To make up for the last few angsty chapters, this chapter is pure domestic fluff :) It's a bit long- but it was actually supposed to be much longer- but I ended up breaking it into 3 chapters instead.

Hopefully it makes a good end to your weekend!


Chapter 9: Phase Nine- Domestic Bliss

"Mary! I got it!"

Mary smiled at her sister's joyful voice into her phone. She was sitting at her desk in the second floor of her atelier where her own office was, sipping a cup of tea, waiting for inspiration to strike her. She loved the second floor of her office where she could look out onto the tiny winding street that was Rue du Grenelle. Today the street was soaked in rain, which she normally liked. Today it was forcing her to begin seriously thinking about her new line. Sybil's call was a welcome distraction.

"Got what, darling?" Mary said.

"An interview for the internship in DC," Sybil explained.

"That's fantastic," Mary enthused. "When is it?"

"Next week Thursday," Sybil said.

"You'll have to book the flight soon then," Mary suggested, "Or maybe book the private jet if father isn't using it."

"Well, if I go," Sybil said.

Mary gagged on her tea. She let out a little cough, before saying, "What do you mean 'if I go'? Of course you'll go!"

"I'm not really sure," Sybil admitted, "I mean what's the point?"

"What's the point?" Mary repeated.

"Well Larry pointed out that it starts in early September, but that's when we will be on our honeymoon," Sybil said.

"So?" Mary said, "Reschedule it. It's not like you can't afford to. If you want to break into politics, you'll need this internship."

"But it would be such a hassle for everyone to change it," Sybil said, "I wouldn't want to bother Larry with changing it now."

"It's two months away!" Mary exclaimed, "That's crap. Face it, Larry just doesn't want you to take it."

"What? Of course he would," Sybil said, "He was so encouraging of my politics."

"He was when he was trying to date you," Mary said, exchanging her teacup for a pen and beginning to idly doodle on a notepad. Her anger at Larry was brimming. "But now you're a threat to his political career. He's trying to limit you."

"Why would he do that?" Sybil snapped, "He loves me. We're getting married. He wants the best for me."

"Sybil," Mary said, tracing the shape of the handbag on the paper, "You are the daughter of billionaire. You're fairly well known. There are a lot of reasons that Larry might want to marry you and not all of them speak to the goodness of your heart and the sharpness of your mind."

"Mary," Sybil said aghast, "That's my fiancé. How dare you say that?"

"Because I've lived this life for a while," Mary said, "Everyone wants to date a Crawley girl. Everyone wants to date the Crawley money."

"Are you saying that Larry is just marrying me for the money?" Sybil asked, "He's a representative in Congress. He doesn't need the money."

"Everyone needs it," Mary countered.

"What are you saying?" Sybil asked.

"I'm saying as your older, wiser sister- you have to make decisions for yourself. You can't make decisions because Larry tells you to. We get to make few decisions in this life, but you can decide if you want to go after this internship. I think you should do it."

"We'll see," Sybil said.

"If Larry wasn't in the picture, would you go to that interview?" Mary asked.

"Absolutely," Sybil said, without pause.

"Then I think you should do it," Mary told her.

"I'll think about. I have a few days to decide," Sybil said.

Mary frowned at her sketch. It was terrible and completely not acceptable. She crumpled up the paper and threw it in the waste bin.

"Speaking of people dating other people for money," Sybil segwayed, "You and Matthew seemed chummy the last few days in Cannes?"

Mary closed her eyes happily. After their heart to heart at sunrise, things between them had changed for good. They had spent the rest of weekend together. Giovanni and Anna took them out on their boat the next morning. He had put his arm around her as they sailed over the sparkling water of the sea. They had a little picnic on the boat- champagne, fresh fruit, baguette, and cheese. They all chatted about what a success Rose's film had been and how lovely the weather was here. That afternoon, they headed to the beach. Mary had tried to read a book, but ended up falling asleep. She thought with joy about how lovely it had been to wake up and see Matthew's peaceful face, glowing in the afternoon sunshine, asleep as well, through her lashes. He'd left early Monday morning to get back to New York.

"I'd love to stay longer darling," He had told her, kissing her goodbye in the car as she saw him off to the airport, "But I truly miss William and my mother."

It had been only a few days since she saw him, but she missed him. She planned on calling him in a few hours, maybe during his lunch hour to hear about his day.

Mary remembered that she was still on the phone with Sybil.

"We finally talked about things," Mary explained to her, "And we are in a much better place now."

