Chapter97Two in Paris
Madison looked at the childish figure before her, resigned herself to the situation, and sat down. Unsure if he had eaten, the receptionist had mentioned that he'd been sitting there for quite a while.
She pulled out some freshly bought bread and offered, "Want to have some bread?"
Matthew, still clutching her hand as if fearing she'd vanish if he blinked, nodded slightly, his hunger apparent after seemingly not having eaten all day.
Considering it unseemly to eat in the hotel lobby, Madison suggested, "Shall we go eat in the room?"
Matthew had no objections and obediently followed Madison to the elevator, which took them to her booked room.
Watching him sit on the small couch in the room, devouring the bread meant for her late-night snack, Madison worried he might choke and handed him a bottle of water.
Matthew looked up at her deeply before taking the bottle. Madison, feeling a bit awkward, turned to gaze out the window at the Eiffel Tower.
After eating, Matthew cleaned up the table while Madison avoided watching him. He then went downstairs to the receptionist to get a room next to Madison's.
Only when she heard the door close did Madison turn around, thinking that Matthew had left. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself mentally for the breakfast meeting at the competition hotel the next day.
As she was about to shower, there was a knock on the door.
Madison opened it to see Matthew standing there. She had thought he was gone, not really understanding why he had shown up in the first place.
"I got a room next door, just in case you need anything," Matthew said earnestly.
Madison doubted she'd need his help, having prepared well in advance.
There was a moment of silence between them at the doorway. In the end, Madison nodded slightly, then closed the door.
After her shower, Madison lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep – whether it was the change of location or the knowledge that Matthew was just next door.
In the room adjacently, Matthew was equally restless.
Separated by a wall, both lay in their own beds, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, succumbing to insomnia until the deep hours of the night.
Early the following day, Madison got out of bed well before dawn. She hadn't caught much sleep, evident from her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. A touch of makeup did wonders, giving her a much-needed boost of vitality.
She was all set to grab some breakfast when she unexpectedly found the door to the neighboring room open as well.
"What a coincidence, up with the birds too, huh?" She exchanged small talk.
Today, Matthew wore a beige trench coat, while by some twist of fate, Madison was dressed in a matching shade, implying an unplanned couple's outfit.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Madison greeted with a slight awkwardness, "Morning."
Matthew, also a victim of a restless night, furrowed his brows and replied with a raspy voice, "Morning."
"Um, I'm heading out for breakfast. I'll see you later."
She threw her purse over her shoulder, intending to pass Matthew and catch the elevator.
To her surprise, he followed close behind. "I'm off to get breakfast too."
Assuming he would dine at the hotel while she had plans to explore local spots, Madison didn't pay him much mind. When the elevator arrived, she stepped in without hesitation, and Matthew silently followed suit. Their muteness marked the elevator's descent.
Upon exiting the elevator, Madison made a beeline for the hotel's exit, but noticing that her follower was still in tow, she couldn't help but pause and turn around.
"Don't you have your own business? Why are you following me?"
Matthew came to an abrupt stop. He didn't take offense to her slightly irritated tone. Instead, he earnestly explained, "I'd like to have breakfast with you."
Madison eyed Matthew, attempting to decipher his intentions, but his expression was frustratingly impassive, only marred by a hint of fatigue.
With a resigned sigh, she turned and continued on her way, strolling into an old-school diner she came across on the street.
Matthew trailed in and took the seat across from her.
Madison flipped through the menu filled with American breakfast options. She ordered a coffee and a pudding, then slid the menu across to Matthew.
He made the same choice. Coffee and a pudding.
After waiting ten minutes, the food arrived. While Madison checked her phone for directions to a race, Matthew sat across from her, quietly observing.
Once the pudding was served, Madison put her phone down. The first bite was surprisingly delightful, reminiscent of the food she had back home.
After finishing their meal and exiting the diner, Madison eyed the man, who still seemed inclined to continue following her.
Matthew, who was used to getting his way, was at his wit's end. Back in the day, he would never put up with anyone keeping him waiting, not even for a minute, without giving them a piece of his mind.
With a sigh, Madison said, "You don't need to follow me around, really. I've got things to do later, and you should get going with your own stuff."
Fearing he'd truly get on Madison's nerves if he stuck around any longer, Matthew reluctantly agreed to head back to the hotel.
Madison watched him walk away before hailing a taxi to scout out the competition venue.
As she stepped out of the cab, she realized the venue—a renowned five-star hotel in Paris—was just 20 minutes from where she was staying. The entrance was adorned with promotional banners, and contestants were already scouting the area. The judges had been preparing for the past couple of days and were settled in the hotel.
Madison found the banquet hall for the competition. Inside, the crew was still setting up the stage. After a quick look, she left, heading to an art gallery for inspiration.
The gallery was a bit of a trip from the hotel, so she took a taxi there.
She ended up at the Orangery, a quaint gallery recommended by folks online. It is famous for its impressive collection of Impressionist artworks, including eight large-scale masterpieces by Monet, "Water Lilies" being the gallery's crown jewel.
The gallery was quiet, allowing Madison to sit on the floor and immerse herself in the grand paintings, soaking in the subtle seasonal shifts in Monet's garden.
After half an hour of quiet reflection, she rose and walked to another part of the gallery, and her gaze lowered as if feeling something. When she looked up, she saw Matthew, the man she had rejected earlier that morning. He stood by a painting, his morning coat still on, his eyes meeting hers.
When did he arrive?
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