Wakefulness came slowly to Harriet Hayes. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, and she felt contentment wash over her as she remembered the day before, enjoying the simple things with Matt—experiences she thought she had lost forever. Walking down the beach with him, teasing him, laughing, holding his hand, sharing a meal … she stretched as she remembered, and then she smiled and blushed, feeling a slight soreness throughout her body and remembering what—and who—had caused it last night. She couldn't remember the last time she was so eager to see what the day would bring, and she rolled over to reach for Matt—only to discover emptiness. Opening her eyes, she patted the pillow next to her. It was cool to the touch, so he must have gotten up at least a little while ago.

"Matt?" she called as she wandered the house looking for him. Frowning, she looked at the clock: 8:47 on a Sunday morning, where the heck was he? Sitting on the couch, a little confused and—quite honestly, a bit hurt at finding him gone after what she thought they'd shared yesterday—she was suddenly startled to hear a key turning in the lock.

"Damn, you're up," announced Matt as he walked into the room, delicious food smells wafting from the paper bag he carried. "I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed."

Pushing her hunger aside, she couldn't help but look him up and down with bewilderment. "Matt? Why are you wearing a suit and tie?"

"It's Sunday," he replied, as if that explained everything.

"And?"

"What kind of Christian are you? Sunday? The Lord's Day? Day of worship? Day of rest? Although quite honestly, if it's supposed to be a day of rest, why do they make you get up early to go to church?" he grumbled. "And another thing …"

"Yes, I get that Sunday is church day," she interrupted before he could accelerate into a full rant. "But that doesn't explain why you're in a suit," she said to his back as he retreated into her kitchen in search of plates.

"Well, aren't you going? I figured—after the week we've had—you'd definitely want to go and give thanks, what with Tom's brother being rescued, Jordan in recovery, and a new baby in the Studio 60 family … and, uh, you know … us?"

Ignoring the warmth she felt at his use of the word, "us," she said, "The fact that I was planning to go to church doesn't answer my question, so listen to me very carefully now: Why. Are. You. In. A. Suit??" she asked as if addressing a person of limited intelligence.

"I'm going … with you?" he asked hesitantly, suddenly unsure of himself. "I mean, is that OK? Is that against the rules or … I mean, maybe I'm being presumptuous, and I didn't know how to dress for the occasion, but I always thought … you know, 'Sunday best' and all that? I mean, uh …"

"Hold on. You're coming with me? To church? A building that will undoubtedly be filled with people worshipping our Lord Jesus Christ—the bane of your existence? All right, who are you, what have you done with the Matt Albie I know and love?"

[three weeks earlier

"What?" he snarled as he picked up the phone while continuing to type away at his laptop.

"Why Matthew. Is that how you talk to your boss?" came Jordan McDeere's mocking voice over the line.

"Oh hey, Jordan," Matt replied, softening his voice a little. "Danny's not here, but I'll tell him you were looking for him?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Can you come by my office?" she asked.

"What? Why? I'm in the middle of something, can't you come by?" Matt countered, peering closely at his screen and frowning with dissatisfaction.

"I'm eight months pregnant, Matty. You're really going to make me waddle over to your office?"

"Well why can't we talk over the phone?" insisted Matt, as he hit ctrl-A on his keyboard and deleted everything on screen in disgust.

"Because I said so. Honestly, I don't understand why you and Danny can't understand that I am your boss. Now get over here. Right now," Jordan snapped, hanging up the phone.

"Geez," Matt said, looking at the handset.

"Hey, fancy meeting you here," cracked Matt as he walked into Jordan's office five minutes later. "I'm glad you invited me for tea, I was so bored, what with two hours of sketches left to write before Friday …"

"Do you masturbate a lot? Sit down," replied Jordan.

"What?"

"I said sit down," Jordan offered, pointing at a chair in front of her desk.

"Not that. What you said before that," sputtered Matt.

"Oh, that. I wanted to know if you masturbate a lot. You know, spank the monkey, jerk off, date Rosy Palm and her five sisters …"

"I know what masturbation is, I—"

"I bet you do," smirked Jordan.

"…"

"Look," Matt said, eyeing her warily. "When dealing with women, I don't like to generally make jokes about their hormones, but seeing as how you're pregnant at all, are you feeling hormonally off today or something?"

"I was just wondering about your masturbation habits because it seems to me like you really get turned on by your own ideas," Jordan explained reasonably.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You still love Harriet," she declared.

"No! No I don't!" Matt protested.

"Matthew …." she said warningly …

"Yes. Yes, I do," Matt said sheepishly, nodding. "But look, that's not affecting the show, it's not affecting our work, I promise."

"Really? Because I heard about your lovers quarrel this morning," Jordan noted.

