Tim is at the kitchen island dicing vegetables when Lucy lets herself into the apartment. She barely even processes the crew members completing their set up or Kojo jumping up to greet her. She distractedly gives the dog some love as Tim glances up at her.
"Hey, how was brunch?"
The smile he gives her is so genuine and warm it makes her heart ache. Makes her wish she could just rewind and erase Angela's revelation. Or that she could just let it go. But she can't.
For some reason that she doesn't completely understand herself, the new information is eating at her. Swirling inside her and pooling into a pit in her stomach that is entirely unique to being disappointed by someone you deeply care about and trust.
And her own confusion over why this feels like some kind of a betrayal is only magnifying her discomfort and unease.
Because it's not like she suddenly thinks that everything between them is a lie. Or that his feelings and intentions toward her now are anything less than 100% authentic. She knows in her heart that they are. Knows he is not the same angry man who'd been waiting for her at the alter on their wedding day.
But it still hurts.
He almost immediately picks up on her mood, setting down the knife and wiping his hands on a towel as he studies her, "What's wrong, Lucy? What happened?"
She crosses the room to stand on the opposite side of the island from him. "Why are you here, Tim?"
He looks at her in confusion, "What do you mean?"
"Why did you really decide to do this — the show?"
His eyes flick toward the cameras and then back toward her uncertainly. But he seems to push aside whatever hesitance he has about answering the question. "I told you… at the beach. After Isabel, I —"
"Tim, stop," she shakes her head, feeling suddenly frustrated that, once again, it feels like he is skirting around the truth. And equally frustrated that she is far more upset about this than makes any kind of rational sense.
"I know about the bet."
Tim's mouth opens and then closes in surprise, his brows knitting together. "The bet?"
And though, yes, on some level he has an inkling of what's she talking about, but on another, he's certain he doesn't. Because there's no way she'd be so upset about the dumb agreement he'd made with Genny and Angela, would she?
Obviously he'd be the first to admit he'd been wrong about the process, and if he'd had any intention of actually "winning" the dumb bet, he'd certainly be doing a piss poor job of it by falling head over heels in love with his match.
She doesn't beat around the bush, and it may be one of the things he's starting to love most about her.
"Angela and Genny told me. That you wanted to prove to them that this couldn't work so they would stop trying to set you up. That is why you agreed to do the show, isn't it?"
And though the tone of her voice betrays very little, her eyes of course give her away. He feels something tighten in his chest because he can't stand the way she's looking at him — hurt and confused and maybe even a little distrustful.
He nods slowly, "Technically, yes, that's true. But Lucy —"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He shakes his head, feeling helpless, because yes, sure, he hadn't told her, but not because he was intentionally keeping it from her. "It wasn't like that, Lucy. I wasn't trying to keep it from you; it's just that it's not relevant to —"
"It's relevant to me, Tim," she snaps, and he presses his lips closed. He's getting this all wrong.
She looks immediately remorseful and the edge drops out her voice, "I'm sorry. I'm not mad. I just don't get it."
The ache in his chest deepens as he waits patiently for her to work through her emotions. Because despite her words, she does, in fact, seem a little bit angry with him.
Her voice is soft when she finally asks, "Did it not matter you? That people were coming into this with genuine intentions? That you might end up hurting someone by turning this into a stupid game?"
And she doesn't say it, but she doesn't need to — did it not matter to him that he would be hurting her?
"Of course it matters to me, Lucy." He feels completely crestfallen that she could even question that. "I made a mistake. And you know — you know I wasn't in the best place when this all started. It's not an excuse, but I wasn't intentionally trying to keep something from you.
"I honestly haven't even thought about that dumb bet since I met you because it stopped being a factor as soon as there was another person on the other side of it, as soon as you were on the other side of it, Lucy."
She nods slowly, seeming to accept his explanation, but he can tell there's something still bothering her.
"I guess I don't understand why you wouldn't have — I just feel like you should have told me after —"
Her lower lip trembles, and Tim fights his urge to close the distance between them and pull her into his arms.
"That morning, when you — you made it about me, Tim. You made me feel like I wasn't good enough when you could have just told me the truth. That you never intended for things to work, that you didn't want to walk away with a wife," she covers her mouth as she fights to bite back a sob. "It would have made a difference to me."