"Do that mean you're, I don't know, a thing?" Sybil said, laughing.

"I mean we've said we have feelings for each other, that we want to be more than friends, and then we made out," Mary supplied.

"So you are definitely a thing," Sybil confirmed, "That's awesome Mary. I'm really happy you are together."

"Thanks Syb," Mary said. She started another sketch of a bag, her pencil tracing the outline of another bag.

"Is he visiting this weekend?" Sybil asked.

"He is," Mary said, "We've tickets to see Atticus play at the French Open this weekend. It'll be nice to have our first real weekend together a couple."

"Does that mean you'll sleep together?" Sybil questioned, "Or have you already?"

Mary laughed, "No and no. After everything that's happened in the last few months, I want take it slow."

"How un-Mary Crawley of you," Sybil remarked.

"No," Mary said happily, "It is exactly Mary Crawley of me."

"Oh Mary," Sybil said, "I'm happy you are finally feeling like your life is your own again."

"It's just starting to," Mary admitted, "But Matthew really helps and I'm excited to see where this might go."

"I'm really happy for you," Sybil said, "Truly. This is what I've wanted to you for so long."

"I'll let you go," Mary told her, "But let me know if you are having trouble with the flight to DC. You need to go that interview."

"We'll see," Sybil said, "I'll let you know."

"See you, darling," Mary told her, hanging up the phone.

She leaned back on her chair, looking at her sketch. It was also unsatisfactory. She wadded it up in a ball and tossed it into the waste bin. She wanted to do something different than usual. Her life was, after all, different now, and she wanted that reflected in the new line.

Just then, her phone rang again. She smiled at the caller ID.

"Matthew," She said, picking it up the phone, "I was just thinking about calling you."

"Well, you know what they say about two minds," He said fondly.

"How's your day been?" Mary asked.

"Stressful," Matthew admitted, "We've got a particularly difficult bit of legal things to undertake."

"I'm sorry you are stressed, darling," Mary said, "Hopefully this weekend will help."

"I think it will," Matthew agreed, "I've got to confess I'm rather giddy to watch Atticus play."

"That's rather charming," Mary said smiling. "I'm glad you are coming over for it."

"I'll be getting there early on Saturday morning because I want to make sure everything is finished for WHO before I leave," Matthew said. "Then unfortunately I'll be flying back Monday."

Mary frowned. She had hoped he would be there Friday night to spend time together, but she could settle for Saturday and Sunday together.

"That's perfectly understandable," Mary agreed, "But I can't wait to see you."

"You too darling," He agreed, "But Saturday will be here soon. I've got a few more minutes. Tell me about your day."

"It wasn't much," Mary confessed, "I'm trying to think of ideas for a new line. I haven't stumbled on anything that has really grabbed me yet or speaks to me."

"You'll think of something, darling," He said, "Your designs are widely adored. Just as you are."

"I'm not sure that's true," Mary commented, "But thanks for your confidence."

"I'll always believe in you," He said, "If I send you my flight details, will you send someone to pick me up at the airport on Sunday morning? I'll try to get lots of sleep on the plane so I can be awake for Roland Garros."

"Sounds wonderful," Mary said, "Though I'm not sure I believe you."

"You do know me well," Matthew said, "I've got to go though."

"Have a lovely day," Mary said.

"And you have a lovely evening," Matthew replied.

"Good bye," He said and she clicked her phone off.

Mary sighed, relaxing into her chair, looking at the small pile of sketches that had accrued in her waste bin. What did that say?

Her atelier was empty now, the boutique below as well. She had sent her employees home earlier, the last being the assistant director, Phillipa Baxter. The young Spanish woman was married to an Englishman and had a spectacular resumé. She was the reason that the atelier functioned in general. Besides her, there were a rotating variety of employees who worked in the boutique below. In addition, Mary hired a university-aged intern each semester to help out in the studio. This semester she'd hired Ivy Stuart, whom she'd selfishly hired because she was a Cornell alum. She obviously wasn't running a huge fashion house, instead, a small operation with fewer employees. There was something homey about her business.

Because of this, Mary often stayed late, after all her employees left, like she did tonight. It gave her time to get think up new ideas and get inspiration. But tonight she had none.

Clicking off her work laptop, she stood and reached for her tan trench coat and umbrella. She cinched the belt at the waist, before grabbing Daisy and placing her in bag. After walking down spiral metal staircase to the first floor, clicking off the lights, and turning on the alarm, she stepped out into the rainy Paris evening. Her apartment wasn't far at all from the studio and she was excited to walk in the damp air. Some people spend their whole lives dreaming of Paris in the rain, Mary reminded herself, as she opened her umbrella.