"That's what this is about? Look: one, that wasn't a 'lovers quarrel'" Matt said, making air quotes as he spoke. "Two, don't worry about it. You know we always bicker, but at the end of the day, Harriet and I, we're professional. We'll get the show done. It won't affect the work. Okay?"

"Nevermind about the show," Jordan interrupted, waving him off impatiently.

"Gee, my job satisfaction level just went through the roof," Matt noted dryly.

"Matthew," Jordan said, ignoring his sarcasm as usual, "I don't know what set off this latest fight, and I don't care, but I bet it had something to do with the Bible or church or god. It always does. So I want to know: why haven't you managed to get over the fact that Harriet happens to believe in God and Jesus Christ yet?"

"Because Christianity and organized religion don't make any goddamn sense, excuse the pun. It bothers me that Christians use a fairy tale to justify hypocrisy and bigotry and mean spiritedness, and—"

"Does Harriet really strike you as a bigot, or an idiot, or a mean person?" Jordan said, continuing to bulldoze through the conversation. "Have you really been in love all these years with a homophobic, vindictive, petty person? Do you really think that, even if you're right about Christianity and Christians—and judging from the Terra Haute and Little Rock affiliates, you might be, but do you really believe that Harriet's like them?"

"Of course not! She's great. She's one of the strongest people I know, and she's pure—but not a prude, I mean, she's undeniably sexy … and funny, and kind, and …"

"Are you just angry," Jordan broke in, "that after all these years, your brilliant impeccable logic has failed to change her mind about the importance of her faith?"

"Look, she's just better than that, okay? She's better than those close-minded, cloistered, bunch of …"

"Matthew, would you change anything about Harriet? I mean, putting aside the fact that she believes in the father and the son and all that," Jordan asked, "would you change anything about the person that she is."

"…"

"No," Matt admitted quietly. "Well, I would erase Luke Scott from her life, but other than that … other than that, she's … she's just …"

"What?" Jordan prodded.

"… just … I mean, whoever came up with the idea of angels probably had her in mind."

"Well, think about this, Matt. Harriet is who she is—that 'angel,' as you call it—in large part because of her faith. Take that away, and you really don't have Harriet anymore," noted Jordan.

"How would you know? She's never even tried to …"

"Why should she? I won't pretend I understand the appeal, but how does her faith really affect your life? Does she try to convert you?"

"Well, no, but …" Matt began.

"Does she try to make you do things do that you don't want to do? Has she ever even tried to interrupt your beauty sleep and make you go to church on Sundays?" Jordan said.

"But …"

"Don't interrupt. You know Matthew, I love you dearly, but you're smug and a smart ass and a bit of a whiny man-whore sometimes,"

"Hey there!"

"… and there are probably some other things about you that bug Harriet too, but she loves you for who you are. Why can't you do the same? Why can't you just accept her for who she is instead of trying to change her? Maybe you're the one who's intolerant.

"And you know, it's not even that I mind all that much, but it seems not to be working out for you at all. Maybe it's time you tried something new. You know, something like—growing up a little?" Jordan asked, raising one characteristic eyebrow. "That's all I'm saying …"

"You can go," she added, rummaging in her drawer for a candy bar.

Matt rolled his eyes as he got up, but as he walked out, there was a thoughtful, sad look on his face.

[present day

Harriet stood staring at Matt, waiting for an answer.

"It occurs to me," he said, looking away. "It occurs to me that all these years, maybe the reason that things never lasted between us was because I wasn't willing to love all of you—and not just the—many, many—parts I liked. Well, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want that to begin now, so I've decided to fix that.

"Look," Matt continued, pulling Harriet into his arms. "Whatever faults Christianity might have, it did play a pretty big part in helping you become the woman I absolutely adore and am in constant awe of.

"And I'm not saying I've changed my mind about religion, and I'm definitely not going to make this church thing a weekly habit. But maybe, with Tom's brother … with Jordan and Danny and Rebecca … maybe getting yet another chance to be with you—the one thing I wanted the most, and something I thought I'd never have … I just thought that maybe I could help you celebrate the way you want to celebrate. And maybe I'm long overdue in thanking … you know, the big guy up there, for any role he might have played. And maybe I thought that might be a nice way for us to start the rest of our lives together?"

There was a long silence as Harriet stood there looking at him, a soft smile gracing her lips, watching as Matt fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot.

Tears in her eyes, laughing slightly, Harriet grabbed his hand. "You know, it's funny," she sniffled. "You may be an evil East Coast liberal destined for hell. But somehow, you've just managed to prove to me that prayer does work."

Tugging his hand and pulling down, she planted a soft kiss on Matt's cheek. Then, without letting go, she let her lips trail over to his ear and she nibbled his earlobe before whispering in his ear with a breathy voice, "Now come back to bed, you silly man. We can go to the afternoon service."

And with a dopy grin on his face, he followed as she led him toward the bedroom.