Chapter 11
It was barely nine in the morning as I stepped out of the taxi, but the heat from the sun in the cloudless sky was exceptionally sweltering this morning. I'd tucked my dark hair into a bun and thrown on shorts and a sleeveless top to survive the heat of the day; it was nearing the end of summer but today definitely didn't feel like it. And as I stood in front of Mad Goat on this Tuesday morning, I felt a shiver snake its way down my spine despite the balmy morning.
I'd spoken to Matt a few times on the phone after my wedding on Saturday but I hadn't seen him since Friday night at Josie’s. And after my panic attack early Saturday morning when Daredevil literally broke into my apartment and had been acting strange, I'd been fighting the never-ending what if about Matt possibly being the same person.
The thought seemed absolutely ridiculous, but as time wore on, I couldn't shake it from my mind. Matt did have mysterious scars along his chest and back; though I'd yet to ask him what had happened–those alone didn't necessarily mean anything. And he was ridiculously toned for a man who was just a blind lawyer, but he did claim to work out–which also didn't necessarily mean anything other than the fact that he took care of himself.
And then there were the weird quirks about him–always knowing when I lied about anything important, seemingly finding me in crowded rooms with his sightless gaze, being aware of things he probably shouldn't be able to be. Like how he stopped me from stepping in front of a car the other week, or when he knew the flirty waitress was returning to our table in time to kiss my hand and get her to back off. Or how he was so damn good at playing pool despite being unable to see anything.
And it was weird that Daredevil had reappeared in my life just when Matt did after eight months had passed. Granted I had been sitting on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen during his patrolling hours, but I swore it was like he knew I'd be there. And then he found me so easily at Pulse the night I'd gone out with Karen and Marci when he’d walked me home. It was also strange that he’d found my apartment in the Upper West Side despite me never giving him my address, and it was after Matt had been there at my housewarming. Daredevil had never before mentioned tracking people by scent, so I was sure that was a blatant lie he’d told me.
But the weirdest thing was that Matt and Daredevil both seemed so protective of me. Both so invested in how I was doing and listening to my issues, especially when I had problems with Justin. They both despised him. Both were also invested in making sure my business took off–it had been Daredevil who had sent me to Matt and Foggy in the first place so they could help me with my contracts. Had it really just been Matt sending me to himself all along?
Because really–who kisses someone like Daredevil did both times and then accepts I'm not available and then jokes about it after? And…the more I thought about it, the more I began trying to compare the kisses and their mouths since that was all I could ever see of Daredevil. Even their voices started to seem similar the more I thought about it.
Something just didn't add up. Especially since Daredevil was so adamant about kissing me without me knowing who he was. Wouldn't that only matter if it was someone I knew?
So here I was, standing outside of Mad Goat with palms sweating for a reason besides the heat as I studied Matt through the window hunched over his laptop and braille reader, two coffees on the table in front of him. I was hoping to pry for some clues that might tip me off if I was onto something or figure out if I was being as ridiculous as I felt. I mean, Matt was blind, how would he be parkouring around the city like I always saw Daredevil do?
With a deep breath I made my way into Mad Goat, instantly greeted by the cool air conditioner and smell of fresh coffee. My attention focused on Matt in our usual booth in the corner, eyes scrutinizing him closely as I stood just inside the door for a minute. He remained hunched over his braille reader, his head not turning up towards me like it often did. I frowned slightly; maybe I was being ridiculous.
Returning the wave to the barista behind the counter, I made my way past the few occupied tables and over towards Matt. My hand nervously fingered the strap of my backpack as I paused beside him, chewing the inside of my cheek. He continued to work like he wasn't aware of my presence and my eyes narrowed suspiciously now. That was unlike Matt. He could at least sense when someone was standing a couple feet from him.
"Hey, Matty," I greeted, forcing to keep my voice as even as I could.
Matt's head abruptly rose, a smile sliding along his mouth as his dark glasses met my eyes. "Hey, Em," he greeted back. "You just get here?"
"Uh, yeah," I answered, watching as he maneuvered farther into the booth to give me space.
I pulled the backpack from my back and sat down in the seat beside him, setting the bag in my lap. I unzipped it, peering at Matt from the corner of my eye. His left hand searched along the table for a few seconds until his hand came into contact with the iced coffee before he slid it towards me.
"Thanks, Matt," I said, pulling the laptop from my bag.
As my laptop started up, Matt returned quietly to his work. I chewed my lip as I pulled out my cordless mouse and grabbed my glasses, setting them on my face when I’d pulled them from the case.
"What're you working on today?" I asked, dying to break the strange silence.
