‘I got a marketing email,’ she says.
‘You did, did you?’
‘Yeah…and a very insistent, strongly worded email from two past retreat customers who said it was very important that I should come,’ she explains.
‘Oh, I think I might know them,’ I say.
‘And I thought, how could I resist? It would be a good chance to experiment with oils. I do love art,’ she tells me.
‘Well, you’re in the right place. We had an artist come through here some months ago. Really talented. She left some drawings and sketches for us and we have them framed on display in the villa.’
She stops for a moment. ‘You do?’
‘I do. They were a lovely reminder of her stay. She was a really remarkable guest.’
‘How so?’ she whispers, still standing away from me.
‘She was sweet, warm – someone who just radiated so many lovely qualities. I was very drawn to her energy, her laughter, her authenticity. She was beautiful in so many ways. And when she was gone, I felt it in a way I didn’t think imaginable. Like something, someone was missing. And I’ve missed her every day since.’
‘But you told her to go,’ she says.
‘Because she got a fancy new job. I didn’t want her to stay because of me.’
‘She sounds like a grown-up. Maybe she could have made that decision for herself,’ she says, tilting her head curiously.
I hold her gaze. ‘Yeah, I really fucked that up big time.’
Chloe pauses. I’ve imagined this moment many times. I envisioned it clothed, without chlorinated water dripping off my hair, but to do this pretty much naked feels apt. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever been so honest or selfish with my feelings.I want her. Every part of her. In my life. For as long as she’ll have me.
‘She sounds very cool,’ Chloe says. ‘I hope I can match that guest’s energy.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ I reply. ‘She was also very into melon.’
‘I like melon,’ she says, laughing.
‘That’s good.’
I walk up to her and gently take off her sunglasses. Tears are forming in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. I wipe them away and cradle her face, looking at her.
‘Hi,’ she whispers.
‘Hi,’ I reply. She smiles and I bend down to kiss her, every cell remembering this feeling, cheering me on, ecstatic that she’s here, next to me. I can’t describe the warmth of that kiss. How in an instant she feels like home. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t normally get this excited around retreat guests,’ I say.
She laughs. ‘It’s fine. The last retreat I went to I got attacked by ants. All over my face.’
‘Really?’ I ask. She looks up to the house, a smile on her face. ‘Did you complain?’
‘I gave the place a five-star review on Google. The owner won me over.’
‘Oh. He must have been very charming,’ I reply.
‘He was. Incredibly handsome, kind, dripping in empathy, sensitivity. One of those rare golden people who open up the world and make it seem brighter, better.’
I feel a tear run down my cheek. ‘And was he hot?’ I ask, trying to style it out.
‘He was perfect. You should have seen hiscroquembouche,’ she says.
‘Was it big?’ I ask. ‘Majestic?’
