Chapter Seven – Tessa
“Can you help us build a fairy house?” Lucy asked with such solemn seriousness that Tessa had to press her lips together to keep from smiling. “We have the pine cones and sparkly rocks, and everything from yesterday.”
“Of course,” Tessa said, although she’d have preferred a cup of coffee first.
“Why don’t we ask Matt to help?” Aria was already racing after Matt, who hadn’t gotten far, before Tessa had a chance to object.
Not that she wanted to object. She’d enjoyed their chance meeting; it had given her a chance to get to know him outside of the restaurant setting.
And she liked what she saw. She liked it a lot.
Which was exactly why she should object. She’d promised herself she would keep her distance from Matt so as not to jeopardize Rachel’s job.
“Matt. Matt.” Aria slid to a halt as he turned around. “We’re building a fairy house. Want to help?”
Matt hesitated, his eyes darting to Tessa as if seeking permission or perhaps rescue. “I, uh—” He glanced at his watch, then back at Aria’s expectant face. “The restaurant doesn’t open for a few hours yet.”
“Please?” Lucy joined her sister, the two of them forming an adorable, pajama-clad barrier between Matt and any chance of escape.
Something shifted in his expression—a softening around the eyes, a slight curve of his lips beneath his neat beard. “I should warn you,” he said, crouching down to their level, “I’ve never actually built a fairy house before. I grew up with all brothers. We were more into forts and mud pits.”
The simple admission made Tessa smile despite herself. There was something disarmingly honest about the way he’d said it.
“We can teach you!” Aria declared, grabbing his hand without hesitation. “Tessa knows how to. She’s really good at it. She’s drawn loads of fairies and fairy houses and fairy furniture...”
And just like that, Matt Thornberg, kitchen manager, was being led by two little girls in pajamas toward the patch of garden beneath the big tree they had chosen as the ideal spot.
Tessa followed, her sketchbook clutched to her chest like a shield.
This wasn’t part of the plan. Matt was supposed to go home.
She was supposed to help Rachel, work on her illustrations, and keep a safe emotional distance.
Not spend the morning building fairy houses with a man who made her heart race with just a look.
“We need twigs for the walls,” Lucy instructed, already scanning the ground for materials. “And moss for the roof.”
“I thought roofs were supposed to be made of leaves,” Matt said, looking genuinely puzzled as he lowered himself to the grass.
Aria shook her head vigorously. “Leaves blow away. Moss stays put.”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” Matt said, his eyes finding Tessa’s with an amused glint that made her stomach flip.
Before long, they had assembled a small pile of building materials—twigs of various sizes, clumps of moss, smooth stones Aria had been collecting for weeks, and the pinecones and stones they’d gathered yesterday on their hike.
Matt crouched on the grass, large hands carefully holding twigs in place while the girls argued about the proper architectural approach.
“No, it needs to be taller!” Aria insisted.
“But then it might fall down,” Lucy countered, her small face screwed up with concentration.
“What if we build it against this rock?” Matt suggested, pointing to a fist-sized stone embedded in the soil. “Then it has something to lean on.”
Both girls considered this with grave seriousness before nodding their approval.
There was something about seeing Matt like this—patient and attentive with children—that made her chest ache in the strangest way.
He listened to them as if their opinions on fairy house construction were as valid and important as any adult’s.
When Lucy handed him a particularly delicate twig, he accepted it with the same care he might show a precious artifact.
And occasionally, his eyes would find hers over the girls’ heads, sharing a moment of quiet connection that felt both new and somehow familiar, as if they’d been exchanging these private glances for years.
“I think the door should go here,” Aria was saying, pointing to a space between two crossed twigs.
Matt carefully positioned a flat stone as a doorstep. “Like this?”
“Perfect!” Lucy clapped her hands, then frowned as the movement caused the entire front of the structure to collapse. “Oh, no!”
“Third time’s the charm,” Matt said cheerfully, already gathering the fallen twigs.
The creak of the screen door drew her attention to the house. Rachel stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on a makeshift crutch, her face tight with discomfort despite her obvious attempt to appear casual.
“I thought I heard voices out here,” she said, her eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of Matt.
