“When we were here last year,” Dominic said, “remember the café orchestras that played here in the evenings?” Though the cafes in question, situated right on the edge of the square were long closed by now. “We danced in the piazza. Remember?”
Lucy nodded. They were surrounded by tourists, but it had felt like they were the only two people there.
Dominic took her hand and gently led her out into the square, and they began slowly waltzing in place to an imaginary orchestra. “I think we should have a tradition,” he whispered in her ear. “We should come back here every winter, or as many winters as we can possibly manage. And we should visit our padlock on the bridge, and dance here in the square, and eat fried doughnuts until we burst.”
“That sounds good to me,” Lucy said dreamily, snuggling into his coat. She suppressed a yawn, and Dominic hugged her. “Aw, you’re tired. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
“I’m not that tired,” Lucy started to protest, but a jaw-cracking yawn cut her off, and she admitted sheepishly that she was ready to drop.
Back at the hotel Dominic sat gingerly on the foot of her bed. “How soon are you flying home?”
“I’m supposed to go tomorrow,” she said, shucking her boots and coat.
“Do you think you could change the flight?”
“I’d imagine so. Why?”
He got to his feet, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Because I have a few days off, and we’re here in the most romantic city in the world, and I think we should make the most of it.”
“I like the sound of that.” Lucy looked at him speculatively. “Are you going to stay? Here, tonight, I mean?”
“Are you inviting me?”
In response she smiled and scooped up her pyjamas from her open suitcase.
“Tell me if I need these,” she asked coquettishly.
Without another word, Dominic took them from her hands and dropped them back into the suitcase, pulling her down on the bed next to him.
“I guess that would be a no then,” Lucy said, smiling as she kissed him, and reached to flick off the lamp.
