Chapter Thirty-seven
True Art
MATTHEW'S POV
The next ten days felt like the last days of the summer holiday. Five weeks had flown by, and the weather had changed from sunshine to rain. Iâd woken early, made sure my little chick was fed, then got myself sorted. It was dreary outside, and I stared out the kitchen window, grateful for the low heat of the Aga cooker.
âDaydreaming?â
I jumped at Remiâs voice. âYes. I made tea, if you want it.â
He grabbed the teapot and poured out a cup, before leaning on the counter beside me.
âYou okay? Nervous?â
I shrugged. âNo, not really. I know my leg is fine. I just feel a little tired today.â It was lies, and I was pretty sure Remi knew it. My check-up with the surgeon was at eleven, and today was the day Iâd be getting the all clear. Which meant that Iâd be well enough to leave and have no reason to stay.
Thatâs what had me nervous. I still had nowhere to go. But at least, I did have a job. After the charity dinner, Iâd sent my resume to the Director of the Gallery, and heâd replied within the week offering me a part-time position as an art assistant. I couldnât believe it. Iâd be able to work an amazing job, earn some actual money, and still have time to paint. But that meant Iâd also have even less of a reason to impose on him any longer.
Remiâs phone rang, and he looked at it and headed towards his study, mouthing, âItâs work,â before closing the door tight.
I sipped my tea and frowned. He hadnât asked me to go, but he also hadnât asked me to stay. The doorbell chimed, and I heard the front door creak open and Siobhanâs cheery voice calling out.
âIn here!â I shouted, and she appeared in the doorway with a multi-coloured umbrella and a large plate of iced cakes.
âI made these earlier and thought you might fancy them after your check-up. You ready to go?â
âYes, Iâm just waiting on Remi. Heâs on a work call.â
Her brow furrowed. âOh, didnât he tell you? He asked me to drive you to your appointment. Something about a client meeting he couldnât get out of.â
âNo, he hadnât said anything. Iâll grab my coat, and we can go.â So there it was; the separation had begun. Remi knew I was anxious about this, and he had arranged for his sister-in-law to take me and not even told me. Well, fuck that. I took a deep breath and pulled on my jacket, fighting back the urge to cry. If this was his way of breaking away, pulling back, then I wasnât going to let him see how hurt I was. I knew no matter what todayâs answer was, Iâd probably be packing up and moving back to Dublin.
The drive into Dublin was long, with Siobhan chatting about random things and the kids, but I couldnât concentrate, wondering about what had changed instead. Why didnât Remi want to come with me? Maybe he really was busy with a client? But then why hadnât he said anything? I was so frazzled from overthinking that I could barely concentrate on the surgeonâs comments, only managing to hear him tell me that the surgery was a full success, and my knee was healed.
After my appointment, Siobhan had offered to take me for lunch, but I couldnât even think about eating. I felt nauseous, and I knew I wouldnât be much company. I was too consumed by fear that it was all over. Six weeks of bliss just coming to an end.
âYou sure youâre alright, Matthew? I can stop at the shop and get you a drink or some chocolate?â
I shook my head and continued staring out the window at the buildings as we drove. âNo thanks. Iâm just tired, and I feel a bit off today.â
It had started to lash rain as we left the city, and it felt as though the entire world was as miserable as I felt. The summer had ended and so had my perfect life. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my friend.
Me: You looking for a houseguest?
Connor: Hey stranger. Is your leg still fucked up? Because Iâm not carrying you.
Me: Leg is 99% good, but Iâm disappointed you wonât do your fireman carry.
Me: You can say no. Donât want to be crowding you, again. Just looks like I might have to leave where Iâm staying earlier than planned.
Connor: The couch is yours. Ya know that.
Me: Thanks.
I let my phone fall onto my lap, and my head rested against the cold glass of the passenger window. The city evolved into suburbs, then followed the coastal road until we were driving through Glen of the Downs, and then out past Glendalough and into expanses of green fields, forests, mountains, and sea.
The skies had grown clear, grey clouds visible in the rear-view mirror over the city. Siobhan took the turn off the main road and drove the short, steep climb to Cloch Ban. This time, the drive was making me feel so sad I couldnât be sure I wouldnât start to cry. It amazed me how much the village felt like home. Six weeks of living there and it felt as though it was the only place that had ever felt right to me.
As we turned into the gate for the cottage, I noticed the front door was wide open and my paint boxes were stacked, ready to go. Fuck. Remi hadnât even waited before packing my shit up. I swallowed hard, tears threatening to fall. What the fuck had happened? Weâd been so happy, and Iâd really thought he had gotten used to the age difference between us.
Clearly, I was wrong.
âThanks for the lift, Siobhan. Iâll see you soon, or... sometime.â
âMatthew?â
I ignored her, afraid I might start crying right there and opened the car door, my eyes smarting and my lip trembling.
I was barely out of the car when Remi flew out of the house. He looked surprised to see us but quickly nodded at Siobhan and winked. âThanks for driving him.â
âYou get sorted?â she said, raising her eyebrows.
âYep. All done. Talk to you later.â
She grinned and waved as she hopped back into her car and drove back out the gate.
Remi turned to face me. âWeâre going to be late. Come on, Matthew.â
I felt exhausted, as though Iâd run a million miles. It was as though I was in shock but also like I was dreaming. âLate for what?â
He grabbed my paint boxes and loaded them into the back of his Range Rover as I watched in stunned silence.
âLate for Seanâs opening,â he said.
We drove along the roads in complete silence, Remi seeming nervous, and I was totally unable to speak. When we arrived at the long drive to the Manor, I managed to find my voice again.
âWhy are we here?â
âYouâll see. Donât you want to see how the market is going?â
The weekend market was in full swing, despite the change in weather, and most of the village was there in support.
Remi meandered through the crowd, and I followed him like a lost puppy, not sure what to think or do. I hadnât even bothered to ask him why heâd packed up my paints or when he was planning on asking me to leave. Because thatâs what was coming, and I knew it.
The sun had started to peek out behind the clouds, and the main square of the converted stable yard was lit up. All the food and produce stalls were set up in a large square, and it looked fantastic.
The renovated stable houses gleamed in the sunshine, and I followed Remi as he walked past the artisan bakery stall, a large wooden cart filled with local honey, and one of the stable buildings now housing a beautiful fresh fruit and veg shop.
âItâs really busy. Sean must be delighted.â I looked around at the crowd and wondered how happy he must be.
âYeah, itâs going even better than expected,â Remi said, and he continued past another converted stable which was now a pottery studio. Next was a yoga class filled with children doing sun salutes.
I realized he had stopped walking, and I ground to a halt and nearly keeled over as I stood staring at my own soul reflecting back at me. The converted stable at the end of the courtyard was a wall of glass, and inside, all my new paintings Iâd made over the last six weeks were hung. I gulped in air but couldnât breathe, the shock and surprise ploughing into me.
âI was hoping to have it set up even more, with your paints and stuff, but you were back early. Poor Siobhan was texting me in a panic, because you wouldnât go for lunch with her.â
I turned and stared at Remi, really zoning in on the eagerness in his eyes and the kindness on his face. He wasnât wanting me to leave. He wanted me to stay.