“You should be resting,” Tessa said, immediately rising to her feet and hurrying toward her friend. “Let me help you.”
“I can rest just as well out here. I could use the fresh air,” Rachel protested, but she accepted Tessa’s supportive arm as she navigated the porch steps.
Matt was on his feet in an instant, his attention shifting to Rachel’s ankle with the same focused competence she’d seen in him at the restaurant. “How’s the swelling?” he asked, not hovering but clearly ready to assist if needed.
“Better,” Rachel said, allowing Tessa to guide her to a garden chair. “Still hurts like hell, though.”
“Elevation and ice,” Matt said with quiet authority. “And no weight on it if you can help it.”
There was nothing flashy about his concern—no dramatic gestures or excessive sympathy—just practical, grounded attention to what needed to be done.
It was the same steady presence he brought to the kitchen, Tessa realized.
And somehow, that pragmatic care felt more intimate than any grand gesture could have.
“I’ll get you some ice,” she said, turning toward the house. “And then I’ll make us some breakfast.”
“I can help,” Matt offered, falling into step beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Least I can do after being invited to the fairy house construction project.”
The kitchen was small, forcing them to move around each other in close proximity. Tessa expected it to be awkward, but instead they fell into an easy rhythm while she wrapped ice in a clean tea towel. Matt found where the eggs were kept and gathered more ingredients for breakfast.
“I’ll take this out to Rachel and then come back and give you a hand,” Tessa said.
“No problem, I have it all under control.” He flashed her a smile, and she clutched the tea towel containing the ice tighter.
Tessa hurried outside with the ice pack, her heart still racing from the closeness of the kitchen. Her cheeks felt warm, and she ducked her head as she approached Rachel, not wanting her friend to read everything that must be written across her face.
“Here,” she said, carefully positioning the ice pack on Rachel’s ankle. “This should help with the swelling.”
Rachel accepted it with a grateful smile, but there was a knowing glint in her eye that made Tessa busy herself with adjusting the position of the chair, making sure Rachel’s foot was properly elevated.
“I’m starving,” Aria announced, abandoning the fairy house construction to flop dramatically onto the grass.
Lucy perked up, her small face brightening with inspiration. “We should have a fairy breakfast!” She clasped her hands together. “We can put a blanket on the grass and eat by our fairy house.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Rachel said, her eyes crinkling at the corners despite the pain Tessa could see she was still in.
The girls immediately sprang into action, running to fetch a blanket from the porch bench where Rachel kept outdoor supplies. They spread it on the grass with surprising efficiency, smoothing out wrinkles with determined little hands.
“I’ll go see if Matt needs any help,” Tessa said, turning toward the house.
She stepped back into the kitchen and found Matt working with the skill she would expect of a man who spent most of his time in a busy kitchen. The eggs sizzled perfectly in the pan as he added a pinch of salt with one hand while flipping toast with the other.
“Need any help?” she asked, her voice coming out a bit softer than she’d intended.
Matt glanced up, a smile forming beneath his beard. “Almost done with the eggs. Toast could use some butter, though.”
Tessa moved to his side, reaching for the butter dish on the counter.
She was intensely aware of how close they stood, their elbows occasionally brushing as she spread butter across the warm toast. The simple domesticity of the moment felt dangerous somehow—like playing with fire while pretending it wouldn’t burn.
“The girls are setting up a picnic blanket outside,” she said, focusing on the task at hand rather than the warmth radiating from Matt’s body. “They want a fairy breakfast by their fairy house.”
“Fairy breakfast, huh?” he chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. “I’ll have to make sure these eggs are extra magical, then.”
She loved that he didn’t dismiss their fairy house as silly or childish. Instead, he embraced it and more, was ready to take part in the make-believe.
“I’ll help you carry everything out,” she offered. “We don’t want to keep the fairies waiting.”
“No, we do not,” Matt said, his tone all serious in the best possible way.
They ate in the dappled sunlight, the fairy house standing proudly (if somewhat precariously) nearby. The girls could barely contain their excitement as they finished their breakfast, eager to present their creation.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aria announced with theatrical flair once the last bite had been eaten, “may I present the official fairy house of this beautiful garden!”
