Strains

Plan B apparently involves me hiding out in the bushes of the most expensive hotel on the boardwalk. It hangs above the water’s edge, sports a top-tier spa, and a Michelin-star restaurant.

I watch as Matthew casually walks up to the only valet on duty, follows him to the side of the building then comes back wearing the valet’s uniform.

I am not liking Plan B so far.

A black imported car pulls up, and Matthew hurries to let out its passengers. A young woman with obviously expensive taste and an older man who reeks of money. The trunk opens, and the man who had been driving begins unloading a bag, which Matthew wheels away from him.

The young woman suddenly falls to the ground, and Matthew and the other man rush to sit her back in the car. Matthew and the man speak for a few minutes before the man hands Matthew his sports coat, returns to the car, and drives away.

Matthew comes up to me, wheeling the luggage behind him after the original valet returns to his post. He shrugs on the older man’s jacket.

“What’s with that look?”

“Did you just mug three people?”

He hesitates at buttoning the jacket.

“No need to make it sound worse than what it is.”

I motion to the jacket and the luggage. “What else am I supposed to call it? Definitely not heroic.”

He sighs deeply and decides to let the jacket stay open.

“Look. The valet got a well-deserved break, and as for this. This jacket, and this wallet,” he says, pulling it from the pocket, “belong to a man who had planned a romantic getaway with his mistress. But he just had an epiphany and remembered just how lovely his wife is and that he might have left some incriminating evidence where she might find it. He’s going home to make amends. He made the reservations under his business account, so unless he wants to be found out, he won’t be canceling them.”

I point to the luggage.

“All insured.”

“That’s still stealing.”

He rolls his eyes and hooks my arm into his.

“We can debate the morality of stealing from corporations some other time. Come on, the dinner reservation is in an hour and we have to check in.”

***

Matthew is able to check us in without any problem and we are given a room key to a suite on the top floor.

I feel so out of place here, with the gold-finished details and pristine white walls. Even the buttons in the glass elevator scream an opulence I would never have been able to afford.

The elevator lets us out in a hallway lit by crystal sconces and decorated with pots of roses. Our room is at the end of the hall and behind a set of double doors.

I’ve never stayed in a room that needed two doors before.

Matthew struggles to find where to place the card key, so I take it from his hands and open the doors. I forgot this is a world totally alien to him. He hasn’t been Topside in over a hundred years. I hate to give him credit but he’s acting less frazzled by the whole thing than I am.

The suite is beyond gorgeous with a full wet bar, seating area, and separate bedroom. The curtains are drawn, providing a completely unobstructed view of the ocean and the stars beyond it.

Matthew is already in the bedroom, and when I walk in behind him, he’s busy unzipping the suitcase. I want to stop him, but before I do, he has the case spread open on the bed.

“You should change,” he says.

I look down into the suitcase.

“I am not wearing someone else’s clothes.”

“Why not? I am.” He rummages through the belongings. “Look, this dress is brand new. You can’t eat dinner in a place like this dressed like that. Come on, it’ll take your mind off things.”

I cross my arms. How could he even say that?

“You think dinner is going to make me get over the fact that my parents are dead?” I throw my hands up. “Or the fact that you’ve been poisoning my food for the last month?”

“I didn’t say that. I said it would be a distraction. And I thought you would enjoy eating whatever you liked for once, without my special additives.”

“It’s not a joke, Matthew!”

He walks closer to me, the dress still in his hands.

“I know. It’s just if we focus on all the bad that’s happened thus far, neither of us is going to be able to move forward. This isn’t Near Elysium where you can just ditch a few classes, take a punishment, and do the same thing every day with a full stomach and a roof over your head. Living is so much more complicated than being dead. You’ve noticed that, right?”

I hate that I can never be upset without him making me feel stupid about it.

“You can be upset, and I won’t blame you. We don’t have to agree on if what I did was justified. You’re hurt, and for that I apologize.”

I look at him and then the dress. It would be a lot easier to stay here and pout if the restaurant hadn’t been on my bucket list. I take the dress from his hands and march into the bathroom to get changed.

