Winter In Venice (Escape To Italy Book 3)

by Melissa Hill

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday morning, Max and Naomi got off to a sluggish start. Max noticed happily that she was relaxing more with each passing day; today she slept much later than usual, and seemed happy to cuddle in bed rather than rushing to get up and out the door. He took it as a good sign that the beauty of the city was working its magic.

  He didn’t want to say it out loud and spoil the mood, but he missed mornings like this—just the two of them, cuddled up in bed, then perhaps picking out an activity for the day. No baby needing to be fed, clothed, changed and coddled; no schedule that included mandatory feedings and naps. Just he and Naomi, the way it used to be.

  Part of him felt so guilty for even thinking that though. Of course he loved Julia—until she was born, he hadn’t quite understood how people fell head over heels in love with infants, but one look into her serious green eyes and he was a goner.

  He adored his daughter, loved playing with her, napping with her on his chest, dancing around in the living room holding her and listening to her laugh. He looked forward to many years of firsts—first day of school, first pet, first date, first car—and to many father-daughter chats. He was thrilled with his daughter, and thrilled with what a wonderful mother Naomi was to their baby.

  He just missed having his wife around, too.

  He sat in bed and watched her put on makeup in the bathroom mirror. It seemed like so much of her energy these days went into the baby, not into herself. It wasn’t just their relationship that had been put on the back burner; he realised that now, a bit belatedly.

  Little things like putting on mascara in the mornings, picking up a novel she wanted to read—they had gone out the window in favour of feedings, changings and caring for Julia. Max realised a bit guiltily that his wife didn’t have a lot of time for her own interests anymore and he wondered if maybe he should be chipping in a lot more than he was. Either way, he wanted to do something to help make it up to her.

  So, while she was busy getting ready for the day, he popped down to the hotel reception desk and asked the manager on duty to help him find a good couple’s massage therapist in the city.“I don’t speak Italian, so perhaps you could set something up for us? Preferably with someone who speaks a little English?”

  The manager seemed only too happy to help, and promised to have something lined up for the afternoon, after they came back from their museum tour but before dinner. That treat all taken care of, Max went back upstairs to collect his wife and whisk her off to tour the art galleries.

  The first one was full of classical Italian art from the past several centuries, and Max looked around with amazement at the extensive collection. He didn’t necessarily know anything about the artists featured—none of the names jumped out at him—but even so it was hard not to be impressed with the huge collection. Their tour guide was fairly chatty but also let them have plenty of time to study the pictures on their own.

  In one of the rooms, he and Naomi struck up a conversation with an Irish girl visiting the city—from Dublin, as it turned out.“Oh, we’re from Newcastle,”Naomi explained.“So we’re used to this cold!”

  The woman laughed.“At least the city isn’t flooded,”she said.“It happens from time to time. I’ve been lucky though; both times I’ve visited it’s been dry.”

  They chatted for a while about everything they’d seen so far, and Naomi asked if Lucy was travelling solo or with a partner. For a moment the woman looked sad, but she laughed.“No romantic trip for me, I’m afraid.I’m just taking a little break as a Christmas gift to myself.”

  After the galleries, Max and Naomi found a nearby caféwhere they ordered miniature pizzas and drinks for lunch.

  Naomi checked her phone, scrolling across the screen to check the time. Max could see that she was calculating the hour time difference between and whether it was too early yet to call home, and he said quickly,“I have a surprise for you.”

  “Oh?”Naomi was distracted enough to put the phone back in her bag. He nodded, encouraged.“Remember I mentioned that massage yesterday? Well, I asked the hotel manager to book us one. I’ve got the paper in my coat pocket with the address; we can have a water-taxi take us straight there. Our appointment is at two o’clock.”

  “Really?” He’d expected her to be excited, but he hadn’t realised she would light up so much at the idea. She quickly checked the time.“Oh, we should leave now! We don’t want to be late.”

