Matty had always prided himself in his patience. He liked to assume the best in people, despite previous heartaches or disappointments, and to allow everybody the grace that he hoped they’d extend to him in return. As Chess had apologised and floundered her way through their text exchange, recounting times that she’d been late or unavailable, chastising herself for unavoidable circumstances, he’d felt awful. He’d never wanted her to place so much pressure on herself, certainly not for somebody such as him. He understood all too well how busy life could get and he carried no frustration towards the lovely girl, and he could only hope that she believed his assertions that he was perfectly content to wait for her.
He knew that a lot of others wouldn’t be quite so forgiving or understanding, his recent disagreement with Maggie a fine example of the fact, but he didn’t mind. If trusting the people he adored was seen as a flaw or sign of weakness, then so be it.
He was well on his way into the studio that breeze Friday morning, the promise of a conversation – an explanation, even – fueling him for the day ahead. He had no intention to demand answers from Chess on what was keeping her schedule so busy, but it was a comfort to know that she was willing to share, and that she wanted to do it face to face. It was nearing lunch time as his phone buzzed in his pocket, a call coming through from the woman in question. He smiled down at the sight of her pretty smile lighting up his caller ID, her contact photo set to an image of her with her head tipped back laughing, a snippet of Henry’s equally entertained body barely in frame. He couldn’t quite recall anymore what the two best friends had been laughing at, only that he’d caught the moment and looked back on it fondly.
“Good morning, darling,” Matty greeted her as he waited on his uber, a warm smile on his face.
The voice that responded was unfamiliar, however, and Matty frowned. Had somebody stolen Chessy’s phone? He narrowed his eyes; brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to make sense of the words that were pouring through the receiver.
“Mr Howard, is it? This is Miss Smith, Hazel’s teacher. I’m really sorry to be calling you like this and from your wife’s phone, but sweet little Hazel nabbed it this morning and, well, that’s beside the point,” the woman on the other end was saying.
The words made sense, in a way, and yet every last sentence fell on deaf ears. It was all foreign to Matty, the conversation he seemed to have inadvertently been dragged into. The woman’s voice went on, uttering something about how Hazel had a bit of a tummy bug and needed collecting from school, but they had no way of reaching her mother and saw his number listed under Chessy's favourites. Matty’s head was reeling. Had Joey’s niece gotten a hold of Chess’ phone? Had the teacher tried and failed to contact Joey or the girl’s mother and settled on him as a last resort? He had no idea, but his heart ached for the little girl, sitting at school and feeling so poorly.
The second his taxi arrived, Matty apologised to the driver and requested a new location, heading directly to the school instead of the studio. He’d practically stumbled out of the car upon arrival, requesting that the driver wait for him as he rushed to the front office in a daze.
“Mr Howard? Oh, thank God,” a pretty blonde cried out as she greeted him in the entry way. She must be the Miss Smith he’d spoken to on the phone.
Matty shook his head, waving off the false name, but words seemed to fail him as his gaze landed on the little girl sat in the waiting room. She was white as a sheet, all the colour sapped from her cheeks as her arms remained wrapped around her belly. Her teacher, Miss Smith, explained that she had a slight tummy bug and that they’d been advised to send her home.
“As much as we adore having little Miss Howard, we’re not eager for her to be stuck in a classroom all day feeling awful when she could be at home resting,” she pushed on, but Matty hardly heard her.
Miss Howard. That couldn’t be right, could it? She was the little girl he’d seen all over Joey’s instagram, her niece. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening, but he simply pushed forward, dropping into a crouch in front of young Hazel June.
“Hello, lovely. My name’s Matty and I’m going to take you to see your mummy, is that alright? She’s going to help you feel so much better,” he promised the little girl, glancing up at her teacher for any signs of approval.
Once they’d gotten all formalities out of the way, he’d thanked Miss Smith and scooped Hazel June up into his arms, the little girl immediately comfortable as her head dropped to his shoulder, arms tight around his neck as he carried her out to his waiting taxi. The drive to the studio felt expansive, his mind in a whirl as the sweet young girl clung to him, sporadically offering up disgruntled noises or the occasional question of when will I get to see mummy? There’d been no mistaking the Australian lilt to her accent, so much like the one Chess had. It was bewildering to him, to think that Maggie might have been right all along, that Chess could have been lying about something so huge.
The second they arrived at their destination, Matty slid a few extra twenties into the driver’s palm and cradled Hazel June to his chest, sidestepping his way into the studio as he nudged doors open with his hip. He scanned the room for Chess before his gaze finally landed on her tucked away between clothing racks, the little girl in his arms now dozing off against his shoulder.
Carefully, he ambled towards her, ignoring the bewildered stares he was getting from models and photographers alike. He came to a stop behind Chess, whose back was still turned to him, unaware of his arrival.
“In about 15 seconds time you’ll turn around and see that I have quite the remarkable gift for you,” he deadpanned, voice low so as not to wake the sleeping child.
