Chapter Eight – Matt
So, now you build fairy houses? Matt’s bear teased.
I do. And don’t try to tell me you didn’t enjoy every minute of it, Matt replied as he leaned back and inspected the dishes on the counter in front of him.
Oh, I did, his bear said. But I’d have enjoyed it so much more if I’d been the one helping.
Matt chuckled as he picked up the plates. You know, when Aria and Lucy find out about you, they’ll probably put flowers in your fur.
Can’t wait, his bear said.
And when we have children of our own, you can build them the biggest fairy house Bear Creek has ever seen. Matt closed his eyes, imagining the scene, before the sounds of Sunday lunchtime at the Thornberg Restaurant jerked him back to reality.
Soon, building fairy houses with our children will be our reality, his bear assured him.
I hope so, Matt said as he sought Tessa out in the crowded restaurant and locked his senses onto her.
“Are you going to serve that food, or just stare at it?” Alan asked from behind him.
“Order up,” he called, sliding two perfectly plated salmon specials onto the pass.
“I got it.” Jenny swept in to collect them with her usual efficiency. She’d been with the restaurant for years. Today, she worked seamlessly with Tessa; the two of them navigated the dining room as if they’d been a team for years rather than days.
That’s because Tessa belongs here, his bear insisted. She fits. Here in the restaurant. And in our lives.
Matt couldn’t argue with that assessment. From his vantage point, he could see what a natural she was, greeting regulars with warm smiles, anticipating needs before customers voiced them, and handling a minor spill with such quick efficiency that most diners never even noticed it happen.
“Are you daydreaming again?” Alan asked.
“You betcha.” Matt flashed a smile at Alan and got back to work.
When the last plate was cleared and the last customer had departed, along with most of the kitchen staff, Matt emerged from the kitchen to find Tessa wiping down tables with Jenny, her hair escaping its practical ponytail to frame her face in soft tendrils.
She looked tired but content, the kind of bone-deep satisfaction that came from work well done.
His bear perked up immediately. Now. Talk to her now before she leaves.
Matt wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, his mind suddenly blank. What was he going to say? “Good service today,” he said, approaching their table.
Yeah, that will do it, his bear said dryly.
I’m trying, Matt told his bear.
“Smooth as silk,” Jenny agreed, straightening up and placing her hand on the small of her back. “I’m heading out if that’s okay? Got dinner with my sister tonight.”
Matt nodded, grateful for her tactful exit. “Go ahead. Thanks for today.”
As Jenny departed with a knowing smile, Matt turned to Tessa, suddenly aware of the quiet that had settled over the restaurant. Just the two of them now, in this moment before she slipped away to Rachel’s house and her real life.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he said before he could overthink it. “If you have a few minutes.”
Curiosity brightened her eyes. “Sure. What is it?”
“This way.” Matt led her through the kitchen to the back door that opened into the courtyard. “The jewel of the restaurant.” He turned to look at Tessa. “At least that’s how I like to think of it.”
The afternoon sun slanted across the tables that were spread out across the weathered flagstones. The air was fragrant with rosemary and lavender, mint and thyme, and various other herbs and flowers that spilled from various raised beds and terracotta pots.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Tessa breathed, stepping fully into the courtyard. “I’ve only ever seen it when it’s filled with people.”
Matt watched her take it in; the wonder on her face made his chest tighten. “My mother planted it years ago,” he explained, following her into the dappled sunlight. “She’s always had a gift for growing things.”
Tessa moved toward a cluster of lavender, her fingers gently brushing the purple blooms. “She certainly has a gift.”
“She does,” Matt said, emboldened by her obvious delight. “Mom’s birthday is coming up next month, and I was thinking...” He hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. “Would you maybe draw it for her? As a gift from me?”
Tessa turned to face him, surprise evident in her expression. “You want me to draw this for your mother’s birthday?”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Matt said. “The sketches you showed me. I love your work. It’s... remarkable.”
A smile spread across her face, genuine and unguarded. “I’d love to. That’s such a thoughtful gift idea.”
“Really?” Relief washed through him.
“Absolutely. Let me just...” She went back inside and returned with a small notepad and pencil. “I’d like to make some preliminary sketches now, if that’s okay. The light is perfect.”
Now is perfect, his bear agreed fervently.
“Now is great,” Matt said. “Wait here.”
He returned moments later with two glasses and a bottle of wine from the Thornberg vineyard.
“Special occasion?” Tessa asked, accepting the glass he offered.
“Good day,” Matt replied simply. “Good company. And I think the fairies would approve.”
“I believe they would,” Tessa said as she raised her glass to him.
“Let’s sit.” Matt pulled a chair out for her.
“Thank you.”
They sat at a wrought-iron table, and Tessa took a sip of wine. “Oh, this is good. It’s so rich, and the flavors…I don’t think I have words to describe it.”
That’s how I feel about our mate, Matt’s bear said dreamily.
“You don’t have to describe it. Just enjoy it,” Matt told Tessa.
“I am.” Tessa took another sip and then set her glass down on the table. Then she got to work, her pencil moving with quiet confidence across the page.
