Tim grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto the table, right where his carefully prepared cards were still scattered. To hell with the files. He had something far more important to do. Lucy’s legs pinned her fiancé in front of her, while Tim took the opportunity to bury his face in her neck before covering it with soft kisses.
— I hope that’s not the only thing I know how to do. he replied, though he already knew it was a little too late. Lucy was no longer really paying attention to what he was saying.
There was nothing better for Lucy than his warm, tender arms to help her relax and accept the situation. Was she still disappointed? Yes. Unfortunately, people could not be changed unless they wanted to change, and in this case, her parents clearly did not. But she had the most important people in her life by her side. And, in the end, that was necessary too. She knew the emptiness would continue to ache for a while. But she also knew Tim would not let her sink into it.