When I come out, he’s wearing shoes and a pair of slacks that are definitely not his. He looks up at me as he adjusts the tie around his neck.

“I’m happy to see that everything fits. And you fill that dress out much better than the girl who was meant to wear it.”

“Seriously, you had to go there?”

He smirks and goes back to adjusting the tie.

“I found a pair of shoes in the suitcase. Another gift from Mr. Moneybags. I saw that girl’s feet, there’s no way she would have been able to squeeze into them. They might fit you though.”

“Don’t you feel the least bit bad about what we’re doing?”

“If you want to sleep in the sand, be my guest. But trust me, if you saw what was in that man’s mind, you would feel the same. Now put on the shoes.”

I decide it’s best that I let this go. At least for tonight. I open the shoe box from the suitcase and try them on.

And, again, he’s right. I’m not a fan of heels, but I can bare them for a chance to eat a fancy dinner.

“I find it deeply disturbing how in tune you are with my clothing and shoe sizes.”

“Noted. I won’t be buying you anything anymore.” His fingers freeze at his throat, and then he undoes the tie. “Maybe I’ll just skip the tie tonight.”

I walk up to him and begin it for him again.

“If I have to wear heels, then you have to wear a tie.”

As my hands begin to move the silk fabric, I realize how weird this whole day has been. Everything I thought I knew turned out to be wrong.

My parents died before I did.

I’m not 21, I’m 23.

Matthew was the one who found me.

I have a strain.

And the person who kept me from knowing all these things was standing right in front of me. But as my hands straighten the knot at his neck, I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be. In fact, I’m grateful that he’s still here with me, I just wish I knew why.

Matthew opens his mouth, then snaps it shut.

“Something wrong?” I ask, finishing the knot.

“I was going to mention something, but it doesn’t matter now. We’re not at the academy anymore,” he says slowly.

I shake my head in agreement. He holds his elbow out for me and I slide my hand into it. The walk to dinner is different than all of the other walks we’ve taken before.

It’s odd to be on the receiving end of Matthew’s chivalry. He opens every door for me. Gives me his hand as we go up the steps and pulls my chair out for me to sit in. The table is the best in the house, positioned against the window, with a perfect view of the ocean and full moon. I ease back into the red velvet chair.

A waiter comes by to explain the two seven-course menus. One is a seasonal set, showcasing the newly harvested cool-weather vegetables, and the other is one that spotlights local delicacies from the sea.

“Please let me know if you have any further questions,” the waiter says, mostly to my benefit than Matthew’s. There are only two options, but I am completely overwhelmed.

“When you get the chance, could you bring us a glass of the house wine? I’ll have the red, and white for the lady.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll just need to see your ID cards.”

Matthew looks up from his menu and stares at the waiter.

“No, I don’t think you will.”

The waiter nods and walks away from the table. He returns a few minutes later with the glasses of wine. We order, with me choosing the seafood option and Matthew taking the other.

Matthew takes the red wine glass in his hands and swirls it around.

“I’ve never seen you use your strain so much before.”

He shrugs. “Living people take less effort to affect. And these new Topsiders are even easier than the ones I’ve met before. Usually, it takes at least a hand touch for me to make someone pass out, but that girl went down with only half a glance. If it were this easy in Near Elysium I wouldn’t have had to learn to fight.”

My mouth drops. I never knew the extent of Matthew’s strain before, I thought he was limited to just listening in on thoughts and messing with memories. This is a whole new level of scary.

“It’s a different world out here, and I’m at a severe disadvantage.”

He’s got me there. Even I hadn’t considered how screwed I’d be without any kind of identification.

The server comes with our appetizers. Matthew gets some kind of stuffed pastry and I get the best scallop I’ve ever had.

“Here, try mine,” Matthew says, holding out his spoon. My curiosity prevents me from declining so I let him tilt the spoon to my lips.

“Wow, I can’t believe that’s just a mushroom!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he says.

I haven’t had a meal like this in my entire life. The plates are small, but every single one is like a precious note in a delicate symphony. A song that seems to stitch together my tattered soul.

