"Captain Gentry." She shakes my hand, her grip firm. "Congratulations. The department is lucky to have you."
"Thank you,Chief."
Applause again, louder this time. I find Riley in the crowd—she's on her feet, clapping, that private smile now spread into something wider and unguarded.
The reception afterward is a blur of handshakes, congratulations, and my mother introducing Riley to every relative within a fifty-foot radius as "Aiden's girlfriend, the investigator, yes the one from the video, isn't she lovely?" Riley handles it with surprising grace, though I catch her shooting me desperate looks whenever Mom corners her with baby photos.
"Your family is a lot," she murmurs when I finally extract her from a conversation with my Aunt Patricia about wedding venues.
"I tried to warn you."
"You said they were 'enthusiastic.' That was an understatement of epic proportions."
"Aunt Patricia means well. She's just excited I'm finally dating someone she approves of."
"She asked me about my fertility timeline, Aiden."
"That's... yeah, that's on brand for her." I steer her toward the refreshment table, which is mercifully relative-free. "For what it's worth, you're handling it beautifully."
"I'm dissociating. It's different."
I laugh, and she elbows me in the ribs, but she's smiling too. Around us, the reception continues—colleagues chatting, families mingling, the comfortable noise of community.
"Hey." I catch her hand, pulling her slightly away from the crowd. "I meant what I mouthed earlier. I'm proud of you. That commendation—you earned it."
"So did you." She squeezes my fingers. "Captain Gentry. Has a nice ring to it."
"Better than 'charming himbo'?"
"Marginally."
"I'll take it."
Hazel materializes beside us with a camera, because of course they do. "One photo? For the department social media? The lighting right now is perfect, and the engagement on ceremony content is always?—"
"One photo," Riley says, surprising us both. "But no hashtags about our relationship. This is about the professional recognition."
"Deal." Hazel positions us in front of a department banner, adjusting angles with practiced efficiency. "Okay, look at each other like you actually like each other—perfect, great, got it."
The camera clicks. Hazel shows us the preview:Riley and me, side by side, commendation and captain's bars visible, looking at each other with expressions that are probably too soft for a professional photo.
"That's going to trend," Hazel says happily, already typing.
"No hashtags," Riley reminds them.
"No relationship hashtags. I'm using #DepartmentExcellence and #CopperRidgeFinest. Totally professional."
They disappear into the crowd before either of us can object.
"We've created a monster," I say.
"We've enabled a monster. There's a difference."
The reception winds down slowly. My parents leave with promises to have us over for dinner soon—"soon" in Mom-speak meaning "this weekend whether you like it or not." Derek extracts a promise for celebratory drinks. Captain Vasquez shakes my hand one more time and tells me not to let the promotion go to my head.
Finally, it's just Riley and me, standing in the emptying hall as maintenance staff begin folding chairs.
"Come somewhere with me?" I ask.
