a grin. “In fact, we have National Ice Cream Day. Three times a year.”
“Amazing!” I say admiringly. “We need to introduce that custom into Ava-land. Wait, I’ll pay,” I add more seriously, as he reaches for his wallet. “You got dinner.”
I hand over the money—then we head to a nearby wall and perch there, licking our ice creams and watching people as they stroll by. Music is coming from a nearby bar, and there are gales of laughter from the busker’s audience. The sky above us is a deepening blue, and there are twinkling lights all around the piazza. It’s an enchanting sight.
“Speaking of money,” says Matt presently. “Something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Ava—did you ever get the money for that piece of freelance work?”
It takes me a moment to work out what he’s talking about, but then I recall. A few months ago I wrote a leaflet for a nearby independent pharmacy—then weeks later I realized I hadn’t invoiced them. Matt was with me when I sent the invoice out, and I guess he’s remembered, all this time.
“No,” I say vaguely. “But it’s fine. It hasn’t been that long.”
“Well over a month,” he contradicts me. “And it was long overdue, anyway. You should chase them.”
“I will.” I shrug. “I’m sure they’re on it.”
“Threaten them, if necessary,” adds Matt.
“Threaten them?” I give a shocked laugh. “We’re not all karate warriors!”
“You don’t have to be a warrior, but you’ve done some good work for them and they should pay you; it’s only right. I think you’re sometimes too—” Matt cuts himself off, shaking his head. “No. Sorry. Wrong time, wrong place. Forget it.”
“Forget what?” I say, my curiosity piqued. “What do you think? Say it.”
“Doesn’t matter. We should just enjoy the evening.” He spreads his arms around. “It’s beautiful here. I really enjoyed our dinner.”
Does he think I can just sit here now and not hear the end of what he started?
“Matt, too late!” I retort. “I want to know! Whatever you were going to say, say it, or I’ll keep bugging you.”
There’s silence, punctuated by another roar of noise from the piazza. I turn my head to see that the busker is now having some kind of confrontation with a policeman, while the crowd jeers. Oops. Wonder what happened there.
Then Matt exhales, drawing my attention back to him.
“You were honest with me a moment ago, Ava. Now can I be honest with you?” He takes my hand in his as though to soften his words. “Sometimes—just sometimes—you’re overoptimistic about people. And situations.”
I gape at him. Overoptimistic? How is that even a thing?
“Optimistic is good,” I retort. “Everyone knows that!”
“Nothing too extreme is good,” counters Matt. “I love that you see the best in everything, Ava. I do. It’s one of your most lovable qualities. But everyone needs to deal with reality sometimes. Otherwise…they risk getting hurt.”
I feel a prickle of resentment. I know about reality, thank you. And OK, yes, I sometimes choose not to look too hard in its direction. But sometimes that’s because reality is inferior to what life should be like.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the busker packing up his things with stiff, angry gestures. There. That’s reality, in all its shittiness. It’s not the heady moment of cheering and glory; it’s a policeman bringing you down to earth.
I crunch my ice-cream cone and eye Matt over the top of it.
“Real is hard,” I say, almost as though it’s his fault.
“Yup.” Matt nods.
He doesn’t crack a joke like Russell would. Or tell me I’m stupid. Or try to distract me. He’s prepared to sit patiently with me and my thoughts. He’s good at that, I’ve noticed.
“I’ll chase the invoice,” I say after a while.
Without speaking, Matt tightens his hand round mine, and I feel a swell of something warm inside. Not the white-hot rush of first infatuation, but maybe second love. Solid love. The love that comes of knowing what’s inside as well as outside a person.
I love this man because of who he is and in spite of who he is. All at once. And I hope he loves me the same way.
Nineteen
We decide to hold the party a week later, by which time my enthusiasm for exploring Matt’s life has very slightly dimmed.
I tried to launch myself bravely at golf. But that did not go well. I was actually quite galvanized beforehand. I was prepared to deal with any obnoxious people. I was all set