I thought I would never get the chance to eat here, especially dead. Even more unimaginable was that I’d have this experience with the man sitting across from me. Screw that bastard-rich guy for taking some random chick here instead of his wife. I can’t even be upset with Matthew anymore.

Moral or not, I am benefitting greatly from his questionable actions. But maybe that was his plan from the beginning.

He offers me a bite of his grass-fed steak.

“Alright, Matthew, what’s your angle?”

He flinches when I say his name.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

He sets his fork down.

“I just wanted to have a nice dinner, one that I had hoped would make it easier for you to forgive me.”

I didn’t expect him to be so straightforward about it.

“It’s going to take a lot more than food for me to forgive you. I need time, not you faking nice.”

“I’m not faking. I just want to make you happy. Especially after I had made you so miserable in Near Elysium that you’d bring us here.”

I can’t tell if I believe him or if I’m high from the rich food. He just looks so genuine. It’s the same face he had when Caiden revealed the truth to me back in the cellar. His eyes go vacant and he goes back to picking at his food.

“It wasn’t just you. In fact, things were going okay before…you know.” I say, hoping he can fill in the blank without me having to say it.

He nods slowly.

“Even that was my fault. If I had grilled Theron harder, maybe I would’ve been able to hear what he planned.”

“The council still wouldn’t have done anything anyway.”

He throws his hands up. “Yeah because of the book I wrote.”

He sits back and his shoulders sag against the chair. I hadn’t seen him after the council had made their ruling on Friday, so this was the first time we were getting to talk about it. I thought he was upset with me, or maybe even Theron like I was, but he seemed frustrated with himself more than anyone else.

Matthew did a lot of things he shouldn’t have, but it doesn’t look like it has been easy for him. And it shouldn’t be. I wouldn’t approve of him doing those things again, but I feel like being stuck here in Topside was punishment enough. The last thing he needs to do is beat himself up about a situation he had no control over.

The servers come by with dessert and set the plates in front of us. I wait for them to leave before I begin talking again.

“I don’t blame you for what happened. Theron did what he did because he’s a dick. And the council let him get away with it because they’re dicks too and don’t want to recognize they graduated a predatory piece of garbage. You just made a standard they couldn’t live up to.”

He looks up from his baked pear and offers me a gentle smile. Then his gaze drifts downward.

“That bastard,” he whispers through a clenched smile.

I finally look down at my plate. It’s a shortbread cookie in a blueberry puree. In the center of the plate is a carefully crafted swirl of whipped cream.

And on top of that is a diamond ring.

My hand goes straight to my mouth. I thought Matthew said this guy was married. I glance over to the waitstaff and am about to flag someone over to fix the mistake when I notice something.

The entire restaurant is looking at our table.

Matthew stands and plucks the ring from the whipped cream. Oh no. He isn’t. Not really.

He drops to one knee beside me.

Oh my god, he is.

“Play along,” he whispers. He takes my left hand away from my face.

“We haven’t known each other long, but I feel like in the little time we’ve spent together, I’ve seen your soul and who you are. Smart, witty, and so much stronger than I am. That’s why I want to be honest and bare my soul to you. I know I haven’t always been the best, but I promise you, if you choose to spend this life with me, I will give you everything within my power to give. I’ll make every day as painless as it can be. I just want to make sure you’re happy, forever. So, will you spend eternity with me?”

His words hit me square in the chest, and even though it’s all a charade, I can’t help but shed a tear. Our restaurant audience gives Matthew’s speech a gentle ‘aww’ and I feel their eyes dart to me.

They’re all waiting for my answer.

It’s so fake. It’s all fake, so why am I struggling to just say yes and get it over with? I can’t tell him no, not without blowing our cover. But those words, there’s weight in the words he spoke to me.

“Princess?”

The nickname is another shot to my chest, and I can’t help but hide my head in my hands. I just need to get back to our room and away from all the prying eyes.

So I nod yes.

The restaurant erupts into subdued applause. Matthew slides the ring onto my finger and wraps his arms around me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my ear.

I glance down at my plate. The cookie was starting to crumble where it met the blueberry sauce, looking just like the sand meeting the sea outside. Each bite is tasty, but the dish shines where the two come together. Like fate is trying to tell me something.