And Jesus, she might as well be ripping his heart out of his chest. And he feels utterly broken, because she's absolutely right. He could have told her. He should have told her. He's not even entirely sure why he didn't tell her.
He's certain he hadn't kept it from her on purpose, but maybe, subconsciously, part of him just hadn't wanted to admit one more shortcoming, hadn't wanted to have to face her being disappointed in him again.
"I'm sorry," she sniffles, and reaches up to wipe her eyes, "I don't know why I'm getting so upset about this." And she's looking at him with so much sad vulnerability and confusion. He hates this. Hates seeing her like this. Hates even more that his recklessness is the cause.
He moves around the island to pull her into his arms. "You have every right to be upset. And you're right, I should have told you, and I'm so sorry I didn't.
"Lucy, I wanted to talk to you about that morning — to explain that it had nothing to do with you, but…" He pauses helplessly, unwilling to turn the tables on her when he knows that he is in the wrong.
"But I didn't let you," she fills in. Tim had tried to talk to her about what happened that morning in Mexico — multiple times.
"It doesn't matter. I still should have found a way to tell you. I just — I didn't even think about it like that. I probably should have, but it feels like a lifetime ago when I made that stupid deal…"
He huffs a frustrated sigh as he runs a hand over his face, feeling almost on the brink of tears himself.
"I'm sorry. I know I hurt you, and that this is my fault, but I don't know what else I can do to help us get past this, Lucy. And seeing you like this — knowing it's because of something I did… god, I am completely in love with you, Lucy, but I can't keep — I hate hurting you."
He squeezes his eyes shut when he sees the surprise on her face, because this is exactly what he hadn't wanted to do.
"Fuck!" He shakes his head as he turns away from her, because how is it possible that he's still getting so much so wrong, when all he wants is to get it right for her?
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes as he tries to collect himself.
Lucy watches as Tim turns his back on her and on the cameras, half expecting him to walk out of the apartment.
"You're not," she says quietly to his back, the realization hitting her like a punch in the gut.
And yes, he probably should have told her about the bet. But that isn't what's at the root of this. It's her unwillingness to deal with her feelings about that morning in Mexico that's hurting them both.
The child of two therapists and somehow she's still surprised by the revelation that the only way out is through.
All of the emotion has drained out of her, and now all she feels is fucking awful — for dredging this up, and making him feel so damn bad when she knows that nothing about this was intentional on his part. That he has done everything and more to make amends for his mistakes, and that's it's completely unfair of her to keep putting him through the emotional wringer because she can't handle having to confront her own fears and insecurities.
And god, she is so fucking exhausted — day after day, week after week of emotional overload piling up on her until she can't figure out what she's feeling at all.
She walks over to him, stopping in front of him and slipping her arms around him, squeezing even as it's obvious he's fighting his own emotional overwhelm.
"Tim?" she asks softly when she finally pulls back from him, tugging gently at his wrists to pull them away his face.
His eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks as exhausted and miserable as she feels.
She cradles his face, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to blow up like this. This isn't your fault."
She drops her hands, looking away as she fights back tears of frustration. "I think I just — the last few days, all of this — it's just been a lot. And I think I just need some time to process it all, okay?"
He nods, his voice thick when he responds, "Of course, Lucy. Take all the time you need. I'm not trying to pressure you. I just need to know if — are you going to be okay?"
She nods, stepping back into him and slipping her arms around his neck as he settles his hands on her hips. "I will be… I promise." And then, because she knows he needs to hear it as badly as she does, "We will be too, Tim."
And she can feel the tension draining out of him as she arches up on her toes to brush her lips against his, neither giving a shit about the cameras because this is too important. What they have is too important.
"Phew, that was intense!" Lucy says with a forced laugh when they finally break apart, both seemingly regaining awareness of their audience. She glances toward Tim and he shrugs wearily, resigned to having their most vulnerable moments captured on film for the world to see.
She shakes her head, pointing a finger in the direction of the crew as she wipes away the last of her tears, "Don't you dare say we never gave you anything!"