Tessa glanced at Matt as he sat enraptured by the show.
“The fairy queen has inspected it,” Lucy added solemnly, “and she approves.”
The three adults erupted in applause and cheers.
“Well, if the fairy queen approves, it must be excellent construction,” Matt said, his tone solemn though his eyes crinkled at the corners.
The girls beamed with pride, and Tessa felt a lightness bubble up inside her—a sensation so foreign that it took her a moment to recognize it as simple joy.
It had been so long since she’d felt this kind of uncomplicated happiness.
It reminded her of summers with Rachel when they were young, before life had grown complicated, before loss and responsibility had weighed her down.
Those childhood summers had felt endless, filled with laughter that came easily, not the carefully rationed kind she’d grown used to as an adult.
This morning had that same quality—a bubble of time outside of real life, where happiness wasn’t something you earned through sacrifice but simply existed, available for the taking.
The realization brought a bittersweet ache with it. This wasn’t her life. These weren’t her children. And Matt... Matt wasn’t hers either, no matter how right it felt to move around a kitchen with him, to share these small domestic moments.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Matt glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should probably head out. Restaurant won’t open itself.”
The spell wobbled, reality intruding on their makeshift morning idyll. The girls immediately protested, but Matt was firm, though gentle.
“Thank you for allowing me the honor of helping build a house for the fairies,” he told them with perfect seriousness. “I hope I can help some more next time I visit.”
Next time. The words echoed in her mind as Tessa rose to walk him out, unable to stop herself from prolonging their time together even by these few minutes.
At the gate that separated Rachel’s front yard from the sidewalk, they paused. Matt turned to face her, and they stood a fraction too close, their bodies doing that strange synchronized sway, as if some invisible force were pulling them toward each other even as they both tried to fight it.
Tessa felt a shy smile tugging at her lips before she could stop it.
It was ridiculous how this man affected her after just one day.
She stood there, caught in his gaze as Matt’s eyes traced her features with such intensity that she felt he was committing every detail to memory—the curve of her cheek, the shape of her mouth, the way the morning light caught in her hair.
For a heartbeat, she thought he might lean down, might close that small distance between them. Her breath caught in her throat.
Instead, Matt took a deliberate step backward, his hands sliding into his pockets as if to keep them from reaching for her.
“I’ll see you at the restaurant,” he said, his voice deeper than before. “Noon shift, right?”
“Right,” Tessa managed, her own voice sounding strange to her ears. “I’ll be there.”
“I know you will.” He nodded once, turned, and walked away toward town.
Tessa remained at the gate, watching his retreating back, the breadth of his shoulders, the confident stride.
She stayed there longer than necessary, until he disappeared around the corner, taking with him that strange magnetism that had kept her anchored in place.
When she finally turned back toward the house, she found Rachel watching her from the porch, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Tessa shook her head firmly as she approached, silently communicating, don’t even start as she climbed the steps.
Rachel’s smile only widened, and suddenly they were both laughing—quiet, conspiratorial laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, releasing the tension Tessa hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. It felt like relief, like breathing freely after holding her breath for too long.
“What’s funny?” Aria demanded, appearing at the screen door with Lucy close behind her. “Are you laughing at our fairy house?”
“No, sweetie,” Rachel assured her daughter. “Your fairy house is perfect.”
“Then why are you laughing?” Lucy asked, her small face scrunched with suspicion.
Longing stirred within her. How could she possibly explain to these children that she was laughing because she was already counting the hours until she would see Matt again?
“Grown-up stuff,” Tessa said, ruffling Lucy’s hair as she passed. “Nothing important.”
But it was important. That was the problem. Somewhere between yesterday’s lunch shift and this morning’s fairy house construction, Matt Thornberg had become important. And Tessa didn’t do important—not with men, not with places. Important meant vulnerable. Important meant the potential for loss.
Yet as she helped Rachel back inside and started clearing away the breakfast dishes, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering forward to noon, to the restaurant, to dark eyes that seemed to see straight through her carefully constructed defenses.
Defenses that were beginning to crumble.