As she wound the street back home, she thought of Matthew in New York doing such purposeful work. There was something rather heroic, if idealistic, about his crusade against illness. She loved the way that he used the skills he had to make the world significantly better. She wished that was something she could do. But what could she ever do to make a difference here?


It was still dark when Matthew arrived in Paris. He had slept on the plane and was grateful for Mary for buying him a first class ticket. Being able to lay down fully allowed him to actually get some solid rest on the flight. He wanted to be certain he'd have energy to give to tennis, and Mary.

He tugged him suitcase behind him as he navigated the airport, looking for the door out. Mary had informed him that the car would be waiting for him in the arrivals area. The car would pick up Matthew and take him to Mary's flat.

He saw the hired car standing there, a sunglasses driver standing outside of it. He smiled at the comfort of it. Just weeks ago, he thought the idea was pretentious, but now he looked forward to the reliability of the car waiting for him. The driver opened the door, allowing him to climb in. He settled himself comfortably, watching Paris come into view as they drove into the metropolis.

He had nearly drifted off again when the car pulled up outside of Mary's building. He had taken a particularly early flight and Paris seemed to still be sleeping in the early morning. He punched in the door code and headed up to her apartment.

He opened the door to silence. The apartment was still dim in the early morning light. Mary had texted him earlier to say that she would likely be asleep when he got there and to just come in. He assumed this must be the case. Just wake me up when you get here, she had texted him.

Matthew left his suitcase by the door. His shoes were toed off and lined them up beside it. He tiptoed up the stairs to her loft. He hoped that she wasn't opposed to him going up. He crossed the hallway to where her area was.

She was burrowed under the blankets, with just the top of her head peaking out. He smiled at her figured and crossed the room to her. He hesitated before sitting gently on the bed beside her and leaning down to press a kiss into her hair.

"No," she murmured, her voice muffled by the large duvet around her, "No waking up."

"Mary," he laughed, running a hand over her form under the blankets, "We've got to go watch the tennis."

"You sound like a small child. It's seven AM," Mary muttered, "And Atticus doesn't play till noon."

She made a fair point.

"Let's sleep till 9 at least," Mary said, taking his hand and pulling it to her face like a pillow.

He was really tired, despite his solid nap on the plane. And Mary did look so very warm and snuggly under the covers. He could hardly resist.

"Alright, darling," He said softly, following the pull of her hand to lay beside her. She offered him a handful of blanket and he pulled it over himself.

She nestled herself closer to him, letting out a small hum. He inhaled the smell of her shampoo as it wafted from her hair. He let his arms settle around her waist. He took pleasure in normalcy of this.

How was he so lucky? Just a week ago, they hadn't been talking. They'd been a mess of hurt and anger, each guarding secrets that were enough to tear each other apart. But now everything was so different. He was dating Mary Crawley. He was snuggling in bed with her. He felt the soft warmth of happiness well inside. It spread through is body making him safe and cared about in a way that hadn't felt in a very long time.

For a moment he felt so exhilarated that here he was lying beside this beautiful, thoughtful woman for the second time in a week- that he wondered if he would be able to sleep. But then the time change hit him and he felt himself begin to doze.

When he woke later from a wonderfully dreamless slumber, he could distantly hear a faint alarm ringing. Mary was still snuggled in his arms. He leaned forward, nuzzling his head into her hair till he found her neck. He placed a tiny kiss there. He could hear Mary letting out another hum. He put another kiss behind her ear, before whispering, "It's time to wake up, love."

She turned in his arms, her hands resting on his chest, her head fitting beneath his head. He put a kiss on the tip her nose, before angling his head towards his lips. He hesitated a moment, asking permission. So many men hadn't given her choices, so he wanted to give her all of them. This one she said yes to, closing the gap between them to press her lips to his.

He pulled back and took her in. Her hair was mused from sleep, sticking up in some places. He smiled at the fashionable Mary Crawley with messy hair. Her eyes were still half closed, her long dark lashes only adding to her beauty. She was wearing another silky camisole, this time in emerald green. One of straps had slipped from her shoulder, but he didn't move to put it back, intrigued at the way it gave view of the sharp lines of her collarbones.

"Good morning," He said, running his hands down her arms.

"Good morning," She replied, pressing her lips to his again, and then another time.