"Notes for a case this week," he answered me. "And I'm working on an opening statement. Foggy and I have court the rest of the week." His attention briefly returned to me as he smiled again. "So I'm glad you were free this morning because I might not see you until the weekend."
My stomach dropped at that bit of information; normally we still made time on a weeknight to get together. Even before whatever this was.
"Oh, I didn't know you guys had a busy week," I muttered as my attention focused on my laptop.
I pulled up the editing program I used and began a batch process on a wedding I was near finishing. As that began to run, I grabbed my iced coffee and took a drink. Iced honey lavender oat milk latte. I smiled.
"How'd the rest of your weekend go?" he asked casually.
My attention returned to him. I almost told him about the panic attack I’d had Saturday morning and that Justin had called me again Sunday night, but I hesitated. Daredevil told me many times before that he could distinguish a lie based on someone's heartbeat. And Matt somehow always knew when I lied–at least for big things. I continued nervously chewing my lip briefly thinking something over. If I intentionally lied, and he was Daredevil, would it seem like something big enough for him to call me out on?
I sighed; there was only one way to find out.
"It was great, actually," I said, forcing a lighter tone to my voice.
My hands were sweating again; I didn't like doing this, I decided. But I needed to know before it drove me crazy.
Matt glanced at me for a moment, just staring at me behind his dark lenses–red, just like the lenses in Daredevil's helmet. And then he smiled warmly back at me, his hand lowering below the table and resting on my bare thigh.
"That's great, Em," he told me. "No more…texts or anything from Justin?"
"Nope," I forced myself to lie.
I couldn't tell if I imagined the corner of his lip twitch or not, but he continued to smile back at me.
"How–how was your weekend?" I asked, mentally cursing myself for the tremor in my voice.
"It was alright," he told me. "Just a busy week for the firm, unfortunately."
My attention shifted back to my laptop as I nodded. "Yeah, I know how that goes."
Another idea hit me and I pulled up an internet browser as my photos continued their batch process. Typing in The Bulletin’s website address, I quickly began scanning the page for what I was looking for. And thankfully I didn’t have to go far.
There was an article one story down on the site, written by Karen, about how Daredevil had just this weekend taken down a small drug operation that had been giving Hell’s Kitchen a bit of trouble among the youth. Apparently eight men were now in custody thanks to him.
“You ever notice how Karen is always the one at The Bulletin who covers any stories about Daredevil?” I blurted. I saw Matt freeze beside me out of the corner of my eye and I turned, raising a brow at him. “I mean, it’s odd, right? Do you think she knows who he is?”
Matt cleared his throat, still hunched over his laptop and braille reader beside me as he frowned. “I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “I mean he did save her a few times, maybe Ellison just prefers she covers the story? Or she asks for them?” He shrugged. “I thought you were editing photos, anyway?”
“I am,” I assured him. “But my program is running a process so I figured I’d check the news. Been a few days since I have.”
Matt made a noncommittal noise in his throat, his hand running back along the braille reader before him as if he was uninterested in the conversation. I figured I’d try and push just a little more.
“You ever wonder who he is?” I asked him. “Daredevil, I mean.”
“Not really, no,” he answered disinterestedly.
My eyes narrowed at his response. “Really? I mean, he’s this vigilante running around Hell’s Kitchen for years now, helping people–your clients even. And if he sent me to your guys’ firm,” I told him, the only bit of information I knew that Matt was aware of connecting me to Daredevil, “then maybe he’s sent others to you guys? You really aren’t curious who he is?”
Matt turned towards me abruptly, the unexpected cheeky grin on his face catching me off guard. “Why?” he asked. “Do I need to be worried about you having a crush on the masked vigilante running around Hell’s Kitchen punching bad guys?"
My cheeks flushed at his words. "I just…find it odd that Karen writes all the Daredevil articles at The Bulletin…" I mumbled. "And how it's been years and we still don't know who this guy is."
Matt shrugged again, his attention returning to his work. "Guess he's just really good at hiding his identity."
Chewing my thumbnail, I closed out of the internet tab and focused back on my editing program. It had finished its process and I reluctantly decided to drop the investigation of Matt and instead focus back on my work. I figured I should probably just try to enjoy the bit of time I had with him before he was too busy with court all week.
Maybe I'd just have to work on Daredevil a bit more when I saw him next.
The week felt like it dragged on after my Tuesday morning with Matt. Once I had dropped my guard and focused on work, we both fell back into our usual comfortable exchange and everything felt like it was back to normal. We had flirted, cuddled up together a little in the booth when our work was done, and even kissed a few times. It had been nice and I’d found myself missing him all week despite our occasional texts or brief phone calls.
