Part Five: About Last Night

"Mmm," Lucy snuggles closer into his warmth as she wakes the next morning, memories of the night before flickering through her mind before her eyes have even opened. His chest is warm and solid underneath her cheek, and she wants to just linger here, savor this… his warmth, his scent, the feelings of his arms around her…

Except… his arms aren't around her. He's not actually touching her at all. It's her touching him — she's snuggled into and half wrapped around him. And she's realizing now how tense his body feels under hers.

And then she is completely awake — pulling away and attempting to shift further back from him and sit up at the same time, but they are tangled in the sheets and she is still completely naked, so she settles for sitting up and clutching the sheet protectively to her chest before she finally raises her eyes to his, hoping, hoping so badly that she's misreading his body language and this isn't — an icy sensation slices through her core as she meets his eyes. They are cold and closed off, nothing like they had been yesterday when he had laughed with her or kissed her or made love — fucked, it's quickly becoming clear now that he had definitely just fucked her multiple times. One look is more than enough for her to know Tim feels differently about last night than she does.

"Tim? Is — is something wrong?" she asks. And suddenly she feels so, so small. She feels faint, and there's a whooshing sound in her ears like she can actually hear the blood rushing to her head. Her cheeks are starting to burn, and her hands are suddenly clammy — the combination of the heat rushing to her cheeks and the wave of ice cold shock colliding in a way that makes her feel nauseous. She almost wants to beg him not to say the words, not to ruin —

"Last night was a mistake."

Lucy inhales sharply.

"I shouldn't have let it go as far as it did. I'm sorry, but I don't want to lead you on. I still — I just don't see this working between us long term. I already know I'm just… I'm not going to get there. I do like you — a lot, and I'm obviously very physically attracted to you, but I don't see you being my wife. And it was wrong of me to not make that clear before we…"

He trails off, and for the time since he started speaking, he's looking at her like he's actually seeing her, seeing the impact he is having on her.

And she can barely think, barely process how infuriating his words are — he shouldn't have let things go so far, like they weren't both two adults with agency — because every awful emotion she could ever imagine is flooding her body. She feels humiliated and rejected and used and so incredibly stupid for not having taken what he'd shown her of himself that first day at face value.

She let her hope — her stupid relentless optimism — that this whole thing might work blind her. But it'll be okay. This isn't the first time her willingness to see the best in people and the world has burned her. And it's certainly not the worst.

She presses her eyes closed, willing the sob that is rising in her throat and the heat that is burning behind her eyes to just wait because she is absolutely not going to give him the satisfaction of getting to see her cry like a child in front of him.

She sucks in a shaky breath and opens her eyes to face him. And he's yet another version of himself — softer now, eyes apologetic. "I don't think I'm saying this right — that came out harsher than I meant —" he reaches for her.

She jerks back from him, and surprise flickers across his face. She feels so extremely vulnerable and exposed, both emotionally and physically.

"Thanks, but I think I understand just fine," she says tightly, and god, her voice is still thick with sleep because she hasn't even been awake for two minutes and this asshole decided it was an appropriate time to rip her heart out of her chest.

"Can you —" and dammit her voice cracks under the weight of the emotion she is working so hard to hold back, and she can feel the quiver of her bottom lip even as she sinks her teeth into it to stop the movement. She tastes blood. "Can you please just turn around?"

She hates this. Hates having to ask him for anything in this moment.

He swallows and looks like he's battling an urge to say more. His eyes are sad when he finally nods, but Lucy barely registers it, willing him to move so she can crawl out of this goddamn bed with whatever tiny amount of dignity she can muster.

"I'm sorry," he says remorsefully before getting up and walking out to the deck.

She jerks the sheet off of the bed and wraps it around herself once he's out of the room. She drags her entire suitcase with her instead of attempting to gather what she'll need to shower and dress, falling back against the bathroom door once she's closed and locked it, relieved that she has gotten away from him and has a moment to herself.

She steps in front of the mirror to stare at herself and something that feels a lot like panic begins to bubble up in her chest as she presses her palms flat to the cool marble of the countertop and fights to steady her increasingly rapid breathing.

It's just sex, she tells herself. It's not like she hasn't regretted sleeping with someone before.

