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The trill of his phone ringing wakes him from sleep, from a dream he can’t quite place, warm and blurry as he opens his eyes.
It takes him a moment to find his bearings. It’s early he knows, and the room is quiet except for the whir of the air conditioner. Next to him, the bed is empty, his least favorite way to wake up.
He fumbles for the phone, his heart races at the face on the screen — not as good as the real thing, but he’s smiling as he picks up all the same.
He can picture the exact smile on her face after he lets out a hello, his voice raspy from sleep.
“Good morning,” she whispers. She sounds sleepy, mumbly at the edges, and he wants to shift in bed and kiss her awake, relax her back to sleep, whatever she wants.
“Good morning.” He’d never been a “good” morning person, even though it’s his favorite time of day. He’d strictly been a “what’s so good about it?” guy — but she’d made the good make sense.
“Sleep okay?” It’s muffled, and he knows she’s curled into the pillows, trying to hide from the early hour.
“Without you hogging the bed? Absolutely. The boy missed you though.” Kojo’s still asleep at his feet, but Tim knows it won’t be long until he needs a trip outside.
“I missed the boy,” she yawns, and he smiles.
It’s quiet for a moment, and he just listens to her breathing, the quiet just waking up noises she makes. It’s not the same as her being here, but it’s the next best thing.
“Any plans today?” She asks, and he moves slightly to sit up, to wake up, a little more.
He echos her yawn as he stretches. “Got somewhere to be later, but not much before then, you?”
“Pretty busy, should be worth it, though.”
“Should be,” he rolls his eyes, and he hopes she can hear it through the phone.
“You’re still in bed?”
“Mhmm,” he says, because she knows he is, she knows the sleep-laced edge to his voice better than anyone.
“Go open the curtains,” she whispers. He’s comfortable. He doesn’t want to move. But he will, for her.
“Hold on,” he says, the floor beneath him solid and cool as he pads to the window. Kojo lifts his head as he walks by and Tim pats him on the head quickly.
He pulls the curtains back, and the first brush of sunlight filters in, blanketing the room in warmth and golden hues.
He knows she can hear the curtains opening, the rustling as he tucks the phone against his ear again. He doesn’t have to say anything.
“It’s sunrise, Tim,” she whispers, and god, he loves her.
“It is,” he says, and it’s not the same without her here, if he can’t kiss her, really, but it’s almost, almost as good.
“It’s gonna be a good day.”
It is.
—————
“You good there, bud?”
Angela’s voice is quiet behind him, and he twists slightly to look at her.
“Do I not look good?” He asks, smirking at her.
She rolls her eyes, and he’s pretty sure she’d hit him if they didn’t have witnesses. “You look disgustingly handsome, it actually makes me a little mad,” she says. “Just checking.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly, and it’s just for her, thanks they don’t usually feel the need to give each other, but it feels right for the day.
She quirks a small smile at him. “Yeah, whatever.” She pats him on the back none too gently, and he turns back around as the music fades in.
It sounds like sunrise.
It sounds like a new chance.
—————
“Ready?”
Jackson’s voice is happy, excited, and she smiles at her reflection in the mirror before turning to him.
“Do I seem ready?” She asks, fixing a final stray lock of hair as she stands.
“You seem calm.” She is. She wasn’t sure she would be, without Tim’s calming touch this morning, without his lips against her skin, his warm body tangled with hers.
“Good,” she says, just as a knock sounds at the door.
Harper sticks her head in, and the smile she gives Lucy feels calming in its own way. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she says, winking.
Lucy nods, but pauses as she reaches the door. They both pause too, but she just smiles. “I just-- you both mean a lot to me. Thank you for being here,” she says, and she will not cry, it won’t happen.
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Jackson says, and Harper shrugs.
“Didn’t have any other plans,” she says, but Lucy knows it’s fond.
“Okay,” she smiles. “I’m ready.”
The music fades in, and she walks into the sunlight.
It feels warm on her skin.
It feels peaceful.
—————
His smile is always her favorite thing, but it’s the brightest, happiest she’s ever seen it when she reaches him. “This where you had to be today?” She asks, her voice quiet.
