True Art

Chapter Nine

REMINGTON'S POV

"You did what?" Sean's tone was incredulous, and I paced back and forth in my kitchen, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I rubbed my temples. What had I gotten myself into?

"Sean, listen--"

His voice flowed loudly down the line. "Like, this weekend? Here? Right here? In Cloch Ban?"

"Christ. Yes, Sean. I invited him here, with me, for the weekend. What was I thinking?"

"Well, I think we both know what you were thinking, Remington. Or at least what part of you was doing the thinking."

I rolled my eyes and slid into a seat at the breakfast nook. "That's not helpful. I felt sorry for him. He has nowhere to go, and I enjoy his company. He's a nice guy."

"You can't be picking up homeless strangers just because you're apparently going through some saintly crisis. You don't know him. He could be after your money."

"You were the one that told me to ask him out, Sean."

"I know. I meant date him. Or sleep with him. Not bring him home with you and move him in."

I groaned and rested my head on the table and half whispered into the phone. "He's not moving in. It's one weekend."

"We'll see. Wait until Sunday evening when he's not packed and ready to go."

"Maybe that wouldn't be the worst?" I said it to annoy him, but it wasn't that far from the truth. I was tired of being lonely, tired of blind dates and boring men. I knew very little about Matthew, but I couldn't deny how he made me feel. That was something you couldn't fake. "I have to go. I'm up early tomorrow."

Sean huffed on the other end of the phone. "Fine. Ring me tomorrow so I can continue my questioning. Night."

I had offered to collect Matthew and drive him down here, but he said he'd get the train. Why had I done it? I was far too sensible to be this impulsive. But I knew the reason, and it caught in my throat and smarted at my eyes.

This boy, this total stranger, was the only person that had made me feel like a fraction of myself. Of the person I'd been before Geoffrey had died. Maybe it didn't make sense, but as far as I was concerned, it didn't have to. Matthew was the light guiding me from a tunnel of darkness. There was no way I was walking away from that.

* * *

The next day flew by. I cleared my emails, ordered in a grocery delivery, let in my housekeeper, and then headed over to my brother’s house for a late lunch.

I was sitting in the large sunny lounge, which looked directly over the bay and the murky green Irish sea. My sister-in-law was seated next to me and was giving me 'the look'. The one that said, I need more information, and I won't stop until you give it to me.

"So, when are we going to get to meet this guy?" Siobhan tucked her legs under her on the sofa and handed a doctor's playset to my niece, Aileen, who was busy fixing her teddy bears.

"What guy? I don't know who you're talking about."

"I ran into Sean earlier in the bakery. He said you have some young hottie and that he was spending the weekend with you."

"Lord Almighty, why does everyone have to know each other’s private business in this village? Gossip mongers. That's what you all are."

She gave me a look and stuck her tongue out at me just as my brother Christopher walked in.

He stared at both of us. "What's wrong?"

"Remington has a boyfriend." Siobhan bounced in the seat.

"No, I don’t. We're just friends," I said with a sigh.

Christopher sat on the armchair across from me, lifting up their youngest daughter, Elva, as she crawled over to him and setting her down on his lap. "What's his name? This friend of yours."

"Matthew. And he is just a friend."

"He's coming to Cloch Ban for the weekend," Siobhan said.

My brother sat forward and raised his eyebrows. "Really? Here? That is serious."

I felt my cheeks flush. Since Geoffrey, I hadn't been in another serious relationship. There had been a few casual meetups when the need overcame me, but nothing serious. Siobhan and Christopher had seen what I went through with Geoffrey, and they knew better than anyone how broken I was after.

"What does this Matthew do then? When he's not joining you for dirty weekends." Christopher winked and I shook my head.

"Stop. It's not like that. He's an artist. A painter."

"Ooh, that's perfect. You must get on really well. When is he arriving?" Siobhan said.

I steadied my breath. "In about four hours."

Aileen tore across the room and flung herself at me. She was big for four, and she landed on top of me with an oomph.

Siobhan squealed. "Four hours? You have to bring him here! Let's have dinner. Tonight. I'll cook. No, Christopher will cook. It'll be great! I can't wait."

I considered arguing, but I knew it would be pointless. Elva, with her big round eyes and curls that only a two-year-old could pull off, twisted around and burped.

"That's how I feel, Elva." I smiled at her and she giggled, wriggling out of my brother’s hold.

Siobhan stared at me, her excitement palpable. When my brother had married her, I’d known he was the luckiest man in the world. She was an incredible wife and mother and now one of my best friends.

"Can I tell Christopher about his age?" She winked at me.

I shrugged, having lost the will to argue with either of them. They both seemed more excited than even I was.

"Christopher, your brother has a toy boy. He's in his twenties."

"Fu-- I mean, wow. That's... different." Christopher’s eyes were wide, and I laughed at his surprise.

"We're just friends. Yes, he's young, but I'm helping him with his career. Don't make this into something that it's not."

I wasn't sure whether I was trying to convince them or myself. But I didn't have too long to worry about it. Matthew's train was arriving in a few hours, and then he'd be thrown in the deep end, meeting my crazy family. If anything was going to scare that boy off, that would do it.