And even though she knows it's different, it isn't like what happened before — she can't ignore how painfully familiar it feels — having to accept that she has made such a colossal error in judgment, that she could have been so wrong about who this man really is — she feels like she's going to be sick.

She's trembling now, but it's going to be okay. She just needs to get a hold of herself. Get in the shower. And get as far as possible from that man.

Ultimately, it's her sudden need to get every single bit of him off of her skin that propels her into motion.

She lets herself cry — hard — under the spray of the shower, but it's all she allows herself. By the time she shuts the water off, her tears are gone and all she can feel is her fury.


6 hours earlier...

Lucy sighs when she feels Tim's lips brush over her shoulder. His thumb gently caresses her stomach, and how on earth is it that this man's hands can feel so damn good, so much better than anyone else's hands on her body?

She rolls over sleepily to face him. "Hi."

He smiles in that way that crinkles his eyes at the corners, and how has she gone her whole life without this smile? Impossible. She lifts her fingers to his lips and he kisses them.

He brushes her hair back over her shoulder and Lucy moans when she feels the warmth of his mouth on her neck.

And she's not sure how to describe what he's doing as he works his way down her body as anything other than worship. Her fingers dig into his back as he kisses down her chest and explores each of her breasts with his mouth — the feel of his tongue warm and perfect and tantalizing as it moves over her nipples.

He continues to work his way down her stomach until he is hovering just above the apex of her thighs and the feel of his warm breath sends a thrill of anticipation through Lucy's entire body. But he switches gears, using his hands and mouth to explore every inch of her — her arms, her legs, her sides, until he prods her to flip over and continues down the full length of her spine. He draws a quiet giggle from her when he gently bites into the plush skin of her ass. And it feels so damn good that Lucy can't even be disappointed about the detour.

He slides on top of her — his legs over hers and his chest pressed against her back — and brushes his lips over the nape of her neck before slowly easing himself into her.

"Oh my god," she whimpers, not prepared for how incredible it feels to have him inside of her at this angle. She slides her hand under her body as he begins to move — slowly, deliberately to maximize her pleasure.

And maybe, yes, their first time had been frenzied and hot and closer to simply fucking. But this is completely different — sensual and tender and soft. He is making love to her in a way that has her thinking about what her life might look like with this man in it.


4 hours earlier...

When Tim wakes in the middle of the night he's surprised to find two things missing — Lucy and the bedsheet.

He stretches and rolls out of bed, tugging on his boxers before wandering out to the deck.

She is sprawled on a lounger in front of the railing. The chair is reclined back enough so that she can see the stars, the sheet from their bed wrapped around her.

Tim chuckles. "I see you had no qualms about stealing the sheet and leaving me to fend for myself," he admonishes as he lifts her out of the chair so he can take her place before settling her onto his lap.

She laughs at the unexpected intrusion, but curls into him and manages to work one of her arms free from the sheet to settle around his shoulders. "It was either that or put my clothes back on. I figured you'd prefer the former."

He grins his agreement and then nuzzles his face into her neck, dropping a sweet kiss on her soft skin. He teasingly pulls at the sheet so he'll have more of her to taste.

Lucy laughs, "Tim, seriously? On the deck?"

He arches an eyebrow, "It's not like you weren't naked out here earlier."

"In the shower. And I was half-naked. Thank you very much."

He glances around as if to ask, who's going to see us?

Lucy fakes a belabored sigh before pulling herself out of his hold and getting to her feet.

She turns and crawls back onto him, settling herself in a straddle before allowing the sheet to drop away.

He groans, one hand sliding up her side while the other pulls her down for a kiss. "You are amazing. And so fucking hot."

Afterward, Lucy settles back into his arms and Tim dips his head to kiss her softly. "It was a really good day."

Her eyes meet his, and they are practically twinkling with happiness and affection. She traces her fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. "It was a perfect day."

And then her eyes drop as if she's almost embarrassed to have made such a silly proclamation, but Tim tips her chin up until her eyes are on his again. "It was a perfect day," he agrees.

She kisses him back and Tim feels a warm wave of fondness wash over him as he tightens his hold on her.

"This is so crazy," Lucy breathes. "I had hoped that maybe this could work, but I never… I never imagined it would be like this." She tilts her head back and there it is — that look full of so much hope and anticipatory expectation.

