Part Four

"Matthew, you're awfully quiet."

He turned from the window, finally meeting her gaze. He smiled, but his eyes were still dark, the grin on his lips not reflected there.

"Sorry, I was—I was just thinking," Matthew said, picking apart his dinner.

"That chicken is too expensive for you to be doing that," Mary teased, reaching across the table to give his hand a squeeze.

"Sorry," he said again, setting his fork aside to take her hand.

She smiled. "Well, I'm not the one who said he'd pay for it."

"I—I didn't realize how beautiful the view would be from here," Matthew said, his eyes returning to the window. "Lavinia would have loved to see this."

Mary's brow knit together, her stomach dropping like a brick had fallen into it. "Who's Lavinia?" she asked, her anxiety overpowered by curiosity.

Matthew took a deep breath and released it slowly, his unfocused gaze seeing nothing out the window, not the lights, not the city.

"She was my girlfriend," he said finally, still looking away.

"Was?" Mary asked when he paused for a long while. "What happened?"

He looked at her again, the pain in his eyes so deep, Mary wondered how he kept it hidden.

"She died."

Mary felt the sadness, the ache in his words, compelling her to cover his hand with both of her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Matthew sniffed, his eyes blinking back tears as Mary waited for him to continue.

"Lavinia—she had leukemia when she was a teenager, just before she was supposed to finish school. Treatments seemed to work, she went into remission and then we met my last year at uni," Matthew sighed. "And then it came back, like an anvil, and she never got better, no matter what the doctors did. She deserved so much better than to die at twenty-two."

"Oh, Matthew," she said quietly, words failing her. "What—what was she like?"

"God, she was the sweetest, kindest person I'd ever met. She loved people, loved living. She wanted to see the world, Paris and Rome and Athens. We used to talk about traveling together, looked through hundreds of guidebooks when she was back in hospital, but I knew we'd never get to go. She'd only ever see pictures, never the real thing."

He spoke softly, his hand clinging to Mary's like an anchor, seeming to find some comfort from her touch. She could only wait for him to speak again, to share more with her or cut him out.

"I got on with my life after she died, because I had to do something, but going to an office every day was like living in my own coffin. Three years went by and I realized I couldn't do it anymore. I had enough money to finally do this, do something Lavinia would have wanted for me," Matthew finished. He brushed his fingers across the back of her hand. "So, now you know what's driven me from home. We're a couple of broken souls, Mary."

The corners of his mouth lifted and Mary smiled too, formed on shared burdens rather than separate pain.

"I'm sorry you loved someone you couldn't keep," she said, eyes filled with moisture.

"She was worth the pain," Matthew replied firmly, the cloudiness of remembrance replaced by a new fire in his eyes. "Sometimes love is worth the risk."

Mary's heart constricted as she realized he was no longer speaking of a lost love, but of one yet to be, one that was sitting right in front of him.

"How do you know?" she asked softly, her heart racing.

Matthew brought her hand to his lips, his fingers tracing over her palm. "Sometimes, you just have to trust yourself," he said gently. "Trust me."

Mary inhaled slowly, the weight of Matthew's words settling heavily in the air, clouding her senses.

"I wish it wasn't our last night in Paris," she breathed.

"So many places left to see," Matthew replied with a smirk, his playful demeanor returning. "Like I said, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

Thoughts?