One Winter Weekend

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

N aomi woke slowly, stretching languorously. The winter sunshine was barely peeking around the curtains of their hotel room, and she snuggled deeper under the fluffy duvet. Max was still sleeping, blissfully unaware of the world, and she smiled to herself.

Poor, dear Max.

She knew he was probably dreaming of being back at home in England, where he didn’t have to travel by boat and where Frosted Flakes and bacon sandwiches were easy to come by.

The fact that he would go to such lengths to treat her to a dream holiday in Italy when he was so clearly out of his element spoke volumes about how he felt about her.

She stole a glance at the clock and bit her lip, feeling momentarily guilty for having not called before she went to bed for the night.

What if Julia fussed, or had trouble sleeping, or wasn’t feeling well? What sort of mother didn’t check up on these things?

Almost as if he could sense her consternation, Max woke beside her, stretching and groaning. Naomi smiled as she rolled over to face him. He always looked so rumpled when he woke up—hair sticking up in multiple directions, pillow creases on his face—and somehow she found it charming. He looked so relaxed and unassuming, much like he had in college when they had first started dating. She leaned over now and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around. “Mmm. What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock, aka time to rise and shine and get some breakfast.” Naomi threw back the covers and raced to the bathroom for a hot shower. Max protested weakly from the bed, laughing. “Not fair. You had a head start.”

Naomi laughed and pulled a fluffy towel down from the rack. Her guilt over not calling home was fading a little. Julia was in the most capable of hands, she reminded herself, and after all, she had to admit spending time alone with Max was a luxury she’d sorely missed.

She’d gotten so used to building her daily routine around the baby that she’d forgotten what it was like to spend a romantic evening with her husband and wake up slowly, on her own timetable, the next morning.

It was rather a lovely feeling.

Once they had both dressed for the day, in warm sweaters and coats, they set out to find breakfast. Naomi was thrilled to get a chance to experience a real Italian menu, though she could sense Max’s trepidation.

To say he wasn’t big on trying new foods would be putting it nicely, but luckily a traditional Continental breakfast didn’t veer too far from what he was used to eating back home. At the café near their hotel, they ordered frothy cappuccinos and plates of flaky pastries filled with sweet cream or chocolate. There was fruit, yoghurt and muesli on the side and hot chocolate. Max seemed pleasantly surprised, and Naomi found herself relishing her breakfast without having to worry about feeding the baby.