"Mary," He whispered between kisses, "This is the loveliest way to wake up."

She hummed, kissing him again.

"Except," He continued, "For that alarm."

She broke into giggles. He took a moment to realize that Mary Crawley was giggling- how truly extraordinary that was.

"I suppose we should wake up," Mary decided, rolling out of his arms to the source of the noise.

She grabbed her phone from her nightstand and jabbed the off button. She slipped out of the covers and stood to head towards the en suite.

"I'm going to get ready," Mary said, finally pushing the camisole strap onto her shoulder, "If you needed to freshen up at all, you can use the downstairs suite like last time."

He blinked a few times as she closed the door to the bathroom, still blissfully bewildered that this was somehow his life.

He did concur that a shower was in order and he walked down the stairs. He heard Mary's shower click on. He wondered if they would ever get to the point where they would take showers together instead of floors apart. But they had forever now to reach those parts in their relationship. For now, he was more than content to simply kiss her.

When he returned back upstairs a half hour later, Mary was flitting around the kitchen. Today she was wearing a short black and white dress with a collar that looked like something from Peter Pan. Her hair was pinned up in a bun.

As she turned for a moment to fiddle with the cappuccino machine, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist and place a kiss onto her neck.

"Good morning, darling," He said.

"You've already said that," Mary replied laughing.

"Can you kill a man for wanting his girlfriend to have a lovely morning?" He said, kissing her neck again.

He heard Mary let out a breath, before turning in his arms and whispering, "Not at all." Her lips were on his again and he could taste her toothpaste as her tongue ventured to stroke his. He pushed her back towards to counter, his hands on her hips. Her own hands were weaving into his hair.

She pulled back a few seconds later, her face blushing, slightly out of breath, "I think we should…" she broke off, giving him a smile, "Coffee."

He accepted the mug that she pressed in his hands and made his way to the stool on the other side of the counter. He had told her that he wanted to respect her pace and he meant it. If a bit of making out in the kitchen was as far as things were going to go for a while- he was still without a doubt the luckiest man in the world.

"The boulangerie is closed for some bizarre bank holiday, so no pastries" Mary said, moving to the refrigerator. "I can make some eggs if you like, we still have time before we have to head out."

"You cook?" Matthew asked in surprise, as Mary began unloading ingredients out of the fridge- eggs, mushrooms, fresh parmesan.

"Not really," Mary admitted, "I can do basics- eggs, pasta, salads. In New York my parents have a cook, which is why Sybil eats at their house most nights, even though she has her own place. I know I could if I wanted to-" she shrugged, "but I'd rather keep this space to myself. I eat out a lot anyway if I have something in particular I want."

Matthew thought about it. They had certainly eaten at a nice restaurant on their first date, and the restaurant in Cannes had been world class. But the weekend he visited her, it had been mostly street food and pastries. He had expected Mary to have pretentious taste in food, and while she seemed to enjoy gourmet meals, she was also quite normal about food as well.

"For the most part," Mary continued, as she heated the pan and poured some oil on it, "I pay for things with my own money. I bought this apartment myself. Traveling, Daisy's expenses, clothes- I'm responsible for it all. In fact, you are probably the only thing my parents have bought me in quite a long time."

"Mary-" Matthew said, "I'm quite positive that we've settled that none of this is about the money anymore. You needn't feel as if your family must pay me that absorbent amount."

She smiled, as she dropped mushrooms into the sizzling pan, "I'm actually quite fond of your charity. I'd be happy for you to have it all."

"Does your family know that things between us are different?" He asked, taking a sip of the cappuccino. If anything, Mary made excellent coffee.

"Sybil does," Mary informed him, adding the egg mixture to the plan, "But my parents don't. I'm not entirely positive they care, as long as the Crawley name looks good."

Matthew frowned at how bizarre the dynamics in Mary's family was. He just had his mother and William. Their life was simple, but he never doubted that his mother cared deeply for him.

He took another sip of a cappuccino, trying to decide if he should try to convince Mary that her family truly did care for her. Then she was putting the plate of eggs in front of him and he was too distracted by the perfectly folded omelet to broach the subject again.

Less than an hour later, after Mary fixed her make up and fed Daisy (it was too warm today to bring the bunny to the tennis match- but she wasn't worried as she'd have Matthew by her side), then texted for the car and made out with Matthew as they waited for it to arrive, they were finally pulling up to Roland Garros.

We're here, Mary typed to Rose who would be meeting up with them. She had added a heart, smile, and tennis ball emojis for good measure.

