Short, I'm sorry. Will try and update soonish.
He slept intermittently.
So did she.
When he slept, she watched him. Watched his strong shoulders, his furrowed face, his clenched jaw; watched the soft blond hairs on his arm; watched his naked chest rise and fall.
When she slept, he watched her. Watched her face still thoughtful in repose; her brow still knotted as though unpicking problems in her dreams. He did not look at her bare shoulder, nor her slender arm; nor did he notice her warm welcoming, fresh, delicate scent; nor the curl of hair falling across her collar bone; nor the rise and fall of her chest
Both woke tired.
Both woke thoughtful.
Only when she woke, she woke alone.
He was in the kitchen, dressed.
She felt at a disadvantage in a silk dressing gown.
"Morning," he said, stepping forward and kissing her quickly on the cheek.
"I thought I'd do breakfast," she said, "but you've beaten me to it."
"And what would Helen have made us?"
She pondered but only for a moment, "Muesli, yoghurt and fruit."
"Precisely," he smiled, producing a plate of egg, bacon and white toast, "This however will set us up for the day."
He placed the plates on the table, nodding to her to grab the salt and pepper.
"Sleep well? he asked.
"Yes, very well. You?"
"Absolutely," he replied.
And thus their day began: began with a lie. A day built on lies; a lie that became less of a lie and more a beginning.
Though neither knew it.
At least not right now.