"You look pretty." Eve leaned against the door frame, watching her sister smooth out her dress, "Do you have a date?"

"Thank you, but no." Marie sighed as she fixed her hair in the mirror. She didn't feel bad for lying to Eve, knowing it would save both of them from a long and complicated story. And, in all truth, she wasn't even sure if it was a date.

She hadn't been on one in probably a year, since her last relationship. She thought it would be best to take a break from meeting men, after her breakup with her ex-boyfriend was so messy.

Yet there she was, putting gloss on her lips and blush on her cheeks. She felt embarrassed imagining Mr. Whitlock's surprise at seeing her so dressed up, but the rest of her was excited. Excited to watch his puzzled reaction, and excited to see a film and eat supper beside him.

"I don't believe you." Eve rolled her eyes, smirking suspiciously before walking away, "Have a nice night wherever you're going."

Marie smiled, shaking her head, before an anxious lump formed in her throat. That sick feeling stayed, as she walked out of her sister's house and made it all the way to where Mr. Whitlock would be waiting.

Finally she locked her teeth onto the inside of her cheek, and swung open the front door.

She saw Mr. Whitlock waiting at the top of the stairs, dressed in the suit he always wore and looking the same as every other day. Yet to Marie he appeared far more handsome than she had ever noticed.

His eyes were puzzled at first, but a wave of adulation quickly spread across his face.

"You look absolutely marvelous. As beautiful as ever, Marie." A charming smile graced his lips, his voice smooth as melted chocolate.

Marie did look splendid, her features striking and her face glowing with anticipation. Her golden hair was curled, framing her face and making her blue eyes glisten in the evening light.

"Thank you." Was all she said, smiling shyly as she held her bag tightly, before nodding towards the kitchen, "I suppose you can watch me attempt to make a dinner now."

Mr. Whitlock followed closely behind her as she set her bag on the counter and pulled out a box of spaghetti, tomato sauce, and Parmesan cheese.

"I know you won't be able to eat this, and I'm sorry, but I'm awfully hungry and I doubt this will turn out alright anyways. My mother may be tragic at cooking, but I'm afraid I am not any better." Marie said in one breath, her heart pounding in her ears as she nervously filled a pan with water and placed it on the stove.

"No worries, this will be rather amusing." Mr. Whitlock's calm manner was comforting to Marie, but she still found herself spilling the sauce on the floor. At first she was frustrated as piece after piece of this seemingly simple supper went wrong, and at one point she buried her face in her hands and felt near crying.

How humiliating it was to have him watch her stumble clumsily, curse as she realized she overcooked the pasta, and even drop a bowl as she slipped on the spilled sauce. But she looked around amidst the chaos, and began to burst out laughing.

She turned to see Mr. Whitlock laughing as well, the sound a deep hum that rang through the air and into Marie's ears. They sat and laughed for some time at how ridiculous that night had turned out. How comical it was that her dinner had ended up even worse than her mother's, and how worried she was that he was watching when in all reality the sight only made him like her all the more.

"What a horrible idea that was." Marie admitted between embarrassed laughs. She realized that was the first time they had been together without discussing heavy topics. It felt good knowing that despite both of their unfortunate lives, they were still able to let go of those emotions and simply feel content.

Marie ended up eating a bowl of cereal that she found, which Eve had left there accidentally after her son hid the box inside a cabinet.

Then she and Mr. Whitlock sat in the loft upstairs to watch an old film in black-and-white on the television. They laughed along to the silly moments, and cried along to the sadder ones. Marie cried, that is. The ghost only furrowed his brows in concern, although it was more for Marie than for the characters in the movie.

Once the film ended, Marie had tears streaming down her cheeks. There was not a happy ending, only a cruel scene where the father left his family that reminded her far too much of her own father.

As she sat, silently crying for a few moments, Mr. Whitlock approached her slowly with worry in his eyes. He could see something was wrong, but had no way of knowing what it was. All he could do was reach out his arm and bring his hand to her face, in attempts of wiping the tears from her cheeks.

But as he brought his fingers close, his hand slipped through her skin and dropped to his side. His heart split in two, the feeling in his chest unmistakable as he realized something he had known all along. That no matter what, there would likely never be a possibility of him being able to even caress her.

He was a ghost, and she was human.

How was it fair that he should expect her to love him when they had no real future together?

Unsure thoughts raced through his head, dragging down the pleasant feeling that had been circling him the entire evening. He felt he had no right to spend time with her, for if she ended up falling in love with him as badly as he had fallen in love with her, he would never forgive himself.

Marie opened her eyes and wiped her tears away, entirely unaware of what had happened, and was confused when she saw the distant expression on Mr. Whitlock's face. It was such a contrast from how happy he had looked before, but she assumed something from the movie was the cause of his solemn look.

And as she looked out the window, a shiver tickling her spine as she saw the pitch black night peering back at her, she resorted instead to spending the night in the old house. She thanked the ghost for a lovely evening, still puzzled at his serious attitude, then curled up on the bed in Charlotte's childhood bedroom, staring at the stuffed bear in the trash until she fell asleep.

She dreamed that night of a tall man in a black suit who had tussled brown hair, dark eyes, and a smile that made her broken heart skip a beat.