The Honeymooners

Five. Hikes and chubby cheeks

The mud squelches under my Wellington boots, and I avoid pulling a disgusted face knowing Enzo is watching my every move. We are currently in Robyn Hoods Bay walking the R.H.B trek in what feels like a twenty-mile long field. In a British summer, you can learn to expect rain. It's a given with the unpredictability of our seasons, and last night didn't disappoint. I stayed awake for a few hours listening to the sounds of it thrash against the B&B windows, while my husband slept soundly beside me.

It relaxes me to think I'm safe inside a warm building, cuddled up to my personal heater - Enzo gives the best snuggles.

"Come on, Am, we'll end up leaving you behind," Enzo says, giving me a hurry your ass up gesture with his hand.

I try not to skid on the wet grass and speed up my pace, seeing all the professional walkers using their sticks for leverage. "I'm slipping all over."

Enzo glances down at me. "I said you should have bought the boots instead of wellies. I knew this would happen."

"It's fine," I say, hurting my knees with having to brace them. "I'll get used to it in a minute."

Enzo holds his hand out towards me, and I take it, knowing he won't let me fall. "Isn't the outside beautiful? It reminds me so much of being a kid."

As a child, Enzo lived in the rural area of Nidderdale which is situated just outside of Harrogate. It's a quiet place with old stone buildings and an abundance of green land and forest. When Enzo drove me through it for the first time, I thought I was on the set of Emmerdale Farm. It's where he wants us to settle down eventually, but I'm happy with our London city lifestyle.

"I bet you used to go on walks like these all the time."

Enzo nods. "We did. I remember my mum taking us on the Yorkshire Dales for a picnic in the summer holidays because my dad was out working the land from dawn til dusk. I have no clue how the guy still does it."

"Once a farmer always a farmer, I guess," I smile, feeling him squeeze my hand.

"Yeah," he replies.

I glance down his body and feel confused by his outfit choice. Enzo usually dresses in jeans and jumpers, but today he's in tracksuit bottoms and a hoody. It's a designer one, mind you, but it still unsettles me. I mentioned it to him this morning, and he answered me with a snob comment.

I am far from a snob.

It interested me why he had a sudden change in fashion sense, is all.

"Is the tracksuit keeping you warm?"

Enzo narrows his eyes. "Don't start. it's comfortable."

I widen my eyes. "I'm not starting anything. It was a genuine question."

"I can see the dislike in your eyes," he chuckles, watching my face.

My foot drags back a touch in the mud, and I feel my hip lock. Ouch. "You are making things up in your head. You are the boss of what you wear, not me."

"Oh? So, you wouldn't mind me to wear these all the time?"

I use my other hand to grip onto his elbow. "I didn't say you can wear them all the time."

"Weekends then?" he smirks.

"Nighttime when we are lounging around the house, and maybe on a Sunday afternoon, but no other time," I respond, imagining the looks we'd get on our usual Sunday Brunch at The Ritz.

"Noted," he speeds up his pace when the other walkers power walk up a hill.

"Did you manage to get hold of your parents?" I say, thinking about what we can get for our lunch.