Chapter 7I awoke to noise in the kitchen. Cindy was up and preparing something for breakfast. I got up, dressed and went to the kitchen. Cindy, without looking up from cutting fruit, asked in a voice that was still tense, “Would you make the coffee?”
“Ok,” I said.
I was just finishing two cappuccinos when she passed by with two plates, each with a croissant, some fruit, and cheese. She was going out to the terrace. I turned and followed behind with the coffees.
It was a beautiful morning; the sun was up and the air had an early morning coolness. We sat and ate without a word. Cindy was holding her coffee close to her face with both hands, looking over the top of the cup and staring at the view. She finally spoke. “You didn’t come to bed last night.”
Trying to lighten the mood, I replie
