The Weekend at the Villa – Part 2: Daylight

In daylight, the lake looked calm and ordinary, and the villa was just a villa again. Ava woke early, wrapped herself in a towel, and found Max already on the terrace, two cups of coffee steaming on the table in front of him.

"You didn't sleep either," she said.

"I slept for an hour. I dreamed about a boat that wouldn't stop sinking."

"That sounds like a metaphor."

"I'm an architect. Everything is a metaphor." He pushed a cup towards her. "Sit down, Ava. Let's be sensible."

She sat. He didn't smile, but his eyes were warm.

"I've been in love with you for six years," Max said, plainly. "On and off. Mostly off, because you were always with someone else, and I thought that was the end of it. Then last night, Ben said what he said, and I realised I'd been hiding the same thing."

Ava's throat tightened. "You never said anything."

"I'm saying it now. You don't have to say anything back."

"I know," she said. "But I want to."

Ben and Lena came out a few minutes later, hair wet from the pool, Lena wearing Ben's shirt and looking unbothered by it.

"Good morning," said Lena. "Did you all have a nice discussion about your feelings?"

"Yes," said Max.

"No," said Ava, at the same time.

Ben sat down heavily. "I don't know how to do this," he admitted. "I've never been in a room with three people who knew about me before I knew about them."

"Then we go slowly," said Lena. She took his hand under the table. "We talk. We decide. Nothing happens unless everyone says yes out loud."

"Agreed," said Ava. "Written down, if we have to."

They spent the morning on the terrace with a notebook and a jug of lemon water, writing a short agreement in four different handwritings. It covered what they wanted from the weekend, what they didn't, and how to stop if anyone felt uncomfortable at any point, without anyone being punished for it. Max drew a small lake in the margin. Lena added a rule about no secrets before breakfast.

By the time they finished, the sun was high over the water and the terrace smelled of lemons.

"We're going to be fine," Ben said, looking at the notebook with a cautious, hopeful smile.

"We're going to be honest," said Ava. "That's better."

Later that afternoon she found herself alone with Max at the edge of the pool, both of them with their feet in the cool water.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

"Yes," said Ava. "Slowly. And you stop if I say."

"Always."

He kissed her, gently, like a man setting something precious down carefully on a table. She kissed him back, and the lake shimmered, and somewhere behind them Lena's laugh rang out from the terrace, bright and unbothered.

When they came up for air, Ben was standing at the top of the steps, watching them both with an expression that was half envy, half relief.

"Come on," said Lena, from behind him. "We've still got a lake to swim in, and I want to see you both fail spectacularly at floating."

They laughed, and went in together, all four of them, into the cold, bright water.