Tim stiffens, feeling something heavy and sludgy begin to roil in his stomach. So much for sex just being sex.

He's suddenly realizing just how far off the rails this has gotten. He's known this woman for less than four days. And, despite himself, he is actually starting to like this girl. But liking someone — enjoying being around them — does not a marriage make.

For every piece of her that has begun to grow on him — her infectious laughter, her expressive eyes, her sweet and easy nature that belies the fiery sass he now knows lingers underneath — his fundamental concerns about their longer-term compatibility haven't changed.

In fact, the few substantive conversations they've had have only confirmed for him how far apart they are in terms of life experience.

She's never been in love or even in a serious relationship, whereas he had a history of steady relationships even before he had met, married, and excruciatingly lost the love of his life.

By her age, he'd done two tours in Afghanistan and Iraq and had been the second in charge of a squad of ten soldiers. She'd shared a story about a rescue dog she had fostered and been unable to keep but still considered partially hers because a co-worker had stepped up to adopt him.

He had spent over a decade in the LAPD, steadily climbing the ranks to TO and then Sergeant. She had gone to college, attempted several different graduate programs before finally settling on journalism, and — though it's painfully clear to him that she has been successful in her work — there is no doubt she is still very early on in her career.

And even if he could set all of that aside, every minute he's spent with Lucy so far has only continued to solidify what he had basically known from first sight — they are very, very different people that see the world in very, very different ways.

And while that may be fun and games to explore while in paradise, especially when boosted by a surface level attraction so hot he can barely think straight, it doesn't change the reality of their situation.

Lucy had come here to meet the man she hoped would be her husband, and, at this point, he's not entirely sure what he came here for, but he feels pretty certain about two things. He will never be able to measure up to the ideas Lucy had in her head before she had even met him, and hell, he's still not even entirely sure he would want to. And he still has no intention of leaving here with a wife.

He gets to his feet without warning her and she clutches at him while giggling in surprise. "Sorry," he says distractedly as he sets her down and moves to head back into the room.

Lucy tugs at his hand and he turns to face her. "Hey — are you okay?"

And those damn eyes of hers — so full of genuine concern — pulling him back in like the idea of him having any free will when it comes to her is an absolute joke.

He swallows back the thick ooze of dread that is climbing up the back of his throat and shakes his head, pulling her into a hug. "I'm good. I think you just completely wore me out," he laughs. "Why don't we get some sleep?"

She pulls back and gazes at him for a few moments and Tim can see she's still not completely convinced. But she simply nods and offers him a sweet smile. "Okay," she agrees and allows him to lead her back to bed.


Tim gets dressed while Lucy is in the bathroom and then sinks down onto the bed, pressing his palms into his eyes. What the fuck did he just do?

He's not sure what he regrets more — how far he'd let things get last night without first making sure they were on the same page or how he'd let his need to regain control this morning drive him back to a coldly compartmentalized and detached version of himself to 'fix' the situation in the worst possible way.

He's not even sure why he had felt such an intense need to push her away; he had actually been almost angry with her.

And then it had been like he had suddenly woken up — saw her as Lucy, the affectionate and caring woman who had done nothing to hurt him, and not as some kind of threat. And it had felt like she was slamming her tiny little fist as deeply as possible into his gut with only her eyes. He's not sure he'll ever stop seeing it in his head — the intensity of her confusion and hurt and distress as she tried to process his words. He hadn't been prepared for how her reaction would make him feel. Hadn't given much thought to her feelings at all when he'd chosen his words.

And it's not that he doesn't still have his concerns or doesn't think that his reasons for pumping the brakes are valid. He does. But there were probably about a million better ways he could have handled the situation. It's not her fault he can't see this process working for him, that he can't see her as the woman he will spend the rest of his life with.

He scrambles to his feet the minute Lucy emerges from the bathroom, desperate to clean up his mess, but she is already turning to leave, grabbing her phone, wallet, and a key to the room on her way out.

His stomach bottoms out when he sees that she has her suitcase with her, and suddenly the reality that he very well could never see her again if she decides to leave washes over him.

His heart doesn't leave his throat until he sees her shove the bag into the closet, and she's reaching for the door when he finally spurs himself into motion.

