Matthew's POV
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The photography is a good distraction for me when's she's not around, being able to function becomes my normality. Having things to do and having projects to focus on. Art was great until I realised I could draw her in any one of my pictures. I turn my attention to her now. Head bowed to Henry as she feeds him in the cafe we are in, a plate of food in front of her as she feeds the baby first. French toast and a simple green tea, her hair swept over her shoulders as she gazes upon her baby. It's just as I'd imagined her to be and I sit peacefully sipping coffee and watching her become the best mother in the whole entire universe.
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After the alps, I'll spend some time in London and various parts of England. The prospect of not seeing her for a prolonged amount of time is only making me wish to change her mind. To take her to my new home in England and watch her get lost in the English countryside. How she would make every grey day brighter. How she would colour my world with her words, I’d be able to draw again without the creeping feeling of missing her very bones from my existence.
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“You know Matthew you can eat yours whilst I’m feeding the baby” she smiles looking out at the snow and the traditional looking streets. It’s a piece of art and I’ve thought about drawing her countless times, I know that it sounds terribly dramatic, an artist and his muse. Quite frankly had you of asked me whether I, Matthew James Henderson, would persist endlessly for any woman’s affections no matter the circumstances. No matter the odds, well honestly before I met her I wouldn’t have ever spent this amount of time pursuing a love that is clearly now out of my reach.
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“Mhmm yeah” I say watching her totally distracted. She giggles and her cheeks turn pink, Henry unlatches and she straightens up. Taylor places him in the high chair, he sits and plays with some french toast. Showing me his slice of toast briefly pleased with himself as I stroke his hair back.
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“House in England” she begins taking me by surprise as I begin to dream that this is my moment. She’s chosen me. It’s delusional of course. I look into her eyes and see my future, us wandering through the fields in England cradling our own babies.
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“You wanna see it” I ask her slowly and she nods grasping her French toast. Pulling out my phone I load up the pictures from the estate agents. It’s sizeable, not a Jay sized property but still it’s a Manor House. Sweeping staircase and all, grounds with rose bushes and set in front of a meadow. The stone building is utterly British, with sash windows and a nice fitted kitchen. Fireplaces in every room with mantelpieces.
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“Here” I say showing her pictures of the kitchen and the exterior of the house.
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“It’s so lovely, look at the meadow” she smiles and I just keep my eyes on her dreaming.
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“Matthew stop” she whispers eyes staring into my own as she notices my adoration.
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“I can’t stop” I whisper and she shakes her head grasping my phone between her hands and scrolling through the images of the home. I follow her transitions through the pictures, noticing what pictures she lingers on and imagining her swaying with me in the oak kitchen. Bathing with me in the traditional bathroom. Hugging me in the wildflowers in the sun.
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“Where is it?” She whispers looking up finally from my phone.
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“Sleepy little village called Castle Coombe. Like a fairytale with rivers and cobbled streets, meadows and fields. Bookshops and places to get lost in” I tell her as she smiles watching me.
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“This is so right for you” she smiles slowly finishing off her toast.
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“Maybe, who knows I suppose it’s a commute to London” I laugh slightly knowing that the countryside is far from the bustling London streets.
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“But I won’t be in London all that much, I don’t really know what to expect. There’s an amount of travelling and expenses will be paid.” I say thinking out loud as she watches me sipping her tea.
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“Honestly I cannot wait to track your journeys through your pictures and your art” she smiles appreciatively and I smile warmly, it’s this right here that makes me fall deeper in love with her every time. Rachel or any other woman would ask me questions, they would say something terribly generic like I hope you manage to go somewhere warm and sit on a beach. Not Taylor, she thinks about art, she see’s it all as a personal story. The pieces made in different locations all telling their individual stories. It’s utterly unique and I love her mind. There’s no other person for me in this world and I dream about making her story my own.
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“I’ll be sure to send you updates” I smile instead of declaring undying love for her. I hold onto her hand briefly from over the table and we sit watching Henry devour his French toast. Dipping it in egg and making the most glorious mess he possibly can.
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“You have a very beautiful child” the waitress explains, a large woman in her late fifties wearing a typical pinafore dress. Before I intercept and correct her on him not being my baby, Taylor laughs and Henry squeals excitedly. The older woman coos him and he shakes his little fists around.
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“Maaaouu” he declares eyeing me as Taylor smiles.
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“He likes your name” Taylor laughs once the lady wanders off.
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“I think he may miss you a fair bit” she smiles scooping her hair back and lifting up the changing bag.
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“I’ll miss you both immeasurably” I explain watching her wipe his mouth and hands clean before cleaning up his mess. I help out, lifting him out of the chair and transporting him over to the baby change, the nappies in the bag and a spare knitted suit for me to change him into.
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Henry is so used to me, he garbles my name as I change him delicately making sure that he is clean and dry. Placing the new navy blue knitted jumper suit over his small body and stroking his light blonde hair back.
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“You have an amazing momma” I whisper to him looking down at him as I do the poppers up. He attempts to roll away from me but I giggle keeping him steady on the large wooden changing bay.
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“Maaama” he mutters and I smile down at him.
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“Yes your momma is amazing.” I tell him as he squeals excitedly. Placing him over my shoulder I carry him back through the cafe to Taylor, she looks up at me expectantly having got the pushchair ready. Softly, I strap him into the cushioned seat and zip the fur footmuff around him for warmth.
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Taylor and I stroll around the streets as Henry falls asleep and we recline his seat wrapping him up with a second blanket for warmth. Finding ourselves in the centre of the avenue Michael Croz bridge and eyeing up the many love locks on the bridge railings. Hundreds of padlocks fastened to the railings as a symbol of love. Unending and undying. I gaze out over the icy water and falter before gazing down at her inky blue eyes.
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“Love you” I mumble softly and it’s vulnerable, she will knock me back because she must. Gazing back at the true blue water I wait for her protestations.
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“Matthew” she whispers pulling my face to meet her own.
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“I want you to know that I am so so happy for you, pursuing your dreams and your life.” She smiles wiping her eyes briefly of tears.
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“You’ll always love me and I accept that, I will always hold you in my arms and my heart. And this…” she half gasps looking at the water and the padlocks.
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“You moving forward with your own life, you taking the necessary steps to further your career means everything to me. Perhaps we can think clearly without being so near to one another” she whispers gazing at the padlocks, the symbols of love locked forever.
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“It’s like how I feel about us” I whisper as she follows my eyes.
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“We’re locked, in one place. These locks are a moment in each couples timeline. Whether they’re even still together, or not. These padlocks are a symbols of that time” I tell her, when I look at Taylor I see her in big bear lake with me. The days and nights we spent together in my home by a fire, the woods outside and her curled up.
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“We had a lot on our shoulders as youngsters” she explains and I nod.
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“We had a lot, it meant a lot. And it will never ever be all in vain” I tell her clasping her hand in my own and pushing the pushchair one handed over the bridge. Taylor huddles into me from the cold and I smile looking ahead at the mountains. Glacial plains covered in the fine white dusting of snow as it sprinkles down onto the already deep snow underfoot.
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