True Art

Chapter Fourteen

***warning! mature content ahead!***

REMINGTON'S POV

We’d spent the morning at the fête, lazing around for lunch and getting sleepy in the afternoon sun. Chatting to Matthew was like getting to know someone you’d always admired; a free spirit that lived from their soul and heart, not with their head. He was so happy, despite his life circumstances.

Positivity radiated from every pore and I couldn’t help but feel happy in his presence. It felt so natural to have him by my side that it was only after I’d gotten an odd look from the village busybody that I remembered Matthew was half my age.

Mrs. Molloy was a right old bat. Always gossiping and judging. ‘Holier than thou’ was her trademark attitude.

I had brought Matthew to the bakery for a treat, and as we stood staring at the array of delicious pastries, the door had chimed and in walked ‘the face’.

That’s what everybody referred to her as. I didn’t approve of calling people names, but I’d made an exception for Mrs. Molloy. To be honest, I could think of a lot worse to call her.

She’d earned the name by the expression she’d throw you if you were doing something she didn’t approve. That’s when she’d give you ‘the face’. I grinned and looked away when I saw her walk in and stop in her tracks, knowing she was going to be outraged by my young friend.

Her own son was gay, so I knew that wasn’t the issue. But I guessed it was the dashing young man half my age that she was taking exception to.

“Mr. Clarke. You’re back in town, I see. And you’ve brought a friend. I don’t recognize that boy.”

The way she emphasized the word ‘boy’ made me grit my teeth. I licked my lips and adjusted my posture before beaming at her with the biggest smile I could muster up. “I am indeed, Mrs. Molloy. And this young man is a friend and business associate, a wonderful artist.”

She huffed and grabbed a loaf of brown soda bread from a basket. “Is he now? And do you bring all your associates to stay with you for the weekend?”

I knew she’d probably heard about Matthew staying with me because she heard everything. She ran the local post office and it was a glorified gossip shop. I swallowed back the desire to tell her to just fuck off and instead ordered two cream-filled donuts which Matthew had chosen.

“That looks very rich, I don’t know how you could eat that,” she commented behind me.

As I took the packaged treats and turned to leave, something came over me. A strange sort of playful energy that I hadn’t felt in years.

I paused, watching as Matthew exited the bakery ahead of me and then I turned to Mrs Molloy and her little scowling face and leaned in close.

“Oh, I have no problem eating things filled with cream. I could eat them all day long. I like nothing more than mouthfuls of creamy goodness.”

Her gasp was audible, and I chuckled as I left the store. I wasn’t going to let people’s opinions of me and Matthew change my mind. So what if I was twice his age? Age was just a number. And love didn’t go by numbers.

* * *

“Are you sure this is okay? We can go out for food if you prefer. There’s a lovely restaurant down by the pier.” I stared at Matthew as he sat cross-legged on my sofa, balancing a tray on his knees.

“Nope, this is perfect. I’m tired and it’s nice to stay in.”

“You’re too young to be tired,” I teased, and he grinned up at me, his dimples making my nerve endings ignite. “You’re so gorgeous, Matthew. Really striking. I look at you and think you should be in a painting, preserved for all to see.”