He strides across the room, "Lucy, can you please just let me —" And it's barely even a graze, his fingers brushing her elbow as he reaches to stop her, but as soon as he makes contact he realizes his mistake.

She whirls on him and he takes a step back. Her eyes are steely and he can feel the anger radiating from her. She crosses her arms and stares at him, and he realizes she's waiting for what he has to say.

He pauses, a little taken aback at seeing so much distrust in her gaze that, up until this point, had always been so open to him. He swallows, "Lucy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt —"

She scoffs, "Are you kidding me right now? I think that's exactly what you meant to do."

He stares at her in confusion; does she really think he had intended to hurt her? "No, that's not —" he stops short, realizing that arguing his intent isn't going to change the impact.

"I handled this badly. I know that. I just — I think a strong physical connection can sometimes distort —" His eyes soften, "I care about you, and I don't want to mislead you about where I'm at — emotionally." He rubs his hand over his face; he's getting this all wrong again. "Look — I don't think I'm explaining this well. I—"

Lucy holds up a hand to stop him, and the coldness in her voice is even a bit surprising to her own ears, "I don't need you to explain it to me, Tim. I'm not an idiot. And I'm not a child. I don't need you to teach me the difference between physical and emotional intimacy. If you wanna be an asshole for the next seven weeks, you go ahead. But don't pretend like it's because you're thinking about my feelings. No one that actually cared about me would treat me the way that you have."

Tim flinches, but she continues, "Believe it or not, one night of sex with you did not cause me to fall hopelessly in love with you. "

He opens his mouth to protest but then stops because, as awful as it sounds in her words, it is a pretty accurate summary. Hadn't he been worried that their night together would lead to her having feelings that he didn't have any intention of reciprocating, that she'd begin to expect more from him in this experience than he was willing or able to give?

"And Tim?"

He meets her eyes so she knows that he's listening.

"If you touch me again, I'll punch you in the face."

His eyes widen as he quickly nods his understanding. And then the door is slamming shut behind her with a bang before Tim is fully able to process what just happened.


He doesn't see Lucy again after their confrontation, except for a quick glimpse of her chatting briefly with someone in production. It's Brad — the PA that had basically tried to grope her on their wedding day. Tim feels his whole body tense, hating that something he had done may have led to her going to him for a favor. Though he certainly can't blame her for finding a way to bail out on the casual afternoon of group activities on the beach.

He half-heartedly plays a few games of volleyball and listens to the others chattering away about their excursions from the day prior and how their relationships are going so far, and he can't help but realize how much he wishes she was here with him. Everything over the past few days has been better with her by his side.

He feels a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the realization that it's unlikely the rest of their time together is going to be anything other than misery for them both.

He bolts up to the room the first chance that he gets when they break for lunch but she's not there. He sighs, feeling more and more compelled to make sure she's okay with every hour that passes, but she is, of course, entitled to her space and doesn't even owe him a single conversation at this point if she doesn't want one.

He tries again later in the afternoon, this time attempting to text her, though he's pretty much expecting she will ignore him. "I'm sorry. I feel like I owe you a proper explanation. Can we talk?"

And later, "Can you at least just let me know you're okay?"

He sighs dropping down onto the bed, realizing how much he hates this. And it doesn't even make sense. He didn't even know this woman a week ago. She is a grown-ass adult who was doing just fine before they'd met. She hardly needs him keeping tabs on her.

But he can't deny that on some level, he feels responsible for her, even oddly protective toward her. Clearly, an instinct that had gone missing this morning when he had stomped on her heart, but an instinct all the same. Stupid reality show or not, she is technically his wife, and not knowing that she's okay, where she is, or if she's even going to come back is striking a nerve that's a little too familiar for him in a very painful way.

His phone vibrates — she's responded with the middle finger emoji.

He laughs out loud. The response is far more than he deserves. But he's starting to realize that Lucy has more grace in her pinky finger than he does in his entire body.


"I'm sorry, what?" Angela asks, mouth dropping open in disbelief on the screen of his phone.

Tim stays silent, it's clear she's not done.

"Oh, Tim. You have got to be kidding me. Tell me you did not actually say that to her. You fucked her and then you dumped her? Did someone dunk you in a vat of stupid?"

