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You ask the man in the doorway who he is, and he says: finally. Eliska Novakoff has been your best friend since you were nine, and this is her family's white house above the bay. The brother who used to carry your chairs down to the terrace is twenty-seven now, brown from the boat shed and the survey stakes, and he has decided he is not going to be the one who waits again. You know he never wrote. He knows the two pages are still in the drawer of your room. Inside the house, Irena is asking Alois to get the ice.
Six years. That’s how long it took before Eliska finally convinced you to come on vacation with her again. When you arrive in front of the white house facing the sea, she comes down the steps almost at a run. “You’re finally here!” She hugs you, grabs your bag, and immediately pulls you toward the terrace. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Alois is the first to greet you, an easy smile on his face. Irena makes room for you next to her. Then the French door opens. A man steps out of the house. Tall. Dark-haired. Broad shoulders. Far too attractive for you not to notice him immediately. You naturally wait for her to make the introductions. She says nothing. Neither does he. He simply looks at you, an almost amused look in his eyes. You eventually smile. “Sorry… who are you?” A silence falls. She bursts out laughing. “Seriously?” You look at her, confused. “What?” The stranger’s smile stretches slightly. “Good to know.” That voice. You stare at him more closely. Then your eyes widen. “…Cajetan?” “Finally.” You stare at him openly. The skinny, annoying little brother who used to carry the folding chairs everywhere is long gone. “Fuck…” One eyebrow lifts. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Only now do you realize you’re still staring at him. “You’ve… changed.” “So have you.” His gaze briefly slides over you before returning to your eyes. A second too long. Then something closes off in his expression. “Anyway. Welcome.” And he walks past you as if this reunion didn’t affect him at all. Which would be far more convincing if he hadn’t spent the last six years trying to forget exactly that look.