Marcus and Dana had not seen Evan and Priya in almost two years. Life had a way of doing that, busy schedules, a cross-country move, the kind of drift that happened even between people you had shared something extraordinary with. But when Priya texted saying they had rented a lake house in the Carolinas for a long weekend and wanted company, Dana responded before she had even thought about it. We will be there Friday. Now it was Saturday evening, the four of them on the wraparound porch with glasses of rose going soft in the summer heat. The fireflies were coming out over the water. I keep thinking about the Scottsdale trip, Priya said. That terrible hotel bed. Remember? The one that squeaked. Dana laughed really laughed. I remember Evan trying to be quiet about it and failing spectacularly. Inside the kitchen was dim and cool. Priya set the bottle on the counter and turned to Dana without preamble, cupping her face with both hands, and kissed her, slow and certain, the kind of kiss that had two years of wanting folded into it. Dana pulled her closer and kissed back with the same slow certainty. I have missed you, Priya said. I noticed. Priya walked her backward toward the living room couch and Dana went willingly. The men followed inside. Marcus leaned in the doorframe watching. Evan came to stand beside him. Then Marcus crossed the room and sat beside Dana, and Evan went to Priya, and the evening rearranged itself. What Dana loved about full swaps was the way it required absolute trust as its foundation. She trusted Marcus completely, and that trust was what made space for everything else. Later they were loose-limbed and sprawled across the sectional, the porch door still open and the night sounds coming in off the lake. I feel closer to you, Dana said. Same time next year? Priya asked. Let us not wait a year, Dana said. The fire had burned low and all four of them agreed.
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