Tim runs a hand over his face; he can always count on his best friend to give it to him straight.

He heaves a sigh. "I was trying to be honest. Look, Angela, I know I fucked up. I don't need you to rub it in; I need you to tell me what to do."

She shakes her head, and Tim is surprised at the sadness in her eyes when she speaks again. "I just — the fact that she's still in Mexico at all says a lot about her character. She must have been crushed Tim; I know I would have been."

His throat tightens; he doesn't like having to sit with the idea of that.

"I don't understand why you're pushing her away to begin with. You're clearly attracted to her. You seem to even like spending time with her on occasion, which is saying something for you. And it sounds like you had a great day and an even better evening and then you just decided to blow it all up. Why are you so scared of just giving this a chance? Seeing where things go?"

"I'm not scared," Tim snaps defensively. "Besides, what's the point? How much of a dick would I be if I led her on for eight weeks when I already know this isn't going to work out?"

"How could you possibly know that?"

Tim sighs with frustration, "I just do, Angela. She's just so… good."

Angela stares back at him, "You realize you sound like a lunatic, right?"

"She's just too —"

"Too what?"

Tim runs a hand back through his hair in frustration. "I don't know… too happy?"

Angela snorts with derision, "She sounds awful."

Tim glares at her before continuing, "I don't know how I know, Angela, but I just do — she's just too different from me in too many ways. She's young and she's sweet and she's all wide-eyed, and she looks at the world like it is all sunshine and rainbows.

"And you know what? You're right. Those are all good things. I do like her. I do like being around her because she is great — amazing, even — and I can already tell she is a way better person than I'll ever be. But she can be all of those things and still not be the right person for me. Angela, you know the life I've led… can you really see me with someone like that?"

"What do you actually know about the life she's led, Tim? Didn't you say she was the reporter that went undercover in the cartel?"

"She was," Tim frowns, realizing that he, too, is having trouble reconciling that with the woman he's been describing to Angela.

"And honestly who cares if she's a little younger and she doesn't have all the same battle wounds you have? You're not supposed to end up with someone who is exactly like you, Tim. You need someone who complements you. Maybe you'd benefit from some sunshine and rainbows. Get back to who you were before —"

She stops, and Tim shakes his head, the hurt evident in his voice. "That's not fair, Angela."

"I know," she says softly. "I just want to see you happy again. That's all Genny wants too. I just think that — and I know this is crazy — but… maybe instead of assuming you already know all you need to know, maybe you should try actually getting to know her and then make up your mind."

Tim groans; she just doesn't get it. Even if she is making some valid points, they still don't change what he already knows in his gut. He shakes his head. "What would even be the point now? I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed."

"Now that, I don't disagree with you on." She shakes her head, "I still can't believe you did that. Poor Lucy."

Tim frowns, not entirely appreciating the reminder.

Angela starts to laugh, "Did she really threaten to punch you in the face?"

Tim chuckles, rolling his eyes as he nods.

"Good for her!" The humor fades from her expression, "I'm so sorry, Tim."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Maybe — maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe we shouldn't have pushed you so hard to do this. What happened with Lucy — clearly, you weren't ready to dive into something this extreme."

And even despite the fact that he's pretty much ruined any chance of having her in his life after this in any capacity, his mind immediately rejects the idea. Because the idea of not having met her, not having known Lucy at all feels so completely wrong.

It's not something he really knows how to process or make sense of in the moment, but he feels pretty certain about it.

"Tim — one last thing. I know you, and I know that deep down you have a really good heart. I still can't quite connect the dots on how you were dumb enough to do what you did this morning, but I know that in that weird Tim way of yours you think you're somehow protecting her by stopping this thing before it can start. But if you ask me… the only person you're protecting is yourself."

Tim opens his mouth to protest but Angela raises her hand to stop him, "I already know you vehemently disagree. Just promise me you'll think about it, okay?"

Tim grudgingly nods, though he has very little intention of actually thinking about it. Her words are making him more uncomfortable than he's willing to admit.


"Hey! How's the honeymoon?"

And the minute she sees Jackson's face, his kind smile through the screen, Lucy's eyes begin to well.

"Lucy, what's wrong?"

