True Art

Chapter Thirty-seven

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. I’d 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.

“Daydreaming?”

I jumped at Remi’s voice. “Yes. I made tea, if you want it.”

He grabbed the teapot and poured out a cup, before leaning on the counter beside me.

“You okay? Nervous?”

I shrugged. “No, not really. I know my leg is fine. I just feel a little tired today.” 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 I’d be getting the all clear. Which meant that I’d be well enough to leave and have no reason to stay.

That’s what had me nervous. I still had nowhere to go. But at least, I did have a job. After the charity dinner, I’d sent my resume to the Director of the Gallery, and he’d replied within the week offering me a part-time position as an art assistant. I couldn’t believe it. I’d be able to work an amazing job, earn some actual money, and still have time to paint. But that meant I’d also have even less of a reason to impose on him any longer.

Remi’s phone rang, and he looked at it and headed towards his study, mouthing, “It’s work,” before closing the door tight.

I sipped my tea and frowned. He hadn’t asked me to go, but he also hadn’t asked me to stay. The doorbell chimed, and I heard the front door creak open and Siobhan’s cheery voice calling out.

“In here!” I shouted, and she appeared in the doorway with a multi-coloured umbrella and a large plate of iced cakes.

“I made these earlier and thought you might fancy them after your check-up. You ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m just waiting on Remi. He’s on a work call.”

Her brow furrowed. “Oh, didn’t he tell you? He asked me to drive you to your appointment. Something about a client meeting he couldn’t get out of.”

“No, he hadn’t said anything. I’ll grab my coat, and we can go.” 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 wasn’t going to let him see how hurt I was. I knew no matter what today’s answer was, I’d 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 couldn’t concentrate, wondering about what had changed instead. Why didn’t Remi want to come with me? Maybe he really was busy with a client? But then why hadn’t he said anything? I was so frazzled from overthinking that I could barely concentrate on the surgeon’s 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 couldn’t even think about eating. I felt nauseous, and I knew I wouldn’t be much company. I was too consumed by fear that it was all over. Six weeks of bliss just coming to an end.

“You sure you’re alright, Matthew? I can stop at the shop and get you a drink or some chocolate?”

I shook my head and continued staring out the window at the buildings as we drove. “No thanks. I’m just tired, and I feel a bit off today.”