They stepped out of the car, instantly overwhelmed by how sunny it was. Mary slipped on her sunglasses and reached for Matthew's hand. They were going in at the Player's Entrance because it would provide them a little more privacy. It also made it easy for Rose to find them

"There you are," Her cousin chimed as she walked up to them. Rose was wearing a light blue sundress, her blond curls falling down from a ponytail high on her head. She pulled Mary into a hug and then clasped Matthew on the shoulder. "You both look so bright this morning. Atticus will be happy to see you. He's actually a bit nervous."

Rose started leading the way to where Atticus' suite was. "He hardly played last weekend, which was very kind of him, since he said he wanted to spend his time totally focused on my film. Except for playing with you, of course, Matthew. But well, that's not exactly the same- no offense."

"None taken," Matthew said, "I'm still flattered he even attempted to play with a novice like me."

"You're family," Rose said, a tone of disbelief in her voice, "Of course, he'll play with you."

"But this is a first round match," Mary acknowledged, "And he's highly ranked. Surely he has no reason to be nervous."

"You'd think," Rose said, "But he still gets anxious about these things. There is something rather endearing about it. But I do my best to help calm his nerves."

"He must be lucky to have you," Matthew said, squeezing Mary's hand.

"We are lucky to have each other," Rose said, open the door to Atticus's suite.

It was a large sunny space with a huge window, sofas and a tv showing a match going on. There was more to it and Mary imagined it must hold bathrooms and showers. There was a small kitchenette in the corner where some snacks and drinks were spread out.

Atticus himself was seated on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands, looking rather nervous. He looked up when they walked in and instantly changed his demeanor to a friendly grin.

"Mary! Matthew!" He said, raising to shake Matthew's hand and give Mary a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so happy you made it."

"We're happy to be here," Matthew said earnestly.

"Would you like some drinks?" Rose asked, making her way to the kitchenette.

"Yes, thank you," Mary answered for the two of them.

"How is the Crawley family?" Atticus asked, as he gestured for them to sit down on the sofa. Mary and Matthew sat down beside each other, Matthew arm settling low on Mary's back.

"Well," Mary answered, "I can only really vouch for Sybil. I haven't seen mother in weeks, which is for the best really. And father is more of the e-mail type. And Edith is really the silent type. But Sybil is well."

"What is she up to these days?' Rose asked, passing Mary and Matthew icy glasses of gin and tonic, before perching herself on the corner of a chair.

"She's all marriage plans these days," Mary explained, "Cake tastings, dress fittings, those sorts of things."

"I can still hardly believe that little Sybil is getting married," remarked Rose, "We're nearly the same age and I couldn't imagine it. But you know it does suit some people to wed early."

"It does," Mary admitted, "but I'm not sure it suits Sybil."

"Oh?" Asked Atticus, looking a little less nervous and more interested in her story.

"She's gotten this interview for a quite prestigious internship in DC, that would help get her in the door for a career in politics," Mary explained.

"That's terrific," Rose awed.

"But she's thinking of not even interviewing because she's afraid it will take away from her wedding plans," Mary told them. "And Larry agrees with her."

"No, that's horrible," Atticus gasped.

"I'm all for young women making choices that are right for them. But to put aside the career she's always wanted for guy she's known for less than a year," Rose said, "That does worry me."

"Me too," Mary agreed.

"What if you just bought the plane ticket?" Matthew suggested.

"Oh yes, that's clever," Atticus concurred.

"I hate to say this," Rose said, frowning, "but she knows that the cost of ticket from New York to DC is nothing to you Mary. She can't feel that bad wasting your money when she knows there is plenty to spare."

Mary nodded, "I agree. It's a rather good idea, but she won't feel obligated to go if I simply gift it to her."

"What if some else did?" Matthew suggested. "What if I gave it to her instead?"

"I think she'll still be suspicious," Mary admitted, "She knows that you've been eh- how do I put this darling? Welcomed into the family financially?"

Matthew grimaced but nodded, clearly understanding her implication.

"Is there someone else you know?" Atticus probed, "A friend of hers or yours?"

"There is Gwen," Mary thought, "But she's just graduated. She may have majored in computer science, but doesn't mean she's got the money to shell out on tickets for her friends. Not to mention she's caught a particularly nasty case of mono, she'll be on the couch for the rest of the summer."

"What about Tom?" Matthew said.

"Who is Tom?" Rose asked, leaning forward intrigued.