  At her insistence Max hurried through the rest of his pizza. That wasn’t even half-bad, he thought reluctantly. Maybe Italian food is growing on me.

  The directions were clear enough to follow, and the water-taxi easily deposited them outside a luxurious looking day spa. To Max’s relief, the masseuses who were handling their appointment both spoke fluent English, so at least he didn’t have to feel awkward about that part of things.

  If Max tolerated the treatments—he thought they were a little frilly, to be honest—he could tell Naomi was beside herself. They started out with a foot bath and moved through a series of massages and body treatments, rubbing in fragrant oils that Max supposed were relaxing or calming. Naomi certainly looked relaxed, and he settled down onto his treatment table, feeling a touch better himself.

  By the time their hour session was up, Naomi was practically radiant, and Max could definitely feel that the kinks in his neck were long gone.

  She was beaming as they glided back down a canal to anotherrestaurant for dinner.“Have you ever felt so relaxed before?”she said dreamily, and he couldn’t help but grin. He supposed he hadn’t, but better than that was seeing how relaxed she was. It was like her old self was coming back—the one who wasn’t constantly stressed and fussing over baby.

  Dinner was the usual mix of terrifying choices, but somehow Max didn’t care so much. He discovered that he could in fact order pasta with a tomato and meat sauce, and did so without caring if it looked too English. He didn’t even know the names of the dishes Naomi ordered, though he could smell seafood in at least one of them. When dessert came around he even tried a bite of her tiramisu, even though he still thought the espresso and chocolate was too strong.

  They finally left the restaurant late and went to hail a boat to take them back to their hotel. Max noticed all the gondoliers lining up outside nearby and on impulse said,“Shall we take a detour?”

  Naomi was snuggled up tightly against him. She followed his gaze, looking delighted.“Are you sure? I know you don’t like being so close to the water…”

  “I can put up with it.”I think.

  Max asked the gondolier to take them on a short tour of the canals, and off they went, poling out into the Grand Canal and taking in the sights of San Marco by night.

  Naomi sighed contentedly. The lights strung up along buildings and over bridges reflected on the lapping waters of the canals, leaving the whole city aglow. It was hard to not feel festive gliding under lit snowflakes and stars and listening to classic Christmas hymns sung in Italian playing through loudspeakers on Rialto Bridge and in shops closing up for the night.

  Max tried carefully to avoid looking down at the water as they glided along. He found that if he just kept his eyes on the level, looking at the colourful paint of the buildings or at the lights overhead, he could almost forget they were in a glorified canoe.

  Naomi seemed perfectly content. Out of the blue, the gondolier gently sang something Italian in a baritone voice, and although Max couldn’t understand a word, he thought he could sense some of the joy in the man’s voice.

  Their gondolier ended their tour right at the dock of their hotel, and Max released a breath as he climbed out of the shallow boat. A dock wasn’t solid ground, but it sure beat a gondola for stability.

  Upstairs he shrugged out of his heavy clothes into pyjamas and listened as Naomi drew a bath and changed into nightclothes. To his surprise and delight, she emerged from the bathroom smelling like her perfume and wearing a silky black slip that was definitely not intended for sleeping in. Ap
parently she’d forgotten all about calling home promptly each evening, and once she’d climbed into bed he forgot all about it too.

  Later that night he woke up for no reason, startled out of a dream, or maybe hearing some noise outside the hotel. He got up quietly and went to the bathroom to get a drink of water, and when he came back he lay propped up on one elbow, studying his wife.

  For the first time in over a year, she seemed totally at peace, breathing softly, her hair spread out over the pillow.

  It was a good idea to come here, he thought, satisfied, as he curled up next to his wife. They hadn’t had so much quality time together since the baby came, and he thought it was worth every moment spent in those darn boats.

  A feeling of extreme contentment spread through him as he listened to Naomi’s soft breathing, and he eased himself carefully back under the blankets to cuddle up next to her, drifting away to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  When Sunday morning dawned cold and overcast, with a chance of snow, Scott knew at once that his chances of getting Rachel to take a scenic gondola ride were probably low.