But I was glad it was Friday night as I sat curled up on Karen’s couch next to Marci. Karen was sprawled in the armchair across from us. There was a large pizza open on her coffee table we were making our way through, having already finished off our second bottle of wine. Currently our glasses were filled with the slightly fruity rosé Karen had just opened.
“So you think Foggy is going to propose shortly after you two move in together next month?” I asked Marci before taking a bite of pizza.
A giddy grin spread on Marci’s face as she stared down into her wine glass. “I don’t know…I mean, we haven’t been together for too long yet.”
"A few months officially," I agreed, "but you two have been a thing since before I knew you both. So it's not really that soon to be thinking about it."
“I bet money on him proposing a couple months after you have both settled in,” Karen told her around a bite of pizza. “He’s absolutely in love with you. Has been for years.”
“Mmm, I bet he’s not going to even wait that long,” I disagreed. “Early proposal, moderate engagement length.”
Both women eyed me curiously as I chewed my slice of pizza. I grinned slyly back at the pair.
“I can just tell,” I said. “With the way he looks at you,” I told Marci. “He’s serious. The moving in together so fast says it all. He doesn’t want to risk losing you.”
“Well then,” she said as she reached across the couch and grabbed another slice of pizza, “I hope you bitches are wedding ready cause you’re obviously going to be my bridesmaids.”
"What's your ideal wedding?" I asked her curiously before taking another bite of pizza.
Marci chewed thoughtfully for a long moment before she answered. "Small ceremony and large, crazy reception. Something in…springtime? Lots of pastel colors. Maybe somewhere just outside of the city."
"Like an elegant garden theme or something more whimsical?" I asked.
"Elegant garden," she said slowly, a smile gradually forming on her face. "I like that. Might just have you plan it for me."
I rolled my eyes playfully at her. "I'm sure you will when the time comes." My attention shifted to where Karen was on the armchair, her back resting against one armrest and her legs draped over the other as she took a sip of wine.
“So how’re you and Ez then?” I asked her.
Her eyes turned towards me and I watched a deep blush rise on her cheeks. “We’re uh…we’re doing good.”
“He’s not being an asshole, right?” I asked. “I don’t need to slap him for you, do I?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “No, he’s…surprisingly really sweet for how sarcastic I’ve always known him to be,” she admitted. “And very talkative, but also a good listener. Attentive. Surprisingly…mature but a huge goofball.”
Marci and I exchanged knowing looks on the couch.
“What?” she questioned, her eyes darting back and forth between us.
“You sound smitten with my brother, Karen,” I told her with a sly grin.
She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear nervously, her eyes dropping back to the wine glass in her hands. “I mean he’s…he’s pretty great.”
“You ever picture the whole nine yards with him?” Marci asked her. “You know, marriage, kids, the whole thing?”
“Well it’s still really early,” Karen answered slowly. “But I do eventually want that, yeah.”
“I’m not sure if I want kids,” Marci confessed, her attention on her wine glass as her fingers absently tapped along the stem of it. “I’m at such a good place with my career and I want to go a bit further. I feel like kids might keep me from that. Though…Foggy’s mom has always managed to work in a comment about freezing my eggs just about every time I’ve seen her.”
“Sounds like Mrs. Nelson,” Karen said with a smile. “But kids aren’t for everyone. Nothing wrong with that.”
Marci’s gaze slid up to meet mine. “What about you, Em? I know you and Matt aren’t official or whatever,” she said, pulling a face like it was ridiculous that we weren’t. “But let’s be real, it’s a matter of time. You want all of that with him?”
My eyes widened, caught off guard. “I uh…” I hesitated.
In all honesty I had thought about that before–many times really. I wanted marriage someday, possibly children, but I’d spent so many years dealing with Justin’s drama and bullshit that I hadn’t really thought I'd ever actually get to have that. He was always against the idea of getting married, preferring to paint this picture of him living out of a van and playing music as he lived life on the road. In the beginning I had always hoped he wasn't serious, but as time went on, he still seemed pretty set on that. I had often tried to visualize how that lifestyle would even include me–usually the visual was pretty bleak if I even could picture it.
My gaze dropped down to my wine glass, swirling the pink liquid. Towards the end of my relationship with Justin I had often secretly found myself picturing the things I wanted–the life I wanted–with Matt in place of Justin. And over the past few weeks those images and hopes had only grown stronger after Matt’s confession of his feelings.
