True Art

Chapter One

REMINGTON'S POV

The soft rain had finally stopped as I made my way through the streets of Dublin City Centre. Summer showers had been falling all morning, and the familiar scent of damp trees and wet stone made me smile. Dublin always felt like home to me, having spent four years living there while in university studying Art History, and then another decade training as an art dealer. That had been a good time, full of fond memories and adventure. Life had been easy and simple back then, before I moved to London and everything became so much more complicated.

I was glad to be back living in Ireland, even if I had done the one thing I swore I'd never do: move back to the tiny village of Cloch Ban in County Wicklow where I'd grown up. It's funny how age could change your perception. The once boring and dull country village was now my place of utter refuge, and my stone cottage, with its rambling ivy and thatched roof, was everything to me.

A yawn escaped me as I meandered through the busy city streets. I could feel another yawn stirring to escape, the jetlag slowly getting the better of me. I'd arrived at Dublin Airport from Tokyo the night before, and then I was up at five a.m. for an early breakfast meeting and had just finished a viewing at the Auction House. I really needed some sleep.

Maybe age was catching up with me, but lately, I couldn't seem to shake the jetlag from the frequent long-haul flights. Maybe I needed to slow down a little, change my schedule or maybe I needed to face the fact that forty-nine wasn't twenty anymore.

As I made my way down the sun-dappled street, a row of Georgian-terraced houses gleamed in the sun, flanked by leafy, green trees. Across the street, I spied a little café with small tables tucked under a large awning, droplets of rain falling haphazardly from the edges. The smell of freshly-ground coffee hit me hard. Time for a caffeine injection.

After I ordered, I sat outside, removing my tailored jacket and hanging it on the back of my chair. I'd bought it in Milan, custom fit by a very funny Milanese tailor called Ludovico. The smooth material was a pale blue with a faint yellow check pattern and it always made me smile.

The midday sun was beaming down and doing a good job of soaking up the moisture from the rain. Large patches of concrete started to lighten, and I sat there for a while, staring absentmindedly at the shapes and patterns forming on the ground. I'd been traveling for the last three weeks solid, so I was so glad to be sitting in my beloved city, daydreaming in the sunshine.

Cars passed by and I relaxed as the crowds moved down the street. I loved people watching while sipping a nice coffee, but I rarely had time to do it anymore. Even when traveling, I went from a plane to meetings to a hotel and back to the plane. In my early days starting out as an art dealer, I'd have lots of time to wander the cities and pass a few hours. But not now. Success came with a downside and that was the price I paid with my time. I was cash rich and time poor.

I placed my phone on the table and closed my eyes, tilting my head back and letting the sun bathe my face. The sound of chair legs dragging against the concrete roused me from my meditative moment. From the corner of my eye, I saw that someone had sat right at the table next to me. The small tables were very close together with the chairs all facing the street. The café wasn’t that busy and lots of the tables remained empty. I frowned, wishing the stranger hadn't chosen to sit so close to me. I liked my space. It felt like my little moment of relaxation was being interrupted.

Attempting to ignore my new neighbour, I closed my eyes again and breathed in the warm air, the scent of the city reviving me. Or possibly poisoning me with fumes. But I didn’t care. It felt good to be home.

I had almost settled into a dreamy lull when the man at the next table made a call and started laughing into his phone. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, and I listened as he chatted about a recent night out, as far as I could make out. The voice was young, smooth, and playful, if that was possible. I smiled as I thought back to what it was like to be that young and carefree.

"Have you tried this?" the voice said and, at first, I didn't realize he was addressing me. It was only when I sensed eyes watching me that I snapped mine open and turned towards him to see the young man staring at me.

He was in his mid-twenties maybe, with dark and messy curly hair that made me want to tell him to brush it back. But it was his dimples that made me smile. A pair of aviator-style sunglasses hid his eyes, but I was sure they were probably as dazzling as the rest of this young man was.

"Sorry?" I asked, still unsure if he had been talking to me.

"Have you tried this?" he said again, holding up a little tube of sun cream, the kind you might get as a tester from a pharmacy. I shook my head and looked back out to the street, taking a sip of my coffee and feeling bemused by what a strange thing that was to say to a random stranger.

"It's great. It’s high factor, but it doesn't leave that horrible white look like most of them. I'm so glad I found it. Especially in this heat."

I nodded. "Sounds good." I didn't know what else to say to such an odd and random conversation.

The waitress walked along the path and stopped in front of me. "Would you like anything else?"

I'd spied some pastries when I'd ordered earlier and suddenly my stomach was groaning. Work was waiting for me, a mountain of emails still unanswered, but I so rarely got a moment like this, peaceful and restful and... with a view.

"Yes. I'll have a pain au chocolate, please."

I adjusted slightly in my seat, angling myself toward the young man. I tried to casually glance towards the street while also taking in this curious man's demeanour. This was so unlike me. I never did things like this. But then, if the universe was going to seat such a beautiful young man beside me, I may as well appreciate it for a little longer.