  After the crowds, the disastrous dinner, and now with the cold, it was obvious her excitement at visiting Venice was waning. She was already talking about what they might do the next weekend at home, discussing the possibility of a movie and drinks with friends, and his heart sank.

  Was he never going to get a chance to propose here?

  But when he asked if she was game for a gondola tour on the Grand Canal, to his surprise, she agreed.“It’ll be cold,”he added, almost as an afterthought, expecting her to change her mind. But she just shrugged and said that she would wear an extra layer of clothing.

  They attended the late morning Mass at St. Mark’s Basilica, as he’d promised they would, and they were not disappointed. The sacred chorale was sung in Italian, and echoing off the gilded domes of the cathedral it sounded otherworldly.

  Scott didn’t know much about Catholicism or how Mass progressed, but he was able to appreciate the obvious meaning behind the service. They emerged onto the steps of the Basilica to a light snow, oversize fluffy flakes drifting down to the stones like tiny down feathers.

  He was more than happy to spend a quiet afternoon at the hotel, and when they left for their evening gondola ride, he made sure Rachel had bundled up in extra thermals and a warm sweater. He didn’t want anything to ruin the night; this was his last big chance to propose before the weekend was over, and nothing would mess it up if he could help it.

  But the line for gondola rides was long, and the gondoliers themselves seemed jaded and in a less-than-cheerful mood. Scott tried to put a positive face on things; Rachel remained silent. The minutes in the queue dragged by, and soon it became apparent that they were going nowhere fast, if they intended to go in a gondola.

  After nearly an hour, they finally secured a free gondola, and Scott sat down next to Rachel with relief. At last, they were underway!

  Rachel tried chatting a bit with the gondolier, switching from English to Italian, but he seemed dismissive and uninterested in making tourist small talk. Finally she gave up, sitting back and snuggling up against Scott to take in the sights.

  The view of the Grand Canal was even more impressive from this vantage point, with views of the buildings and also the side canals and bridges that led off to smaller businesses and homes.

  However, after just a few minutes floating along, their boat came to a halt. The large number of vessels out on the canal for the night had led to a water-locked traffic jam, and now boat traffic was nearly at a standstill as gondoliers and water-taxi drivers shouted and argued with each other.

  Beside him, Rachel was shivering. Scott hugged her a little tighter. This was a terrible idea, he realised, listening to their gondolier mutter to himself in his native language. English or Italian, the tone was the same with a complaint, and it was clear to Scott that the man was not having a good night.

  The ride was supposed to last about forty minutes, though Scott knew he could pay for a longer stretch of time if he wanted. However, by the time the forty minutes were up, it felt as though they’d been in the boat for hours. As soon as the gondolier pulled up at a dock, Rachel nearly bolted out of the boat, and Scott hastily paid the man and followed her.

  From the set of her shoulders and the way she walked, Scott could tell his girlfriend was dejected. He could also tell she was freezing, and when she ducked into a small caféand ordered hot chocolate he asked the waiter to make it two, and followed her to a quiet corner table.

  They sat in silence for a moment, warming their hands on the cups and sipping their drinks without speaking. Scott finally reached out to touch Rachel’s hand.“Babe, I’m so sorry for how this weekend’s been going. Itseems to have just got worse and worse as it went on.”

  “It’s not your fault,”she said gently, wrapping her hands more tightly around the cup to steal its warmth.“I guess I thought Venice would be so much more…magical I guess.”

  “We’ve just had some bad luck, that’s all.” Timidly he asked,“Do you want to try and find something else to do for the evening…maybe sit by that cafe orchestra in Piazza San Marco?”

  Rachel shook her head firmly and she looked sad.“No. The city was fun at first, but like I saidI’m a little…disenchanted by now,”she admitted.“It’s cold, people are in a bad mood, and there are so many tourists. It just isn’t the romantic getaway I thought it would be.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m bummed too,”he admitted. For more reasons than one.

