I wrinkle my nose.“What, likeMatt’s Croissant?”I shake my head.“I don’t know… doesn’t really capture how… filling and satisfying it is.”
Matthew chokes.He turns his head, coughing into his fist.
“That bad?”I tease.“Okay, I get it.Needs to sound crave-worthy.How aboutMatthew’s Morning Glory?”
Matthew splutters.A genuine cough wracks his frame this time.He fumbles for his napkin, pressing it to his mouth, shoulders shaking.
“Yeah, definitely not that one!”I laugh, heat rising in my cheeks as the double entendre hits me.“M.M.G.for short?”
“O.M.G.,” Matthew wheezes as his laughter dies down to a chuckle.“Let’s stick toBreakfast Croissant.”
“Safe choice,” I agree, giggling.
Laughter fades into comfortable silence.We eat, the quiet punctuated by the gentle lapping of water below the bluff and the occasional rustle of leaves.I sip my coffee, letting the simple comfort of good food seep into my bones.The sun feels good on my face, the breeze a balm.I relax into the moment, content to just be.
I lean back against the cool stone, leisurely sipping my coffee, and watching the distant skyline.“Of all the places I’ve lived,” I confess.“Madison is the first that actually felt like home.Like I could stay here and build a real life.”
I glance over.Matthew is watching me, his expression gentle.“That doesn’t have to change.Yes, you’re in a tough spot, but it’s not over yet.”
“It’s hanging by a thread.”I sigh, turning back to the view.“One person…” I shake my head slowly.“I fell in love with this one person and trusted him.I didn’t realize I was giving him the power to destroy me.”
“Love.”Matthew exhales hard.His jaw tightens, eyes fixed on the horizon with a hard intensity.
I look down at my cup, my thumb tracing the seam.“Have you ever been in love?”I ask, my question quiet.
The pause stretches.
“I’ve dated,” he finally says.
I wait.
He sighs heavily.“Never in love, no.It’s not for me.”
A sharp ache blooms in my chest.Disappointment, maybe.Or heartbreak.“So you think you’re immune.”Bitterness bleeds into my voice.
He hunches forward, eyes still on the water.“I don’tthinkI am.I know I am.”
His words land like stones dropping into the lake.The finality of it chills me more than the breeze.I watch his profile.His jaw remains tight, his gaze locked straight ahead as if seeing something far beyond the Madison skyline.Something bleak and unchangeable.My own painful experience with James feels suddenly small compared to the profound, self-imposed isolation radiating from him.
“Sounds incredibly lonely,” I whisper.The words tumble out unchecked.
Matthew doesn’t flinch.He doesn’t turn.But his eyes narrow, hardening before softening again into that remote focus.The muscle in his jaw jumps.
Silence stretches.Then he speaks, his voice low and gravelly.“Better lonely than broken.”
I wince.“Yeah.Don’t I know it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, head tipping back.Tension cords his throat.“That came out wrong,” he says, tone apologetic.
I shrug, studying the cup clasped between my hands.“It’s not a rule, you know.”
“Maybe not.”Matthew lets out a slow breath.“But it’s not worth the risk.”
A wall slams down between us.Solid and impenetrable.
The air grows colder.The sunlight, less warm.
I trace the rim of my empty cup, his verdict on love settling uncomfortably in my chest.