An image flashed before my mind of Matt standing in a black tux at the end of an aisle in a church–maybe Clinton Church, the one I knew was so dear to him–and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Picturing him waiting for me at the end of a long walk with that warm, affectionate smile that always crinkled the corners of his eyes and that one lone dimple I loved. Hearing him pledge to love me for the rest of his life as our friends and family surrounded us. Just something small and intimate. Maybe we’d go to a restaurant with everyone after–hell, maybe we’d go drink at Josie’s to celebrate. And then we’d go home together; and for some reason my mind pictured his apartment in Hell’s Kitchen–with its worn floors and exposed brick and the peeling paint–instead of my place in the Upper West Side with its quartz countertops and polished hardwood floors. We’d open a bottle of wine, cuddle on the couch and plan out our future. Then eventually make our way back to the bedroom and get tangled in the gray silk sheets of his.
And then I pictured what it would be like coming home to him late at night after a long day photographing a wedding. He’d be at home waiting for me to unload about how things went, a glass of water in his hands and maybe some leftovers in the fridge. He’d sit and listen to me vent, maybe carry me to bed afterwards.
And I imagined weeknights with me at home finishing cooking dinner as Matt came back from a busy day at the office. He’d tell me about his day, I’d grab him a beer and massage his shoulders. We’d eat dinner before unwinding with each other on the couch.
I pictured lazy mornings cuddled in bed, neither of us wanting to tear ourselves away from the other. Evenings sprawled on a couch, our legs stretched across each other as we worked on our separate projects, chatting and laughing together. I pictured coffee dates that turned into lunch dates, grocery shopping trips, and always leaving Josie’s together, hand in hand.
And then I saw Matt on his brown leather couch, the brightest smile I’d ever seen on his face as his hands caressed a baby bump. I heard the excitement in his voice as he told me how he looked forward to being a father and how much he already loved our baby–a stark contrast to my previous experience. Heard him whispering gently to my pregnant belly, his forehead lightly resting against the little bump.
I cleared my throat, trying to swallow back the thick wave of emotion that had abruptly hit me at the rush of images in my mind. I blinked hard a few times, forcing back a tear I felt trying to escape.
“Yeah,” I whispered out, realizing exactly what I wanted. “Yeah, I want that.”
When I looked up, both women were staring at me with faces full of emotion.
“You really care about him, don’t you?” Karen whispered out.
“Yeah, I do,” I confessed.
A few tears managed to break free, trailing down my cheeks. Marci leaned towards me on the couch, her brows drawn together and a frown on her lips. She placed a hand gently on my knee, squeezing it lightly.
“What happened with you and Justin, Em?” she asked carefully.
And then I broke down on Karen’s couch spilling my guts to both women. At some point Karen had moved to sit beside me, rubbing my back as I cried into Marci’s shoulder. I told them everything; I told them about Justin’s constant cheating, his cocaine use, the pregnancy and the miscarriage, how I was still grieving it, how he’d manipulated me and threatened me, how he was still harassing me, how I had been having panic attacks. I even told them about Daredevil making a trek to the Upper West Side to keep an eye out on my apartment for me.
“So that’s why you’re not rushing into things with Matt?” Marci asked me when I’d eventually calmed down.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah I just…he doesn’t need to be dealing with all of my drama. I don’t want to drag that into a relationship, you know? I’d like to be…in a better place. He deserves that at least.”
“I get the feeling Matt would accept you just as you are,” Karen said softly.
“Maybe we could talk about something a little less depressing?” I suggested.
Karen rose and returned back to her spot in the chair across from us as she nodded. Marci cleared her throat beside me and shot me a devilish grin.
“Okay, how about you tell us what you and Matt were doing during our pool game the other week?” she asked curiously. “Because it looked pretty intense and neither of you were that focused on the game.”
I blushed, laughing a little as I wiped the few stray tears from my face. “We were playing a very dangerous game of flirting. It was hot and I regret taking sex off of the table with him for now because–” I exhaled a sharp breath, “–that man is definitely something.”
“Oh?” Karen asked, leaning in. “I didn’t see this, what was going on?”
“So much touching and whispering,” Marci told her.
“Whispering about what?” Karen asked deviously.
Chewing my lip, I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. “About how we both may have gotten off thinking about each other the morning after I crashed at his place and he woke up with an erection. Among…other things.”
Both of their eyes went wide and Marci actually squealed. I laughed lightly as I remembered the sultry way Matt kept looking at me that night.
“So how’d that end?” Karen asked.
“He eventually gave up when I intentionally kept rubbing my ass into him as he was helping me make a shot,” I told her with a sly grin. “Started to enjoy the back and forth between us a little too much, if you know what I mean.”
“Hell yeah, girl!” Marci praised.