She wipes at her eyes, swallowing, "Do you remember that thing you told me at the wedding?"

Jackson shakes his head.

"To keep my guard up, so I didn't get hurt — well… apparently, I should have taken your advice."

"What happened?"

"Wow." It's all Jackson says when she finishes. "This guy is — " he shakes his head, jaw clenching as he processes his anger. "I think you should come home."

"You know I can't, Jackson. I signed a contract. Besides, I feel like if I leave I'd be quitting or letting him win or something and I hate that."

Jackson shakes his head, "You didn't sign up for this; you signed up for a lot, but it almost sounds like he's gaslighting you or something."

Lucy is quiet for a few moments and then shakes her head. "He's not gaslighting me — he's not lying to me or trying to manipulate me to some self-serving end. And, look, I'm not arguing that he hasn't been a jerk or that he hasn't treated me badly, because he absolutely has but it's like he just… I don't know. I think he's actually just being honest and is just really, really bad at human interaction. I am starting to question whether he might have multiple personalities though."

Her eyes fill again, "God, things were so good yesterday, Jackson. But I just — I'm so angry. He either came here with no intention of making it work, which is such a dick move because he robbed me of my experience, or he somehow already knows in less than five days that there is no way I could possibly be good enough for him."

"Lucy. Stop. First of all, with everything you told me, it seems like whatever it is that happened this morning with him was a whole hell of a lot more about him than it was about you. And even if he's a complete moron and decided that you aren't the right partner for him without even giving it a legitimate shot, then one, yes, he's a massive dick; two, you dodged a bullet; and three, not being right for someone does not mean you aren't good enough for someone. It seems like this guy couldn't be nearly good enough for you."

Lucy nods, and wipes at the tears trickling down her cheeks, "How do you always figure out how to say exactly what I need to hear?"

"What are best friends for?"

Lucy gives him a grateful smile before continuing. "And, okay, even if he legitimately didn't want to lead me on, he couldn't have had the decency to not do it when I was still fucking naked in bed right next to him? It was so humiliating."

Jackson nods, "Yeah, that was a shitty thing to do." He hesitates before continuing, "I actually did some digging for you — not sure if you care to hear it at this point?"

Lucy shrugs, a little annoyed with herself that she does, in fact, want to hear it.

"It sounds like he's a good cop, well-respected, but he does have a reputation for being a bit of a prick and a real hard-ass with the rookies he trains. It's kind of a TO thing — a lot of bluster and being standoffish and keeping people at arm's length."

She nods, "I can definitely see that. But I'm not one of his rookies. God, I was kind of hoping you'd find out he was a terrible person."

Jackson laughs, "I don't know, Lucy, and, trust me, I am not advocating for you giving this guy another chance because if I had it my way, you'd be done with this whole thing. But just looking at it objectively — it does sound like things started to move kind of fast, do you think it's possible he maybe got a little in his head and freaked out a bit? Did y'all talk at all before…?"

Lucy shakes her head, an icky feeling of uncertainty beginning to form in her gut. "Not really. Well — kind of, I guess. The other night at dinner, we talked about being physically intimate without an emotional connection."

Jackson frowns. "Was that what it was? Just physical?"

Lucy swallows, feeling suddenly very confused. "I guess — I mean. I don't know." She isn't really liking the direction the conversation is going.

Jackson's voice is gentle. "Lucy, you have every right to be upset; whatever it was, this guy treated you like crap, but…"

"What?"

"You seem pretty upset about it if it really was just sex."

Lucy drops her gaze to the ground, trying to process his words.

"Have y'all emotionally connected?"

"I — I don't know. We've had a few conversations. Nothing super deep, but —"

"You're married," Jackson fills in. "Look, Lucy, I'm not saying you're wrong because I think it's absolutely valid that you came into this thing expecting to find a husband. That was the whole point. But I wonder if… do you think maybe you're more emotionally connected to the idea of him than you actually are to him? And maybe that's why you're so upset?"

"I'm upset because he's a dick, Jackson," she snaps defensively.

But even as she's saying the words, she's remembering Gianna's words from yesterday in her head, I really do feel like every time I give an inch, he tries to take a mile… And that makes me feel like I can't be nice if I don't want him to misunderstand my intentions, you know? And later, her own words to Tim, I had hoped that maybe this could work, but I never… I never imagined it would be like this. And then the way he had stiffened and pulled away.

