#violetam.

Things have been different. He’s not sure of anything beyond that. They’re just different, in a new place.  She had finally said she believed him, that he didn’t cheat on her. But that didn’t mean they were back together. No, because they had a lot ot work on, first.  But they could do this, get together for lunch and Christmas shopping. It was easy, and right now the both of them needed easy.

Once she give’s confirmation, Matthieu sets out for the day. A three piece suit in navy blue, and a royal purple shirt, he rolls the eyeliner on, adjusts their hair, and heads onto the lift, letting it carry them down to the garage.  He decides on the corvette, and after hopping in, his first step is Soliel. A quick check in, talking to his sous chef, and going over the menu for the evening, he doesn’t stay long.

The hospital used to know him. He remembers popping in just to bring her a home cooked lunch, or to take her out to one. Moments just to make her feel special.  Now is different in that this isn’t a date, not r eally. It’s just two co-parents, two people who loved each other but weren’t together, going out for lunch. There aren’t flowers in his hands this time, as he walks in and greets the familiar face of the security guard and the woman at the desk.  “Hello,” they say in that all too charming way they always do, that sits on the edge of flirtation.  He asks for Violeta to be paged, and he waits, thinking about the moments he’s done this over the past four years. 

It still feels the exact same.

Except everything is also wildly different.  Strange. 

Matthieu won’t lie to themself and say that the minute Violeta walked in he had been sort of tracking her movements. She looked unbelievable, always beautiful of course, but tonight there’s something about her., the low cut, the slit, the backlessness of her dress. He can’t help but think that it’s all a show for him, after what happened at the MET Gala and their subsequent conversation. A tease of possibility maybe, or even just a tease. If it’s meant for them though, they’re going to enjoy it.  He’d be a fool not to. 

“No, darling, just stunned,” he finally comments when she confronts them.  He eyes the slit of her dress, and thinks about pushing it open, about sliding his hand inside of it, but no, not again, not tonight, when both of them have been drinking again. He refuses to make her another drunken hook up. “you look absolutely ravishing,” and maybe that’s why he had blanched, when she had approached him, such a revealing costume for her.  But he loves to see it, although the game she is playing is incredibly dangerous for both of them.

Everything is hustling and bustling, music is thumping, people are eating, drinking, and generally enjoying themselves. The dining room is packed, as is the party room. It’s as it should be.  Matthieu takes a moment to take it all in, the people, the party itself and, the success over the past year. 2021 has been kind to them, at least, professionally.  

Personally, things are kind of falling apart. He misses his wife, who he’s seperated from, he has weird feelings for his assistant that he doesn’t know what to do with, not to mention all of the other little things that are just a mess. But Matthieu Dixon is adaptable and solid.  Going into the new year they will figure it out. 

They’re at the bar getting a whiskey when she walks in, fashionably late and they assume it’s something to do with the twins, and the babysitter, but since he’s already at the bar he orders a French 75 as well, her go to drink.  He walks over to where she’s walking in still, dressed in slinky gold dress that leaves nothing to his imagination, not that he’d need to imagine it anyway. He’s seen it all, many times over. That doesn’t take away from how good she looks, long hair flowing over her shoulders. Hot little body being hugged in a short dress. His adams apple wavers in his throat as he swallows, trying not to make his attraction obvious, but ultmately failing.

“You look ravishing,” they tell her by way of greeting, offering up the champagne flute and leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. They can still do that, he thinks, if Christmas was any indication.  “Did they go to sleep easy or were they menaces? I’m sorry I couldn;t be there. I had to get things in order here.”

send  😢  for  a  sad  text  from  my  muse

send  😢  for  a  sad  text  from  my  muse

TEXT  ⇄ VIOLETA

Mattie: the kids asked when you were going to come back home. 

Mattie: I don’t have the heart to tell them that you’re not. 

where →her apartment

Exhaustion settles into their bones.   Matthieu Dixon remembers a time when they spent nights that turned into days partying.  People in their bed until the break of dawn.  All kinds of crazy things. But two four years olds running around their penthouse for a week, two jobs and a hefty load of meetings exhausts him now, at 40 years old. They think that somewhere along the line they have softened. But they dont’ dare admit it. Not out loud, at least. 

Mattie steps out of the car in Hell’s Kitchen, in front of Violeta’s place, and after adjusted the lines of their suit, they get both of the girls out of the car, smiling to himself as the two jump in excitement over seeing their mother soon. He’s glad at least, that the divorce hasn’t caused much strife for the girls.  Though they wish it hadn’t caused any at all. 

It’s a song and dance to get them up to the door, but soon Violeta’s face is on the other side as she pulls it open and Mattie is about to say goodbye to the girls for the week when he hears a cry of “But daddy” in that weird mix of two accents the girls have, coming from Elodie. “I want to show you my art wall! It’s so pretty! You’ll love it!” Then Eliza is chiming in that he must, and they smile sheepishly at their ex wife, shrugging a shoulder 

“If you don’t mind?” they ask.