Are they just naïve fantasies?
The silence in the car feels vast, echoing a loneliness deeper than just being physically alone.
My heart aches with a sudden, sharp pang.Not just for my own shattered illusions, but for him.He was supposed to be the quiet strength opposing James’s loud cruelty.The gentle care against the sharp edges of manipulation.
But his view of love…
What happened to make someone so capable of kindness believe love is inherently tragic?
His certainty is almost more chilling than James’s blatant dismissal.
What if we’re all damaged goods when it comes to love?
The car door opens, interrupting my spiral.
Matthew slides back in, juggling a cardboard tray with two steaming cups and a paper bag stamped with theFrost & Frothlogo.The minute he shuts the door, the rich aroma of coffee and dough fills the small space.
“Okay,” he says, twisting to wedge the tray on the floor behind the seat.“We’ve got breakfast.We’re good to—” He stops when his eyes land on me.“Are you alright?”
I nod quickly, trying to smooth my expression into a mask of calm.But his expression shifts instantly as he takes in the lingering shadow on my face.
“Amy… what is it?”
“Breakfast smells delicious.I can’t wait to see where we’re going.”I force a smile, hoping it looks genuine.
He looks at me, and I can feel the weight of his skepticism.His gaze holds mine long after my shaky smile fades.His lips press together, and he lets out a quiet, resigned sigh.
Breaking eye contact, he reaches for the ignition.
After a few minutes of weaving through streets lined with stately brick houses, the trees grow denser.Matthew pulls into a small lot nestled amongst tall pines.
He cuts the engine.The air instantly feels different.
Quieter.
Cleaner.
I open my door, boots landing on packed earth instead of pavement.The air is fresh.A mix of pine needles and damp soil.Birds call out, vibrant and melodic, their sound utterly removed from the city’s hum.
Matthew retrieves the coffee and the bag from the back.
“Let me take that,” I say, reaching for the tray.
He pauses, a small smile touching his lips.“Thanks.”He carefully passes it over.
“This way.”He gestures with the bag toward a path leading deeper into the trees.
The well-worn dirt path feels soft beneath my boots.Birdsong greets us from the towering trees, the thick canopy breaking the sunshine into shifting patterns on the ground.I breathe in the air, a mix of rich earth and sharp pine, cleansing my lungs of the smog and concrete we left behind.
I focus on keeping the coffee tray steady, the cups rattling slightly with each step on the uneven ground.Matthew walks easily beside me, theFrost & Frothbag swinging in his hand.Through the foliage to our right, glimpses of bright blue water tease into view.
“Wow,” I whisper.“What is this place?”
Matthew throws me a sideways glance, a teasing light in his eyes.“Are you sure you’ve lived in Madison for two full years?”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips.“If all I did was tour the city, I wouldn’t have worked at the café long enough to own it.”
He chuckles, a genuine sound that eases my lingering tension.“Fair enough,” he concedes.“Well, welcome to Picnic Point.”
