Matt & Doe | Complete

Chapter 6

Matt's POV

It was only a few days in, and I had already found a nemesis.

Jackley Bentley.

The four-year-old was hostile towards me, glaring at my movements around the corners and latching onto my jeans whenever he got the chance. If I ever tried to chase him away, Jack would scream and cover his ears, and Miss Hilga would strangely eye me until he stopped.

Doe had said it was because he found me likable, but I tried hard not to believe it. I had no time to run around with a preschooler. That day of all, I was on a special task away from the 'home base'. Doe and I were going to meet with our first collaborators for the improvement project. Ideally, it would be interesting.

"You can put it right there, man."

After a long and comfortable drive, we finally arrived at Our Delights Bakery. I carefully placed my folder on a small side table at the entrance of the enormous place. Johnson, a guy who greeted us, invited us to wait on the head baker, Lillian Jones. Johnson spoke with a whistle and exaggerated facial expressions.

That was weird.

I saw Doe flinch several times at his wide gesticulations, which were priceless.

"Ready?" I dipped my head at her when we were finally alone on a double sofa.

Doe gave me a soft smile and said, "Yeah, of course."

My former classmate was gorgeous, and I immediately resigned to calling her Roseline for the day.

"Look at all this," Doe pointed at the designs on the wall, describing them in detail as if I were half-blind.

Oh, wait.

I dazed out, nodding at her excited voice and looking into the pristine setting. She was right it wasn't too shabby. The walls were a classy pink and gold theme with a humble chandelier dipping from the beige ceiling. The counters showcased tasty and elaborate desserts as the floors reflected light, according to Doe.

On my own, I wouldn't have appreciated any of it like that. I was too focused on the task at hand.

My eyes lingered to the enormous chocolate fountain that stood in glory on the opposite side of the room. There was also a door directly in my line of sight labelled 'making magic' in a curly, feminine font. That, I assumed, was the kitchen.

"These people are ri -"

"Stop it, Matthew."

The wait was long. It gave Doe enough time to reach over and straighten my tie, as she commented on the classical music that polluted the air.

"It is annoying," I agreed, smoothing out my hair.

Suddenly, one of the doors swung open. Johnson and a lady I presumed was Lillian entered.

Doe and I stood, and the four of us exchanged formalities and usual greetings.

Lillian Jones was older than I had thought. She was forty-something, assumedly, with faded blonde hair and visible grey strands. Her lips were pursed and plump, and her face was decorated in premature wrinkles.

"It's so good to meet you, Matthew," she shook my hand last and smiled.

"It's my pleasure."

Lillian and Johnson led us into another room.

I noticed Doe fiddling with her skirt multiple times, whether to inch it down or to feel the zipper in the back.

We stepped into the meeting room, and to no surprise, more of the chalky pink was spread like a damn disease.