The Colour of Winter by Michelle Montebello

Author:Michelle Montebello
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michelle Montebello

Sixteen

When morning came, Belle was the first to open her eyes. The room was still dark, and she rolled over, watching Andre sleep, his eyelashes fluttering with his dreams. His hair was unruly and in need of a haircut. She desperately wanted to run her fingers through it but didn’t want to wake him.

They’d spent a long time on the floor the evening before, lying in each other’s arms. He’d apologised again about Florence, and she’d conceded that maybe she’d overreacted. She still wasn’t sure what Mary hoped to gain by staying with them, but she reconciled, not for the first time, that she would have to be the bigger person and deal with it. The alternative was to send her home and Belle couldn’t see how that was possible without seeming cruel. Because who could possibly understand where she was coming from?

Unable to resist, she ran a hand along Andre’s chest, feeling lean muscle ripple under her fingertips. He stirred, opened his eyes, then smiled.

‘Good morning,’ he said, slipping his arm around her so she could nestle in.

‘Good morning.’

He stretched languorously. ‘What time is it?’

‘Almost seven.’

He rested his chin on the top of her head. ‘What’s the plan for today?’

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him close. ‘I thought I might cook us lunch. Something yummy.’

He lifted his chin to glance down at her. ‘Am I taking Mary and Sebastian home?’

She sighed and pulled away so she could meet his eyes. ‘I don’t think there’s any nice way to do that, so no.’

‘It doesn’t matter if it’s nice or not. If she makes you uncomfortable, then she should go.’

Belle chewed her lip, wanting to take Andre up on the offer but knowing the consequences that would follow. She could only imagine what Teresa would say to Uncle Benito. She’s not just infertile. She’s mean too!

‘Let them stay,’ she said. ‘What’s another week?’

‘You tell me. Can you do another week?’

‘I’ll try,’ she replied honestly. ‘At least the baby’s cute.’

Andre gave a reluctant chuckle. ‘Yes, he is.’

‘You need a haircut.’ She reached up to run her hand through his hair. It was soft and long and starting to curl at the ends.

‘I know,’ he said, flicking it out of his eyes. ‘I meant to get one before Christmas.’

‘We can go to the barber in town tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Maybe we could have lunch while we’re there. Celebrate my first year in Italy.’

Tomorrow was the one-year anniversary of the day she’d arrived back in the country. She wasn’t sure if he’d remembered, and she hadn’t wanted to make a fuss about it, but now that she thought of it, lunch, a little of their favourite Barolo, and a walk around Barga sounded like a nice way to celebrate.

His eyebrows shot up with surprise. ‘That’s tomorrow?’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ she hurried to say. ‘I wasn’t going to mention it. But if we’re going in for your haircut, maybe we could do something together.’

‘Of course we can!’ He grimaced an apology, pulling her closer to him.

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