in the morning light [g.r]

one - italy

George was smirking, duffle over his shoulder and eyes wandering over the scene before him before they rested upon Abi. The pair had done well to avoid each other, not speaking the few times they had seen each other in the paddock, neither going out of their way to find the other and catch up. But now, George was on her doorstep, looking as beautiful as ever.

"Hi." He smiled, opening his arms for a hug. Abi was hesitant, though tippy toed into his arms and held him close. It had been too long, too long without arms to fall asleep in, too long without being kissed, too long without having someone to call hers. George had been the last person to come close - she hadn't want to find anyone else. Instead, she just needed time. Time to recover and move on, time to focus on her career. As George hugged her, warm breath against the top of her head, she was taken back to a place she had not been in almost eighteen months. Her stomach swirled, ached, and she had to pull away. "You look amazing." Abi smiled, nodded, and didn't know how to react.

"Come in," She said softly, stepping to one side so he could enter, the door then shutting behind them. She clutched the handle, staring at the wood as conversation began behind them. She could cry. She looked back to her friends, watched as they wandered into the kitchen and looked out the patio doors to her vast garden, the flowers and bushes tumbling out to the vineyards that scraped the horizon. "Not a bad view is it." Abi smiled as she joined them, admiring the sight. She didn't appreciate it enough, appreciate the contrast to her grey view back in Cirencester, the calm sight the polar to her hectic life.

"It's gorgeous! Is it hard to make wine? Have you tried?" Rachel asked, turning to look at her friend. "I bet it's incredible. Will we be able to make some?" Abi laughed, going to one of the cupboards and retrieving a bottle of red, placing it on the island. She was sure as hell going to need it to get through this strange surprise.

"I've never made wine, no, but this is the stuff they make with the grapes. Devon gets lost in the fields sometimes so I've become quite friendly with the owners." She laughed, looking for a set of matching wine glasses.

"Devon?" George asked, eyes then on the small white Spitz that scampered into the room, almost upon command. "Oh my, he's adorable." The dog approached the strangers cautiously, not daring to paw at them, instead prancing over their feet before returning to his owner's side.

"He's so sweet! Like a marshmallow!" Dani gasped as she crouched down and watched the dog as he wandered up and down the kitchen tiles. "How long have you had him? He's not a puppy, right?"

"He's four," Abi answered, pouring their wine and then placing the bottle in the glass bin. "He belonged to the couple who used to live here. They couldn't get a pet passport for him when they moved to South Africa so they let me adopt him." She smiled, crouching down to give him a gentle scratch behind the ear. Her eyes wandered up to George as Rich passed him his glass of wine, soon finding his eyes meeting hers, Abi's cheeks flushing.

Whilst chatter continued about the delicious wine and fluffy dog, the rolling hills of the Italian countryside and the glorious weather that crowned the view, Abi's attention was elsewhere. She was back in Somerset, back in the jagged rocks where she had broken up with George. Why was he here? The thought pained her, making her furrow her brow as she zoned out of the conversation she should have been a part of. She drank her wine, fiddling with her bra strap nervously, it digging into the cut of her collar a little too uncomfortably. It didn't normally feel that, perhaps she was just noticing the little annoyances to distract her from the rather large annoyance that stood two feet away from her.

Abi suggested they made their way out to the patio, opening the doors and watching Devon rush off into the garden to explore as he did every time he was allowed outside, the five of them sitting around the metal table, bright violet paint chipped and tablecloth rain stained. The pergola they sat below had protected it rather well during the Spring storms, now sprouting with lilac and yellow flowers, vines curling and looping the woodwork and hanging below, shading them from the bright afternoon sun. Abi slipped her sunglasses on, sat at the head of the table with a polite smile as Rachel and Dani updated her on all of the gossip. George and Rich remained quiet, in their own conversations, uncaring at what the women were discussing over their glasses of wine. Abi remained bamboozled by their sudden appearance; there was out of the blue and then there was this.