He arrived back from the shop with ice cream, her favourite kind, and a loaf of hot, fresh bread that smelled so good she could not control her toes.
After they had their little feast they would go for a walk on the beach, but not in that distant way that couples often do, but they would do something interesting.
Perhaps they would arrange a few stones and photograph them. Or play Spot-The-Tourist.
He worked in a lab with buzzing computers and flying machines and many mad, mad things, and she knew when he came home that he would have something interesting to tell her. Something fun.
He would disappear into the study for an hour or two. Sometimes before work, sometimes after work, because writing was his dream after all. And it was starting to happen too.
He had a dark side. It came out in his writing sometimes, but it never scared her in the real world.