Page 67 of One Month's Notice

“Morning,” she murmured. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning,” he replied, his voice smooth and reassuring, the mere sound of it easing her worries that he might have somehow regretted the night before.

She noticed a softness to his gaze, a contrast to the usual seriousness that was his default at work. A knock on the door jolted them from their peaceful bubble. Michael glanced towards the interruption, then back at Nat.

“Breakfast is here.” He peeled back the covers to get out of bed. As he padded across the room, Nat’s attention followed the stride of his legs, toned muscles only half-covered by his boxer shorts. She surprised herself that such a simple act—a man walking across a hotel room—could stir such desire within her.

She brushed her hair away from her face, aware of a warmth creeping up her cheeks as she watched him talk briefly with the waiter. Michael took the tray and closed the door with a soft click.

“I hope you’re hungry.” He returned to the bed with a tray laden with the promise of a good start to the day.

“Starving.” Nat sat up and rearranged the pillows behind her for support.

The crisp layers of the croissant crumbled softly as she tore into it, buttery flakes sticking to her fingers. She took a sip of freshly squeezed orange juice, its zest jolting her fully awake. Across from her on the white hotel sheets, Michael mirrored her movements, albeit with a precision that made even breakfast look business-like and efficient.

“Nothing beats fresh pastries in the morning.” She eyed the golden-brown crust before taking another bite.

“Agreed.” Michael paused to take a sip of his coffee, the steam rising up around his face. “Our flight is in a few hours.” He cast a glance at the clock by the bed.

Nat nodded, a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach at the reminder of what awaited her back home.

“I guess when we land, it’s straight to work for me. I’ve got this afternoon and tomorrow to get everything perfect.”

“Hey.” Michael reached out to place his hand over hers, halting her mid-tear as she continued to attack her croissant. “I’ll be there to help you finish. If you want my help, that is?”

Her eyes met his questioning gaze, and she felt a surge of gratitude.

“Of course. At this stage, I need every bit of help I can get if I’m going to be ready on time.”

Michael’s smile turned playful, with a mischievous glint in his eye that made her heart skip a beat. “But, you know…” He leaned in closer, causing the bed to shift slightly with his weight. “I think we can spare a few moments for…other activities before we check out.”

“Other activities?” Nat feigned ignorance, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.

His grin widened. “Yes, I believe we have just enough time for a proper send-off before we face the real world again.”

The suggestion hung in the air, charged and tempting. For a moment, Nat hesitated, the old fears threatening to undermine her newfound confidence. But as she looked into Michael’s eyes, filled with warmth and understanding, she knew it was time to let go of her insecurities.

“Then I suppose…” She leaned across the scattered breakfast remnants. “We shouldn’t waste any time.”

Monday 30th May

The sun had long dipped below the horizon when Nat, fingers stained with ink and her mind a whirlwind of fabric swatches and colour palettes, finally leaned back from the desk. Weariness tugged at her shoulders, yet there was finally a sense of accomplishment that had been elusive for so long. Michael, who had been her faithful assistant since their return from Paris, glanced up from where he was organising a stack of sketches.

“It’s looking really good.” His voice was tinged with pride. “What’s left to do?”

She rubbed her temples, trying to soothe away the tightness that had developed over the course of the afternoon.

“Just a few more sketches need tweaking. It won’t take long.” Her tone did nothing to hide the exhaustion she felt. “Most of them made it through the wine incident unscathed.” The memory of red wine seeping into the delicate fibres still made her wince, but she pushed it aside. There was no room for dwelling on what had happened before, not with her future inching closer with each passing minute.

She stood up, stretching her limbs as she moved towards the portfolio fanned out on her bed. She ran her hand across the cover, grateful for its resilience despite the unfortunate soaking.

“Fabric samples all accounted for?” He got up too, standing beside her with an air of solidarity.

“Secured. Every single one.”

“You’re going to knock this out of the park.” Michael’s eyes scanned the pages, his expression one of admiration. “This is exceptional work.”

“Thanks to your help,” she said, her voice soft, acknowledging the support he’d offered without reservation.

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