Chapter Text
The bride was ugly-crying, and Judy Hopps considered that particular melody a personal victory.
Her fingers danced across the keys of her portable Yamaha, coaxing the final notes of “The Way You Look Tonight” into the gilded air of the Ashford Grand Hotel ballroom. Three hundred guests. Ice sculptures shaped like swans. A champagne fountain that probably cost more than Judy’s entire apartment. The tech mogul groom had spared no expense, which meant Judy’s payment had been generous enough that she wouldn’t have to eat fast food for at least a month.
The bride—a delicate fox with immaculate white fur—pressed her face into her new husband’s shoulder, her mascara leaving dark streaks on his designer tuxedo. He didn’t seem to mind. His tail wagged so hard it nearly knocked over a passing waiter.
That’s the stuff, Judy thought, letting the song fade into a soft, romantic hum. Make ‘em cry. Make ‘em feel something.
She transitioned smoothly into background dinner music—something light, jazzy, forgettable. The kind of playing that let rich mammals eat their wagyu beef without being distracted by actual artistry. Judy didn’t mind. She’d learned years ago that weddings weren’t about showing off. They were about service. About creating a soundtrack for someone else’s happiest day.
And okay, maybe the open bar helped too.
Manchas appeared at her elbow during the break between courses, his bass guitar case slung over one broad shoulder. The panther had been playing the wedding circuit for years, and he had opinions about everything. Especially her.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Judy reached for her water bottle, her gray ears twitching.
“That thing where you play like you’re auditioning for Carnegie Hall when these mammals would be happy with ‘Heart and Soul’ on repeat.” He settled onto the bench beside her, close enough that she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “You’re too good for this circuit, Judy. You could be playing concert halls.”
She’d heard this speech before. “I like weddings. Mammals are happy at weddings.”
“Mammals are drunk at weddings.”
“Exactly.” Judy grinned, showing a bunny’s front teeth. “Easy crowd.”
Manchas snorted and wandered off to flirt with one of the caterers, leaving Judy alone at her keyboard. She took the moment to scan the room—a habit she’d picked up from years of reading crowds. The groom’s mother was already three sheets to the wind. Two bridesmaids were taking selfies. The best man had lost his carnation somewhere between the ceremony and the reception.
And there was a fox watching her from the VIP section.
Judy’s paws slowed on the keys.
He was young—mid-twenties, maybe her age—with orange fur and sharp features that caught the light from the crystal chandeliers. His suit was expensive, the kind of tailored perfection that screamed old money or new hustle. He sat with the casual confidence of someone who belonged everywhere and nowhere, champagne glass dangling loosely from his fingers.
He wasn’t watching the bride and groom. He wasn’t watching the dance floor or the champagne fountain or any of the spectacle that the tech mogul had splurged on.
He was watching her.
Something about his smile tugged at a thread in Judy’s memory. The slight tilt of his head. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Had she played a gig for him before? Some corporate event she’d forgotten?
He caught her looking.
Oops.
The fox raised his champagne glass slightly. His mouth curved—a smile, or maybe a smirk. Hard to tell from across the room.
Judy’s face went hot beneath her fur. She snapped her attention back to her sheet music, suddenly very interested in the chord progression for “At Last.” Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Professional, she reminded herself. You’re a professional. Stop staring at random pretty boys in expensive suits.
She played the rest of the reception on autopilot, hyperaware of his presence in her peripheral vision. Every time she glanced toward the VIP section, he was still there. Still watching. Still smiling that infuriating almost-smile.
By the time the last dance ended and the guests began their champagne-fueled exodus, Judy’s nerves were shot.
She knelt beside her keyboard, fingers fumbling with the latches on her carrying case. The Yamaha was light enough to haul on the subway—a necessity when you couldn’t afford a car in this city—but the case was awkward, all sharp corners and unwieldy bulk.
“You’re incredible.”
Judy’s ear swiveled toward the voice before her head did.
The fox stood three feet away, paws in his pockets, that same smile playing at his lips. Up close, he was even more annoyingly attractive. His eyes were green, warm and sharp at the same time.
“The way you transitioned from Sinatra to that Billie Eilish cover?” He shook his head slowly. “Seamless.”
“Thanks.” Judy straightened, brushing imaginary dust from her black performance dress. “You a musician?”
“Goddess, no. I can barely play ‘Chopsticks.’” He extended a paw. “I’m Nick. Nick Wilde.”
His grip was warm when she shook it. Confident without being crushing.
“Judy Hopps.”
“I know.”
That stopped her. Her ears went flat against her skull. “Should I be concerned?”
“No! No, I just—” For the first time, something flickered across his face. Genuine fluster. It looked strange on him, like a designer suit with a coffee stain. “I heard the bandleader call your name. Earlier. During setup.”
“Right.” Judy relaxed slightly, though she kept her weight on her back foot. Ready to bolt if necessary. “So… enjoyed the wedding?”
“Honestly? I barely know the couple. Networking thing.” He gestured vaguely at the dispersing crowd. “But your playing made it worthwhile. Can I buy you a drink? Coffee? Tea? A bottle of water from the hotel minibar at premium markup?”
A laugh escaped before she could stop it. Traitor. “I should get going. Early gig tomorrow.”
She turned to grab her keyboard case, and her locket swung free from her collar.
The golden heart caught the light—just barely expensive enough not to tarnish with age, the chain slightly too long. She’d meant to get it shortened for years. Never had.
Nick went still.
“That locket…”
Judy’s paw flew to it, pressing the cool metal against her chest. “What about it?”
“Where did you get it?”
“That’s a weird question.”
“I know, I just—” He stepped closer, and the easy confidence had vanished from his face. What replaced it made Judy’s breath catch. Raw emotion. Desperate hope. “Can I see it? Please?”
Every instinct screamed stranger danger. But something in his eyes—
Against her better judgment, she opened it.
The hinge was stiff from years of neglect. Inside, a tiny photograph, faded nearly to sepia: a young bunny with oversized ears and a gap-toothed smile, pressed close to a fox pup with mischief written across his snout. Summer camp. Age ten. The last good summer before everything changed.
Nick’s breath caught. A small, wounded sound.
“You kept it.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” The words came automatically, defensive. Then her brain caught up with her mouth. “Wait. How do you know about—”
She looked up at him. Stared.
The eyes. That shade of green, like pure treesap in sunlight.
The smirk. The one that had gotten them both in trouble a hundred times.
The way he tilted his head, just slightly, like he was always listening for something no one else could hear.
More than a decade melted away.
“…Nicky?”
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CUPID ALERT!
Quest Complete: Remember Me
Reward: Childhood Friend Route Unlocked
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