True Art

Chapter Twenty-eight

REMINGTON'S POV

By the second week of having Matthew stay, I had struggled in my futile attempt to resist him. Between helping him shower, watching movies snuggled on the sofa, and deep conversations in the evenings about art and life, there was zero point in trying to keep any distance from him. Matthew was perfect, and I wanted him, age difference or not.

I had dropped him to his Friday morning physio-therapy appointment. That left me with less than an hour to set things up. Resting my hands on my hips, I glanced in and sighed. The small study had been the ideal place to set up as Matthew’s makeshift room. It had been easier to get to and from, and he didn’t have to climb the stairs. But I wanted to make him feel more at home here. Even if it was only short term.

Another reason was more for my own sake. I’d cancelled all my meetings since his accident and made it known I’d be working from home for now. But having Matthew sleeping in my study had left me sitting at the kitchen table each day trying to get things done. And after two weeks, it was clear that work wouldn’t be happening.

Between him wandering in and out, or disappearing into his makeshift bedroom to paint, only to emerge every ten minutes for something, it was one interruption after another. Not to mention how worried I was about the lack of ventilation with him painting in there.

I needed a better setup for the both of us while he was here. I carried his canvas painting supplies into the sunroom and set them up quickly. He could paint there during the day. Then I stripped the foldout bed and dragged my study back into shape. Once the study was almost back to normal, I hauled the rest of his paltry possessions upstairs to the spare bedroom and set them on the chair in the corner.

Maybe I should have asked Matthew if he wanted to move upstairs, but I didn’t need to. I knew he’d be happy no matter where I put him. I’d almost considered setting him up in my bedroom, but then I’d thought better of it. We still hadn’t slept together, and I didn’t want to give him the impression that I was expecting that from him.

The timer on my phone dinged, alerting me that I needed to leave and collect Matthew. I ran down the stairs, catching my reflection in the hall mirror, and I paused.

Was I too old for him? Probably.

Was that enough of a reason to not try to make things work? The jury was still out.

“How was your session?” I said, helping him into the front passenger seat.

“Painful. But good. Martin said I need to rest for the afternoon and drink lots of fluids.”

I nodded and waited for him to buckle in before going around to my side and getting in.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah. Why?”

“No reason. You just look a bit flushed.”

“Do I? I was tidying up at home. That’s probably it.” I shrugged and faced back to the road ahead, trying to ignore the nerves in my stomach.

By the time we had arrived home, Matthew was nearly asleep. I nudged his shoulder gently and then helped him out of the car and inside the cottage. He was about to take a step towards the study when I caught his elbow and steered him towards the stairs.

“Huh? Where are we going?”

“I’ve made some changes. Now, lean on me and grab the bannister. I’ll take your weight.”

I could see the confusion on Matthew’s face, but he didn’t question me further, instead letting me guide him slowly up each step. When we reached the top, I nodded towards the spare room, and he shook his head.

“I can’t believe you moved me up here. I was fine downstairs. This is more trouble for you.”

“No, it’s not. I’m home all the time anyway, so I can help you up and down. But at least this way, you’ll be on a comfortable bed and get some decent rest. You need it to heal.”

Matthew stared at the large sleigh bed, and his eyelids looked heavy. He was exhausted, and I knew he’d be asleep within minutes.

“Come on. Let me help you in, and then you take a nap, and I’ll have a nice lunch waiting for you when you wake up.”

“You’re so good. Thank you. You didn’t need to go to all this trouble... for me.”

I helped him into the bed, slipping off his shoes and dragging the cover over his legs. He looked so young and sweet in the huge bed. So perfect and beautiful. Heat raced through my body, and I felt myself harden as I stared down at him.

“It was no effort at all. And even if it was, you’d be worth it, Matthew.”

He smiled, his eyes slipping closed, and I wondered if he’d heard me. I needed him to know how wonderful he was. Then he might start to believe it himself.