Leah ordered Mara eggs on Friday morning, which made telling her about the sex feel like an unnecessary provocation before breakfast.
“I might have wanted something else,” Mara said.
“You always want eggs here.”
“I've had fruit.”
“You can have both.”
Leah set a cup down opposite her and smiled, warm and tired. Mara sat. Her sister wore a white shirt she'd borrowed from Daniel, the cuffs folded back, and her sunglasses were on the table instead of her face. Mara liked the sight enough to delay the thing she'd come to say.
“That's nice,” she said, pointing to the shirt.
“Daniel's.”
“I thought so.”
“Mine's damp. We went in the pool again last night.”
“Good night?”
Leah nodded. “We found Freya and Kit trying to decide whether a cocktail could count as pudding.”
“Did it?”
“Several did.”
Mara laughed. Leah looked at her, then at the cup in her hands.
“You look rested.”
“Not exactly.”
Leah's expression altered.
Mara took a breath. “I slept with Theo.”
Her sister was silent for a moment. Behind them, somebody laughed loudly at another table. A waiter carried a plate past, the smell of hot bread going with it. Mara wanted both the noise and the smell to stay long enough for her to become less interested in Leah's face.
“Last night?” Leah asked.
“Yes.”
“Right.”
“It was very good.”
“I haven't asked for a rating.”
Mara put her cup down. “I know. Sorry.”
“Are you back together?”
“No.”
“Does he know that?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“Leah.”
Her sister rubbed the bridge of her nose. Mara watched the movement, the small place where the sunglasses had pressed yesterday, and felt angry at being made to report an adult night as if it were an exam she might have misunderstood.
“I'm telling you because you're my sister,” she said. “Not because I need a decision.”
“I know.”
“We wanted to.”
“I believe you.”
“Then can you stop looking as if I've broken something you left in my care?”
Leah looked up quickly. Mara heard the edge in her own voice and wished she hadn't needed it.
“I spent six weeks with you,” Leah said. “Making the calls, coming round, answering people who thought you were being difficult because you didn't want to marry someone who wanted children.”
“I know. I was there.”
“And now I've spent most of this holiday watching your face every time his mother says something. Which is my choice. I know that too. But I am allowed to be tired.”
Mara sat back. The eggs arrived between them. Leah thanked the waiter. Mara did too, a second later.
For a while they ate.
The eggs were excellent. Mara disliked that they remained excellent during a conversation she couldn't arrange into something happier. She cut a piece of toast too small, balanced egg on it and lost half of it back onto the plate.
“It wasn't a mistake,” she said.
Leah's fork stopped.
“I'm not saying you said it was. I just don't want it to become one by the time we've finished breakfast.”
Her sister put the fork down. “All right.”
“Nothing changed about the reason. I still don't want children. He still does. We said it. Then we went to bed.”
Leah looked toward the lower terrace. A woman there was arguing cheerfully with a man about the number of coffees they'd ordered. Mara wished the whole conversation at their table could be something as easy to repeat.
“I like him,” Leah said.
“I know.”
“I liked him yesterday. He's funny. Daniel likes him. He makes my sister happy in quite a lot of ways, which is a very irritating fact.”
Mara felt her mouth move, nearly a smile.
“I'd like you to be happy,” Leah continued. “I'd like that to require less supervision. From me. Not because you can't look after yourself.”
“You could go and do something.”
Leah turned back toward her. “Thank you. I hadn't considered that.”
Mara closed her eyes for a second.
“That sounded awful.”
“Yes.”
“I meant I don't need you here every minute.”
“I know. Except when you do.”
Mara looked at the toast. There had been nights she'd asked Leah to come and nights she'd asked her not to come and then called because the empty flat was more frightening than she'd expected. Leah had done both kinds of visit, packed food, sat on the floor while Mara sorted things she hadn't realized Theo regarded as his until she'd found him avoiding an argument about them. Her sister had been there for the expensive, stupid calls. She had laughed. She had not made Mara defend her no.
“I'm sorry,” Mara said.
Leah reached across and squeezed her wrist once.
“I don't need you to be sorry for having a good night.”
“That's nice, because I'm not.”
Her sister laughed reluctantly. Mara laughed too. There was still something between them which they hadn't moved out of the way, but they could eat with it there.
Daniel arrived before they finished. He wore a T-shirt and carried sunglasses in one hand, car keys in the other. He kissed Leah's head, then Mara's, and looked at the remaining toast.
“May I?”
Leah moved her plate toward him. He took a piece, folded it in half and ate standing, a habit Mara recognized from men arriving where somebody else had ordered food.
“I've got the car,” he said.
Leah looked at the keys.
“Today?”
“That was the Friday we've been discussing.”
“Yes.”
“I can wait while you get things.”
She looked at Mara. Mara tried to make her face an uncomplicated invitation to enjoy herself. It didn't seem to work.
“I'm going to arrange dinner tonight,” she said. “A proper last evening before tomorrow gets enormous.”
Daniel nodded, waiting.
“Somewhere beautiful,” Mara added. “I thought everybody could come.”
“We might be out,” he said.
“You could come back.”
Leah looked down at her plate. Daniel remained standing, holding the last small piece of toast.
“We could,” he said. “I'd like to see what we want when we're there.”
Mara found she had no graceful answer. She smiled and said of course, which sounded like the answer a hostess gave somebody who had failed to accept a very good invitation.
Leah pushed her chair back. “I'll come to the room in a minute.”
Daniel kissed her again, this time on the mouth. She leaned toward him. Mara looked at her coffee until they'd finished.
“Don't be a minute that becomes an hour,” he said softly.
“I won't.”
He went. Leah watched him go farther than she usually did before returning to the table.
“He's annoyed with me,” she said.
Mara wanted to make a joke. She didn't.
“For coming?”
“For coming and then spending half the week with somebody else.”
“Me.”
“Mostly.”
“You were swimming last night.”
Leah smiled. “We were. It was lovely. I'd like more of that.”
Mara nodded. She could see the open-top car from here only as a possibility, sun on a road, her sister's face turned toward her husband instead of watching for another small crisis beside Mara. She wanted Leah to have it. She also wanted her at dinner. The two wants didn't join as neatly as she'd assumed when she began planning the day.
“Don't wait for me tonight,” Leah said.
“We haven't booked anything.”
“I mean don't make it something I have to hurry back to.”
“All right.”
Leah picked up her sunglasses and put them on, then lifted her bag from the empty chair. Mara stood with her. They hugged, and Leah held her a little longer than she'd expected.
“I'm glad it was good,” her sister said quietly.
Mara nodded against her shoulder.
“I still want you to come home as yourself.”
“I will.”
Leah let go. “Good. Now I'm going to be somebody else's wife for a few hours.”
Mara watched her cross the terrace. Daniel was waiting near the steps. He had put the keys in his pocket. When Leah reached him, he said something Mara couldn't hear, and she laughed with her face turned fully toward him.
Back at the table, Mara finished her coffee. She thought about last night, Theo's breath against her neck, the light changing while he'd carried in the glasses, the foolish immense pleasure of finding him beside her when she woke.
Then she took out her phone and wrote to Freya about dinner. Something lovely, she said. A final proper holiday evening before the party.
Freya replied with enthusiasm and a question about the time. Mara smiled, already seeing a long table with the right people, good food and Theo close enough to add the next line.