“But still no sex,” I told them. “And honestly after that I am really anticipating it.”
Our night carried on from there, gossiping and chatting as we finished off the pizza and all the bottles of wine we’d gotten for the evening. I was slightly inebriated by the time Marci had gotten a text from Foggy saying he’d just gotten home. Shortly after we’d all said our goodbyes and agreed to have another girl’s night in soon. Marci and I parted ways outside, both of us getting into separate cabs and heading to our respective apartments.
The ride back to my apartment took a little over twenty minutes. My head was buzzing as I paid the driver and got out, making my way towards my building. I paused when I saw movement along the side of the building. Too drunk to think through what I was doing, I swerved and headed straight for the alley. On the fire escape climbing upwards I spotted a familiar figure.
I grinned and without thinking quickly called out, “Hey! Devil!”
The figure in the shadows abruptly paused, his head turning in my direction as he hung solely by his arms from a railing on the fourth floor of the building beside mine, about to climb up onto it. I saw him hesitate before he dropped to the fire escape and turned towards me, his head tilting down curiously.
“Just finished checking in on my place?” I called up to him.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, his deep voice echoing in the alley a little.
“You’re not even going to say hi before you disappear?” I boldly asked.
He shifted on his feet and for a moment I thought he was going to just climb back up the fire escape and leave like he’d been about to do. Instead, he swiftly climbed over the side of the railing and dropped two floors down to the next fire escape before he jumped over the edge of that one and landed unharmed on the pavement below. He rose slowly to his full height and took a few steps closer but intentionally stayed in the shadows.
“Your ex hasn’t been by,” he told me. “So you shouldn’t need to worry tonight.”
My head tilted to the side, studying him. “How long are you planning to keep checking in on me?”
“As long as I need to,” he answered immediately.
A shudder ran through my body at his words and the dedication in them. I took a careful step towards him but paused when I saw him tense. Swallowing hard I continued forward and gradually closed the distance between us. This far into the alley I couldn’t see too well but I stared up at the bit of his face that was always uncovered.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“I just wanted to thank you,” I muttered.
“You’ve been drinking,” he pointed out. “You should probably head inside and get some water. Maybe some rest. Your body sounds tired.”
“I will…” I said, voice trailing off.
Before I could even stop myself my right hand reached out, my fingers resting along the red of his helmet just at his temple. He stiffened beneath me immediately.
“What’re you doing?” he asked again, this time his voice was deeper and sounded alarmed.
I didn’t answer. My focus was on my fingers, sweeping them carefully along the strange, cold material to the section just below one of the red lenses. Slowly my hand slid down, the cold replaced by the warmth of his cheek just below the helmet. My fingers curiously traced up the bit of his cheekbone that was just visible beneath the mask obstructing the upper half of his face.
“Emily,” Daredevil warned.
My fingertips traveled down the stubble of his cheek–stubble much like Matt’s. And then they swept along the edge of his jaw all the way to his chin. Abruptly he shifted his face away from mine and I frowned. My fingers carefully gripped his chin, trying to turn him back to face me. He fought it for a moment before he relented, his gaze downcast though.
And then the thumb of my right hand stretched up, cautiously brushing the edge of his bottom lip. It was soft, plump. Pliable. My thumb carefully pulled it down a little and Daredevil emitted a deep rumble in his chest that briefly startled me; my eyes momentarily darted up to the red lenses in his mask. When he made no move to stop me, my gaze lowered again to his mouth. I couldn’t see much in the dark though. Brazenly, my thumb slid up over the entirety of his lips, pressing lightly as I brushed the finger along them, tracing them curiously.
I didn’t know if it was just the drunk machinations of my brain, but for a moment I could’ve sworn that mouth–those plush lips–were the same ones kissing me at Josie’s.
But then his gloved hand caught my wrist, stilling my movements and my thoughts as he pulled my hand back.
“You’re drunk, Emily,” he stated. “You should go inside.”
I stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed suspiciously. He still held my wrist in his gloved hand just a few inches from his face. My tongue darted out, wetting my lips.
“Who are you?” I breathed out.
Daredevil exhaled a sharp breath as he released my hand, immediately retreating into the shadows and making his way towards the fire escape I’d interrupted him climbing away on a few minutes ago.
“Why won’t you tell me?” I called after him.
He didn’t respond as he jumped up, hands catching the railing of the fire escape and easily pulling himself up on it. He continued on like that, easily climbing up the side of the building in less than a minute before he pulled himself up onto the roof wordlessly. He disappeared into the night without a backward glance, leaving me dizzy from more than just the alcohol.