Sleeping In
Rome slept in late the next day. So relieved was he to be done with the robot movie that he determined not to set his alarm and to just wake up whenever he wanted to. It was a freeing feeling, one he knew wouldn’t last forever, but at least he could enjoy it for a day or two.
When he finally opened his eyes, the sunlight was already pouring into the bedroom window, and Ella was gone, her side of the bed cold. He looked around, wondering where she might be, and checked the clock. It was almost 11:00.
“Wow, I certainly know how to sleep in,” he mumbled to himself before rocketing to the restroom. His bladder wasn’t used to such a late wake up call.
Once he was finished, he slipped a pair of shorts on over his boxers and went looking for his wife. He knew Lenore was likely in the kitchen, probably making lunch at this point, and he didn’t want to alarm her by walking into the room wearing only his underwear. He’d made that mistake once before and nearly given the sweet woman a heart attack.
It wasn’t Lenore he found in the kitchen but Ella. She was standing in front of the stove, the scent of melted butter registering with him as he walked up behind her to see what she was doing. Slipping his arms around her waist, he kissed her neck. “What are you making, wifey poo?” he asked, sliding his hands beneath her T-shirt but not roaming high enough to distract her from what was obviously a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches.
“I was hoping you were going to wake up in time for lunch,” she said, turning to kiss him. Letting go of her perfect lips before she burned the sandwiches was nearly impossible, but he found a way. “Do you want to take these down to the beach? It’s been a long time since we sat with our toes in the sand and just did nothing.”
“Now that sounds wonderful,” he admitted. “You don’t have work to do?”
She shrugged, and he let go of her, taking a step away so that the sandwiches didn’t go to waste and her plan wasn’t spoiled. He’d much rather carry her back to the bedroom, but it seemed like she had a plan, and he didn’t want to mess it up. Besides, there would be plenty of time for that later.
“I always have work to do,” she said with a sigh. “But… today is your first day off. I figure we may as well make the most of it. Besides, I doubt you’ve checked your phone yet, but you might want to. I think there might be a reason to celebrate.”
Rome was leaning against the counter next to the stove. He hadn’t even picked up the device off of his nightstand, he’d been in such a hurry to see her. “What’s that?”
Ella rolled her eyes and removed the sandwiches from the heat, flipping them onto a plate to cool. “The awards announcements, silly. You slept right through it.”
“Oh, shit. That’s today?” He scratched his head, likely messing up his hair, but today, it didn’t matter.
With a giggle, Ella said, “Uh, yeah. How do you forget something like that?” Rome shrugged. He had been trying so hard not to get his hopes up, he’d put it completely out of his mind. “Well, I’m guessing you have a couple of hundred calls to return, and I’m guessing Marge has left at least fifty voicemails.”
“Why is that?” Rome steeled himself, not wanting to surmise anything from what she was implying. Why would his agent be calling so frequently, and other people as well, unless…?
Again, Ella was laughing. She stepped over to him and rested one warm palm against his chest. The feel of her skin against his, her gentle touch, was just the distraction he didn’t need if he was going to sort out what she was getting at. “Do you want me to tell you, or would you like to look for yourself?”
“Tell me,” he breathed, lost in her dark eyes. “What is it, El?”
With a wide grin on her beautiful face, she said, “Best supporting actor.”
All the clues had been there, and he’d pieced it together before she spoke, but hearing the words was enough to cause his mouth to drop open. “Seriously?” It seemed impossible, unreal, that he’d finally been nominated, after nearly a dozen movies and not so much as a blink from the academy--especially in light of the disaster he was about to unleash upon the world. “Really?”
“Congratulations, babe,” Ella whispered, leaning in for another kiss. Her mouth tasted like honey. He could’ve held her all day. But Ella pulled away. “Go, check your phone. Call Marge, and let’s forget the world for a couple of hours. You can call everyone else back later.”
“Right,” he said, remembering she had a plan.
“Oh, and Mr. Academy Award Nominee, can you get the picnic basket down from the top shelf in the pantry before you go?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.
Rome grinned. He might be nominated for an important award, but at the moment, he was just her husband. “Shorty,” he teased, stepping into the adjoining food closet to get the requested item. He extended it to her, and Ella reached for it, but rather than giving it to her, he pulled it back. She narrowed her eyes at him. Rome set the basket on the counter and pulled her close to him, breathing her in. “I love you, shorty.”
“I love you, too,” she said. Her hand slid up his chest, fingers flickering against his neck, until her lips were on his. Those grilled cheese sandwiches were going to get cold.
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