He nods, the hint of a smirk, and she wants to kiss him already. “This what you were busy doing?” He reaches out and strokes his thumb over her loose waves.
She smiles. “Was it worth it?”
“You have no idea,” he whispers.
—————
She doesn’t cry, but she’s only spared because they save their private vows for later, for whispering against heated skin, for just the two of them, like a sacred secret.
He slides the wedding band on her finger and it’s like she’s back in their bed, the sunlight streaming in on them in the early morning.
She slides his on his finger and he smiles. (“Thanks for making it down the aisle with the ring,” he’ll tell her later, because she knows Isabel hadn’t.
“Thanks for being at the end of the aisle,” she smiles, like he’d have been anywhere else.)
He kisses her as the sun sets over the water, the sand under their feet, his hand in her hair.
It feels like coming home.
—————
She dances for hours, and mostly he just smiles so hard his cheeks hurt, watching her laugh with Jackson and Nolan and pull Harper and Angela out on the dance floor to whirl around to Girls Just Want to Have Fun.
He goes easily when she pulls him out on the dance floor, runs her hands up the back of his neck, and moves into his space as the strains of a slow, happy song begin.
He holds her close in the dark, their own private bubble, fort, safety net.
“Hey,” he whispers. “I don’t like waking up without you, let’s not do that again.”
“But it’s tradition,” she teases, because he’d been the one to enforce it. “But, deal,” she says, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.
She glances up at the sky a couple minutes later as they dance and he watches raindrops sprinkle her arms. He worries she might be upset, but she just laughs as he runs his fingers through them.
“It’s supposed to be good luck,” he whispers, his lips against her ear.
“We don’t need luck.”
He kisses her in the dark, and it’s true.
—————
“You had to pick a dress with a million buttons?” He asks later, just the two of them in a hotel room overlooking the water. It’s raining harder now, the sound blanketing the room so it feels like they exist just for each other.
“I’m sorry,” she laughs, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “Are you saying you don’t like my dress?”
He presses a kiss to her shoulder, lets his teeth sink in slightly, because he just wants to touch her, now, immediately. Forever.
“I’m saying I love your dress, and I don’t want to rip it, but I love you more, and I need you to not be wearing it right now,” he whispers, pulling her back against him with his hands on her hips and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against her neck.
“Keep doing that, and it’ll probably melt right off,” she sighs, and he laughs against her skin.
“I’m good, baby. I’m not that good,” he teases.
“I disagree,” she smiles, turning to wrap her arms around his neck. “And I’m the wife, I’m always right, right?”
He raises his eyebrows. “I was the TO, did you think I was always right?”
She laughs, long and loud, against his neck.
—————
The dress eventually comes off, and it’s the first thing he sees, draped over the back of a chair, when he wakes up just before first light later on. And it was gorgeous, and he can’t wait to frame a picture of her smiling face wearing it.
But she’s better, stretched out against him on the mattress, her bare skin soft against him. Her hair is splayed across his chest and he runs his fingers through it gently, not wanting to wake her, but craving her smile, her voice.
The curtains are open still, and watching the moonlight play over her skin last night had been almost too exciting. But he watches the sun rise over the water, and it’s the opposite feeling now, watching her skin as the light dances awake across it.
It’s calming. It’s all he can focus on. It’s all he wants to focus on.
He presses a kiss to the crown of her head and she stretches an arm sleepily across his chest. He runs his fingers up and down it absentmindedly, listening to the waves crash on the shore out the window.
Her hand dragging down his arm draws his attention to her face. She’s smiling sleepily.
“I was just dreaming about you,” she whispers, and he smiles. Her eyes are still closed.
“Good dream?”
“Good, but not as good as this,” she says, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
“Mmm, I know that feeling.”
He shifts so he can wrap his arms around her, moving so she has to roll away from him to face the window. He brushes her hair off her neck and pulls her back against him, presses his lips to her neck.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Open your eyes, baby.”
She does, and he can feel she’s smiling by the way her cheek moves under his lips.
“It’s sunrise,” he whispers. “And I love you.”
She pulls his arm around her waist tighter, tangles their legs together.
“It’s sunrise,” she echos. “And I love you.”
It feels like a beginning.