She swallows. Is Jackson right? Had she projected her expectations about coming here to meet her perfect match and what she wanted to be happening between them onto what was actually happening? Worse yet, had Tim been right to worry she would read too much into what had happened between them last night?

She deflates because she already knows the answer — she had started to develop feelings even though he hadn't given her any reason to think he was invested in anything other than a physical connection with her. Sure, they had had fun together. And the attraction between them was undeniable. But ultimately, they hadn't had more than a handful of conversations that even scratched beneath the surface. They hadn't opened up to each other in any significant way. So why — beyond just being angry at the way he had treated her — was she so heartbroken over this?

Jackson shakes his head and raises his hands in surrender, "No argument here. You just seemed really happy yesterday when you texted and it sounded like you guys were maybe actually starting to connect. I'm sorry, Lucy. I really wanted this to go differently for you."

Lucy nods, swallowing back the bubble of emotion building in her throat. "I did, too."

"I'll come to Mexico and kick his ass for you if you want."

Lucy laughs, "You know I'm perfectly capable of kicking ass all on my own."

"That I do know. You know I have to ask, though…"

"What?"

"How was it? Basic and caucasian or …"


Lucy's out on the deck when Tim gets back to the room after dinner. She's curled up in one of the chairs, arms wrapped around her knees looking out at the sun setting over the ocean.

And she is just so… "Beautiful."

He doesn't even realize he's said it aloud until she startles, swiveling to glance back at him before returning her attention to the view.

And he has to force his hands to remain still at his sides, the urge to reach out and touch her, to pull her into his arms is so strong.

"Lucy, can we talk?"

She turns to look back at him, "I don't really want to be around you right now."

And it's all she says. And maybe it cuts even deeper because she doesn't say it with anger. She's just being honest.

"Yeah. I get that. I just — can I just say one thing? And then I promise, I'll leave you alone."

She sighs and shrugs, not bothering to look at him, and, truthfully, he's grateful. He can't stomach seeing those wounded brown eyes staring up at him again. He settles into the chair next to her, taking a deep breath to steel himself.

He's feeling more than a little uncomfortable about having to talk about the wild sex they'd had the night before with a woman he's only known a few days, but knows he needs to set things straight. He raises his eyes to hers, wanting her to know that he means the next words that come out of his mouth.

"I — uh. Look, I know I hurt you, and I'm not just talking about this morning. I've been an asshole since the moment we met, and you've been nothing but good to me. And I get that nothing I say is going to fix what I did, but I feel like I owe you — I just need you to know that you didn't do anything wrong —"

"I know I didn't," she snaps. Her anger is back again, and it's actually a relief. Because anger is something Tim knows intimately, an emotion he is comfortable with.

He takes a deep breath, "I know we don't know each other that well, and I'm not trying to make an excuse for my behavior because there isn't one. But there's some stuff in my past — I just don't do very well when I feel like I'm not in control, and last night…"

"It was kind of unhinged," she laughs wryly, but he can still hear the hurt in her voice.

"It was incredible. You were incredible, but I — this whole thing has put me so far out of my comfort zone, and I'm realizing that I have a lot of stuff to work on and work through, but I'm really going to try to stop making you collateral damage, Lucy. You deserve better from me, and I know that."

She turns back to him after a few more moments of silence between them. "Okay," she says simply. "To be clear, I am never having sex with you again after that, but at least the next seven weeks will be a little less uncomfortable."

Tim chuckles mirthlessly, knowing that despite the wry humor in her tone, she's not joking. Whatever his intention, there's no question that he's hurt her deeply and he's going to have to do a lot more than just apologize to get them back to a place where she would even consider being that vulnerable with him again, physically or otherwise.

And considering that he still has his mind made up about how this is going to turn out come decision day, he's surprised by how heavily he feels the weight of the realization in his stomach.

Her decision to come into this with so much openness and vulnerability, such a willingness to try with him wasn't youthful naïvete or eagerness — he's starting to see that it was incredibly brave and actually quite beautiful — it had been a gift, one that he hadn't even realized he'd been given until it was gone.