Two Weeks Later
Todayisthefinalday of tour.
Avonna and I are done for the summer, heading home to Dublin tomorrow.
This morning she wears nothing but my T-shirt, sipping a lemon spritz on the edge of the bed with her legs folded beneath her. Outside the window, Milan is a frenzy of horns and chaos.
Up here, it’s quiet. Golden.
Avonna doesn’t talk much before shows. She lets it all come out on stage. All the fire, all the vulnerability. It needs to simmer first, steep in silence, before she burns theworld down.
Lately, though, she’s lit up in a different way. The glow we have for each other is steady. Over the summer it’s widened to include something we both feel coming.
Someone.
“He watched the whole set again.” She drags her fingertip along the condensation on her glass. “Same spot, arms crossed, trying to look casual. He doesn’t even hide anymore.”
I crack a smile. “Liam’s never been casual a day in his life.”
“No.” She looks off into the distance. “He watches me like he’s trying to memorize every note. Every word.”
She sets her glass down. Comes to sit beside me. I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my lap.
I already know what she’s going to say.
“We need to tell him.”
Not a question. Or a warning. It’s an understanding.
“It started with a few lyric swaps, but it’s turned into something wild.” She nestles into my neck. “Every time we create it’s like a detonation in my chest. I’ve never felt this kind of creative synchronicity with anyone. We were meant to write together.”
I absorb this. I’ve seen it, too. Their sessions, how they linger afterward. The energy flickering between them, growing louder.
She takes a breath. “It’s starting to feel manipulative when he doesn’t know about us. Who we are to each other. How much he’s been in our plans when we dream about the life we want. He’s a fantasy in the bedroom with us nearly every night now. I think he senses it on some deep level, but he hasn’t asked.”
“He doesn’t want the answer,” I say.
“Exactly. I’m convinced if he knew I was with you, he’d run.” She strokes my cheek. “Not out of spite. Out of guilt. He’d think he’d ruin everything. So, imagine when he finds out we’re married.”
“We’re walkin’ a fine line,” I admit.
Avonna shifts to straddle me. “He’s falling for me, Linus. I know he’s attracted. I am too, but this isn’t a breathless, infatuated thing. He’s…opening. Letting himself be seen. Emotionally. Like he wants someone else other than you and his brother to finally know him.”
“It’s huge,” I murmur into her hair. “Liam’s already halfway in, even if he doesn’t know what to call it. He’s never let anyone see his soft parts but me.”
“I know.” She caresses the back of my head. “It’s why we need to tell him before this goes any further.”
I shift her in my lap. “You think he’ll stay once he finds out?”
“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I’m afraid if he learns the truth later, from someone else…”
“Then it’s over before it starts.”
She nods. “I’ve been careful. I haven’t lied. But neither of us have told the truth. Emotions are involved now. I don’t want to continue without full transparency.”
“Neither do I.” I trace my thumb over her knuckles. “I’ve stayed away on purpose so you and he… I’ve never stopped wanting him. Every time he walks into a room, somethin’ in me lights up. My body reacts before my brain catches up. He looks at me, and I feel like I’m nineteen again.”
She watches me closely, fascinated.