"Your best mate?" Mary asked, remembering the vaguely idiotic man they met in a dress shop a month.

"They text each other once and a while, you know," Matthew told them.

"They do?" Mary said, her eyebrows lifting.

"Tom's quite smitten with her, not that he'd do anything to hurt her engagement," Matthew said, "But he seems to care about her."

"Enough to pay her ticket to DC?" Asked Atticus.

"I think it's believable," Matthew nodded.

"Sounds like a good plan," Rose commented, "I adore Syb. Even if she is getting married to someone hideous and we can't interfere, we can damn well make sure she gets that internship."

"You'll ask Tom to help?' Mary asked, kissing his cheek softly.

"Gladly," Matthew said, taking out his phone.

The door opened and a Roland Garros official with a think accent called, "Atticus Aldriged?"

"Excuse me," Atticus said, giving Rose a quick peck on her lips, "I've got to go mates. See you out there."

"Good luck Atticus," they murmured, as he and his coach headed out with official.

"Shall we go to our seats?" Rose asked.


It was three hours later, both of them a little sunsoaked, that they headed back to Mary's flat. She was lying across the row of car, her head resting in Matthew's lap.

"Do I insta a picture of today or not?" Mary asked tentatively. "I mean on one hand. I thought today was rather fun. The weather was lovely, if not a bit warm. I got to see my cousin. I got to watch my boyfriend adorably geek out over tennis-"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Matthew said, smirking.

"No, don't deny it," Mary laughed, "I like it quite a bit when you get so excited over a good stroke. You look so entirely happy."

He stroked a strand of hair out of her face, before bending to put a kiss to her lips. "I guess if it makes my Mary happy, then it is worth it."

"Anyway," Mary continued, as she flicked through her pictures. One of her and Matthew eating ice cream together outside the stadium, one of Matthew's face lit up with joy as he watched the match, one of them taken from behind by Rose with the backs of their heads and Atticus paying in the distance- they were all very good and instagramable. Not only would they get lots of likes, but anything with Matthew would help her image. They knew their relationship, as far as they knew, was for the long term and she really did care for him. But she couldn't deny that her image needed a boost, especially for this new line (that was if she ever thought of an idea for it).

However, there was one thing making Mary hesitate to post the photo, "I want to post a picture. But well, Atticus losing a first round match- it was rather embarrassing for him."

"He seemed pretty upset," Matthew agreed.

"He was projected to do so well," Mary said, sadly.

"It must have been the nerves," Matthew said, "And well, it was marvelous of him to have been with Rose for her festival last weekend, but I know that those two days through him off his practice regime."

"What are you talking about, darling? He had you to practice with," Mary teased.

"Oh shut up," Matthew laughed back, his body shaking underneath her, "We both know it was to quench my, what was it you said? My 'geeking out?'"

They laughed together.

"You don't leave till Monday morning, right?"Mary asked, "What if we had a picnic tomorrow and posted about that instead?"

"I think that might suffice," Matthew said.

"Mmmm, good," Mary said, her eyelids flickering, thinking of how she wanted to slip into her comfiest clothes when she got home. She hoped Matthew was okay with snuggling up to watch a film and eat sushi, because that was all she wanted to do tonight. She let her eyes slip closed, her mouth curving into a smile, because she already knew he would be okay with it. He was so supportive and easy going. He made her feel safe and she was finally letting her stomach stop churning at the idea of safety.

So they did just that- an evening of sushi and pajamas. They cuddled on the couch and watched a film about Paris, one old enough that no one Mary knew was in it, on her rather large television. Mary found strawberries and Nutella in her kitchen, which made for an excellent makeshift dessert. The sun dipped low and then disappeared. Mary began to drift off on the couch and woke up later to Matthew carrying her up to her bed. She smiled sleepily at him.

"Shall I stay?" Matthew asked, placing her on the bed and sitting on the corner of it.

Silly Matthew, he had slept in a bed with her before.

"Of course you shall," Mary said through sleep, "Always stay, darling."

So he crawled in beside her, gathering her in his arms and letting sleep take them. Mary thought of how nice it was to be touched by him, how warm and safe he was- he was everything that she needed. Then she thought of it. She thought of the idea for her new line. Matthew. That was what her new line needed. Smiling at this new thought, she floated into sleep.


What is Mary's new idea? Will Sybil go to her interview? See you in the next chapter!

As always, comments make me smile :) Actually, now that I'm home for the summer they've become a bit of an event in my house (I yell "new review" every time one comes in and then usually read it out loud)!