  Rachel drained the last of her hot chocolate.“So while it’s been fun, I think I’m ready to go home.”

  “Me too,”he agreed halfheartedly, even though he didn’t feel the same way. He quickly finished his hot chocolate and they returned to their hotel by the quickest route possible, avoiding the packed Grand Canal.

  In the lobby, Christmas music was playing softly, and Scott took a moment to admire the nativity scene by the front desk. He hadn’t paid it much mind before, but now he thought wistfully of the romantic Christmas breakhe’d planned and how things had run downhill so fast. There didn’t seem to be much for it but to admit defeat and head back home.

  Maybe I can arrange a really romantic proposal back home, he conceded. It won’t be as good as Venice, but it will be better than nothing.

  Scott climbed into bed as quietly as possible, thinking Rachel was already asleep, but to his surprise she rolled over to face him and said quietly,“Remember our first date?”

  Scott was surprised by the question.“How could I forget?”he said, snuggling up to her. He had planned the day for nearly two weeks, down to the restaurant reservation, tickets to a movie starring her favourite actor, and dessert at a local hotspot he knew she’d been dying to try.

  It had taken no small shortage of planning and a considerable chunk of his wallet, but he’d managed to pull off the best first date he could imagine, and Rachel had been delighted.

  Now she rested her head on his arm, closing her eyes.“And remember when you put together that surprise birthday party for me at that new nightclub, and I had no idea you’d invited my best friends because they were all sworn to secrecy?”

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise otherwise,”he protested, and she smiled.

  “You always go to such lengths to make things perfect,”she said sleepily.“But I’m happy just spending time with you. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I guess,”he said reluctantly, nuzzling her cheek.

  She opened her eyes and gave him a wry look.“It’s not, though.”

  “It’s not that,”Scott sputtered, trying to put his feelings into words.“It’s just that…well, I feel like you deserve the best of everything. And I know how much you love Italy, and Venice is supposed to be such a romantic city…and I wanted you to really have the time of your life on this trip. That’s all.”

  “I did have a lot of fun,”Rachel said, rolling over to tuck her back against him. He curled around her, enjoying
the softness of her skin.“But I’ve had fun because I was here with you. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was a five-star trip if I was alone. Everything—the dinners, the bell tower, touring the Basilica—it was all amazing because I was sharing it with you.”

  Scott buried a sigh in her hair.“I’ve had an amazing time with you, too. I just wish I could have created more perfect romantic surprises for you. That was part of the whole point of coming here.”

  “Well,”Rachel said, sounding suspiciously less sleepy,“I have a little romantic surprise of my own …”

  “What’s that?” Scott ran a hand down her side, lingering on her hip, and was surprised when she suddenly pulled his hand around to rest on her stomach.

  “I was going to wait to tell you until we got home. I was surprised you didn’t say something about me skipping the wine and the seafood.”

  For a moment Scott could only stare down at her in shock, and she rolled onto her back, peering up at him in concern.“Babe? Say something. You’re worrying me.”

  Scott racked his brain, thinking of the perfect most romantic thing to say. Instead all he could blurt out was,“I can’t believe you climbed all those stairs in the tower yesterday!”and Rachel started laughing and pulled him down for a kiss.

  Chapter Nine

  On Sunday morning Max and Naomi decided to attend the late morning Mass at St. Mark’s. Max had attended a few Masses as a child and Naomi had attended more than her share throughout her childhood and teens, but there was something different about standing in a cathedral, listening to a carol sung in a foreign language. It gave a person chills, and yet at the same time it was beautiful. The voices of the choir echoed off the domed roofs and filtered back over the assembled worshippers in the pews.

  After the Mass they walked slowly through St. Mark’s Square, under a cloud of softly falling snow. There were fewer tourists out today, and less pigeons due to the weather. Max noticed a young couple of tourists also walking through the Square, and pointed them out to Naomi.“Don’t they kind of remind you of us, before we got married and had Julia?”