Matt sipped his wine, watching her hands rather than her face because it felt safer somehow—less likely to reveal the intensity of what he was feeling.
Her fingers moved with precision and care, sometimes pausing as she looked up to study a particular shadow or the way a vine curled across the stones.
Matt found himself fascinated by the process, by the way she seemed to see things differently than he did.
This wasn’t just someone making pretty pictures; this was Tessa’s way of truly seeing the world, of paying attention to details others might miss.
“Do you always carry a sketchbook?” he asked, keeping his tone conversational.
Tessa nodded without looking up, her pencil capturing the curve of a terracotta pot. “Since I was little. It helps me process things, I think. Makes me slow down and really look. Take notice of the world around me.”
“I can understand that,” Matt said. “It’s like how I feel about cooking. Forces you to be present.”
She glanced up at him, a flash of recognition in her eyes. “Exactly. Though lately I’ve been trying to focus my work more specifically.”
“Oh?” Matt kept his voice gentle, careful not to push.
“I’m working on a project,” she said after a moment, her pencil still moving across the page. “A series of visual resources for caregivers. Something that might actually help people who are... struggling.”
Matt watched the subtle tension in her shoulders as she spoke. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said sincerely. “What inspired it?”
Her pencil stilled. She clenched her jaw slightly, then took a deliberate sip of wine before answering. “I cared for my mom for a long time,” she said finally. “Before she died six months ago.”
The simple statement carried the weight of years, of exhaustion and grief, and love. Matt’s bear whined with the need to comfort, to protect.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.
“Thanks,” Tessa replied, her eyes on her sketch. “But it’s not your fault.”
The darkness that passed across her expression made his chest ache. Matt wanted to ask more, wanted to know everything about her mother, about what Tessa had endured, but he recognized the shuttering of her expression, the deliberate shift in her posture.
“Do you use these herbs in the restaurant?” she asked, clearly changing the subject as she gestured toward a bed of fragrant greenery.
Matt nodded, accepting the redirection. “Every day. Nothing beats fresh herbs for flavor.”
He stood, moving toward the raised beds. “That’s rosemary there—we use it in the lamb dishes. And here’s thyme, basil, oregano...” He pointed to each plant in turn.
Tessa joined him, her sketchbook tucked against her side as she leaned in to examine the plants more closely. Matt reached down and gently pinched a sprig of rosemary, holding it up to her.
“Here,” he said. “Smell this.”
She leaned forward, her face close to his hand as she inhaled. “That’s amazing,” she murmured. “So much more intense than dried rosemary.”
Being here, surrounded by the herbs his mother had planted, Matt felt the pressure of the truth like a pulse under his skin.
Tell her, his bear urged. Tell her what she is to us.
Not yet, Matt countered, though the need to do so was growing stronger with each passing minute. This fragile connection between them needed time to strengthen before he could risk the truth.
“I’m done with the sketches for now,” Tessa said. “Would you like to see?”
“Very much,” Matt replied.
She turned the sketchbook toward him, revealing a quick but remarkably detailed impression of the courtyard. With just a few lines, she had captured not just the appearance of the garden but its essence—the sheltered peace of it, the sense of hidden abundance. It was beautiful, just like her.
“Mom will love this,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d intended.
Tessa smiled, the expression reaching her eyes. “I’ll do a proper version, of course. This is just a rough sketch.”
“It’s perfect already,” Matt said simply.
Tessa closed her sketchbook. “This has been lovely. But I should probably get back to Rachel.”
“Of course, and thanks for this.” Matt nodded toward the sketchbook. “It’ll mean a lot to her.”
“You are welcome. It’s the least I can do since you have been so good to Rachel.” Tessa stood up.
“She’s great in the restaurant.” Matt nodded. “And I know how much this job means to her.”
“It means everything,” Tessa said. “It gave her the chance to make a fresh start. And we all deserve a second chance in life.”
“We do,” he said, locking eyes with her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and looked away.
Damn it, he’d said the wrong thing.
Or maybe the right thing, his bear said. You’ve put the idea of a second chance here in Bear Creek in her head. For her, as well as Rachel and her girls.
They walked toward the door, their steps deliberately slow as if both were reluctant to end this intimate moment.
“Thank you for showing me the garden,” Tessa said as she collected her purse and slipped her notepad inside. “And for asking me to sketch it.”
“Thank you for saying yes,” Matt replied. He wanted to say more—so much more—but the words caught in his throat.
His bear shifted restlessly, urging him forward. Just ask her to stay. Ask her to dinner. Ask her anything that keeps her here a little longer.
But Matt held back. Tessa needed to get to Rachel. He knew that. Understood it. Respected it, even as everything in him rebelled against letting her walk away.
“I’ll have a more finished version for you in a few days,” Tessa said, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder.
“I’d like that,” Matt said. “Though I hope you know that even this sketch is already special.”
Her cheeks colored slightly at the compliment, a sight that made his bear rumble with satisfaction. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture he was beginning to recognize as something she did when feeling self-conscious.
“I should go,” she said again, though she made no move toward the door.
No, you shouldn’t, his bear said.
She needs to, Matt replied.
But as he walked her to the door, it took all of his strength not to make her stay.