True Art

Chapter Fifteen

MATTHEW'S POV

Remi and I had fallen asleep together on the sofa, watching movies into the early hours. When I woke, the birds were chirping outside the window. The clock on my phone said 10 A.M. I pushed the heavy wool blanket off me and stretched. It was funny that I had fallen asleep on another couch, though Remi’s couch was a huge luxurious leather recliner, not the dingy sofas I’d been sleeping on the weeks before.

I padded softly upstairs to my room to grab a jumper and shorts. Back downstairs, the kitchen was flooded with light, the bright sunny morning invading every inch of the country kitchen and setting all the wooden beams into a warm golden glow.

There was a magic to this place, not just the cottage but to the whole village. Life seemed slower and softer. It awakened my senses and reminded me why I loved to paint. I'd capture something like this, the shafts of pale light carrying a million specks of dust and the lush green of the trees waving outside the window. It would be hard not to be inspired in this place.

I peered out the kitchen window and spotted something moving in the wild garden. It was fast, running among the long grass, and then out it shot, red feathers scuffled as it clucked its way across the old stone terrace.

I hadn't seen a real chicken in.... maybe ever. Pulling on a pair of old boots from the rack at the back door, I tiptoed out and followed the clucking around the corner. There was a small wooden structure like a tiny shed, and my new feathery friend wasn't alone. I counted six hens and then lost track of them, not sure if I was doubling up on them as they squawked and pecked at the ground.

"Hey, little chickens. Mornin'. Do you lay eggs or not?"

I crept closer and saw the lip on the roof of the henhouse, the top lifting away to reveal the inside and the five oval eggs.

"Ooh, you do lay eggs. Can I take two?"

The chicken closest to me clucked, and I leaned down to talk to her, but she darted at me. I squealed, not expecting her to run at me, and I jumped back and raced towards the house, the chicken speeding after me and pecking the air.

I slammed the kitchen door and caught my breath. God, that wasn't what I was expecting.

"Relax, I'm not taking your eggs, you ferocious creature! Cluck off!" I grinned at my own pun and kicked off my boots.

My stomach grumbled, starved after missing dinner the night before. The fridge was new, but an old style Smeg in a soft blue. It made me grin just looking at it.

"Such a happy little home," I mumbled to myself, and I pulled the silver handle to find a bowl of eggs staring at me from the shelf. "Ha, I don't need your eggs," I called out to my new nemesis, and I grabbed the eggs, milk, tomatoes, and butter I needed to make scrambled eggs.

I wasn't a bad cook, but I didn't have much money, so I relied on cheap and protein-rich dishes. Eggs were a favourite. And oats. Though they got boring fast.

The cooker was the next hurdle.

"Hmm, this is not going to be easy." I looked at the old Aga cooker, and when I touched it, I realized it was warm. There was a fire lit inside, and the large pipes were hot to touch. "That's cool. Old-school. I like it."

I did what anybody would do in my situation: I googled. Turns out, I wasn't the only person who had struggled to use an Aga cooker.

Once the pan was heating, butter melting in a swirl of bubbly richness, I added the eggs, milk, diced tomatoes, and some salt and pepper. There was bread left over from the previous day, and I cut two thick slices and dropped them into the toaster. I took a forkfill of eggs from the pan to taste them for seasoning.

"Ooh, yum, mmm... So good... Mmm."

"You eating those eggs or making love to them?"

I swung around to see Remi grinning from the doorway, dressed in a light grey t-shirt and his beard darker and grown out. He looked sexier than ever.

"I was just tasting them. Sit down, I’ve made you breakfast." I wiped my mouth and plated up the two china plates with toast and scrambled eggs.

"You didn't have to cook, but thank you. It looks good."

I beamed at him as he slid into the breakfast nook, the sunshine landing on his grey hair and shimmering like spun silver.

"It's nothing. I just wanted to do something nice. Though I nearly got attacked by those ferocious beasts you have out back."

Remi looked up at me, perplexed.

"The chickens. I tried to get some eggs, but they wouldn't let me take them."

He grinned. "Those aren't eggs for eating, Matthew. They're incubating. That's why the hens ran you off. It's a good thing you didn't get them, or we'd be eating--"

"Oh my god, don't finish that sentence."

I made a point of not thinking too long about what eggs were, because when I did, I'd get a little squeamish. But the thought of cracking them open to find a baby chick was too much. I stared at my plate and swallowed. "I'm not sure I want to eat this now."

Remi laughed and beckoned me into the seat beside him. "Sit down and eat up. What would you like to do today? I need to make some calls this morning and respond to some client enquiries. It'll take about two hours. Do you mind? I'll be all yours for the rest of the day."

I ran my hand over his thigh and pressed closer to him in the breakfast nook. "That's fine. I can go for a walk. I might even take a short hike up to the woods, see if I can get some photos of the valley to paint."

"Hmm, that's a nice idea. We can meet back here for lunch. I'll make some soup, and then I'm carrying you back upstairs to finish what we started." He leaned over and kissed my neck, and I all but begged for him to carry me back upstairs right then. It was crazy how fast this was happening and even more crazy how right it all felt.

"It's a plan." There was something different about Remi today, a nervousness that made me uneasy. "Are you okay?"

He took a mouthful of eggs and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. Just feeling a little down about the fact it's Sunday, and you're heading back home to Dublin this evening. I don't know how I feel about that."

His confession stole my breath, and I chewed my lip, holding back the urge to tell him I didn’t want to go. That I didn’t want to ever leave, and would it really be that crazy just to stay here in this little bubble and live happily ever after?

"Well, it's not like I can stay here," I whispered.

"I'm just unsure what to say."

I turned to him, seeing the hesitation in his eyes. "Why? What are you unsure of?"

"You. I'm unsure about you."

Shit. That wasn't what I had hoped he'd say. "Okay, that's a little... blunt?"

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. "No, I mean... What I mean is, I'm all over the place at the minute. You make me..."

"What? I make you what?"

"Feel. Matthew, you make me feel things, deep things. And I haven't felt anything in a very long time. It's unnerving."

"Oh. That's not so bad."

He laughed and nuzzled my ear. "It is if you're me. I'm not used to all these feelings. It's as if I'm a kid again. I don't know what to think right now."

I pressed my lips to his, silencing him and soaking in the comfort that he seemed to give me. If only he knew what I was feeling. But I couldn’t tell him yet. It was too soon to lay it all out. I'd bide my time and wait.

We sat and ate together, staring dreamily into the flower-filled garden and living a moment of a life I'd never imagined. I knew it couldn't last. But for now, I was going to pretend it would never end.