The three of us were sipping wine and discussing what tourist attractions to take Angela’s family to see when Cecilia joined us.

“Mamá y papá are asleep,” she said. “Is that wine? Can I have a glass?”

I glanced at Angela, and she gave a little nod, so I grabbed a glass from the rack and gave Cecilia a half pour.

“That is not…” she protested, but couldn’t find the right word in time. Angela gave me an ‘it’s O.K.’ look, so I poured a bit more. Still not a full glass, but at least it matched what any of us had in our glasses at the moment.

“Tomorrow, can I see the-” she said, before becoming frustrated with her weak English vocabulary and switching to Spanish. I caught a bit of it, enough to understand that she wanted to see the studio.

“Of course you can,” Angela said. “In the morning, I will give you and los viejos the full tour. I will show you all of the house, and all of the recording studio. Maybe they will be filming or recording music and you can see that, too.”

Satisfied by that, Cecilia sipped her wine, her nose wrinkling a little bit at the unaccustomed flavor. “I like… vino blanco,” she said, taking another sip. “Do you have any that is white?”

Emmy laughed, and said, “Yes, we do. You will see on the tour tomorrow.”

Cecilia smiled, but I don’t think she understood what Emmy had meant.

Angela spoke to Cecilia about Disneyland and Universal Studios, Magic Mountain and Knott’s Berry Farm in Spanish, presumably asking her what she’d like to see. Cecilia responded, mentioning the Hollywood Walk Of Fame and the Santa Monica pier. I thought I also heard Death Valley and the Grand Canyon mentioned, to my amusement.

I definitely heard San Francisco, so I said, “Ange, if they want to go up to San Francisco for a day or two, that’s no problem. They can either stay at the condo, or we can just get them a hotel room in the city. Maybe hire a tour guide to show them around.”

“There is no reason they can’t go to New York, too,” Emmy said. “We have a great tour guide there already.”

“Nueva York?” asked Cecilia. “Me encanta Nueva York!”

“I can’t go,” I said. “But if you guys want…”

Angela looked at Emmy and me with a sort of hopeless expression. “I would hate to go without you,” she said.

“Em, could you go?” I asked.

“I do not see why not,” she said. “But it would need to be the week after this one.”

“I will talk to my mother and father tomorrow,” Angela said. “Maybe they would like to go for a few days.”

I was working the heavy bag in the gym the next morning when the door opened and Angela led her family into our workout room. I stopped the bag’s swing and Angela came over to give me a little good-morning kiss.

“I didn’t hear you get up this morning,” she said.

“You and Em were sleeping pretty soundly,” I replied. “I tried to not wake you.”

“I’m giving them the tour,” Angela said, indicating her folks. Mr Castro was trying to avoid looking at me much, presumably because I was only wearing bike shorts and my racer-back sport bra, but he did look at my hands.

“You do not wear gloves?” he asked, making a hand gesture to indicate he meant thick boxing gloves.

I held up my hands and showed him the wraps, then pointed down at my ankles so he could see they were wrapped, too. “Not usually. Usually I just wear this,” I said.

I glanced over at Mrs Castro while I was talking to her husband and saw her looking me up and down, mentally measuring me in some way. Cecilia, meanwhile, was just looking at me in wide-eyed amazement.

Angela turned around and gestured to the room and spoke in Spanish to her folks. I caught the word, “gimnasio,” but she said a lot more I didn’t catch. As she led her family back out, she gave me another little peck on the lips. Cecilia shyly waved goodbye as they all exited, presumably on to the next stop on the tour. The bottom floor only had the gym, wine cellar, laundry room and garage, so there wasn’t much to see.

Bemused, I returned to my workout and soon enough lost myself in the endorphins, sweat and fatigue.

After my workout I made my way to the kitchen for some ice water, only to find Mrs Castro fussing about, clearly getting ready to cook something.

She looked me up and down again, saying, “You are too thin. Let me cook you some breakfast.”

“Has everyone else eaten?” I asked.

“Two hours past,” she said, glancing up at the wall clock.

“Then I can wait until lunch and eat with everybody,” I said, wiping my face with my towel.

A pinch to my oblique made me jump.

“You need to eat. I will make you a little bit to eat now,” she said, and it was clear the discussion was over. She was going to make me breakfast, and I was going to eat.

“Let me go shower. I’ll be back in a moment,” I said, remembering what Angela had said about nobody telling her mom what to do.

Chuckling to myself in the shower, I washed up quickly.

“Don’t rush- I was enjoying the view,” Angela said as I turned off the water. I turned and gave her a smile, accepting the towel and the kiss she offered me.

“Your mom is making me breakfast,” I said.

“I know,” Angela replied taking the towel from me and drying my hair. “She sent me to get you.”

Satisfied I was dry, Angela wrapped her arms around my middle and kissed my back. She just held me like that for a while, not saying anything. Finally she gave my back another kiss and let go.

I turned around and took her into my arms and gave her a proper kiss, enjoying the feeling of her hands on my bare butt.

“I really should get dressed,” I said, kissing Angela’s forehead.

“Uh huh,” she agreed, making no move to let me go. She rested her head on my chest and said, “But this is too nice.”

I gave her another kiss, then peeled her arms off me. Disappointed, she made her ‘little kid pout’ face at me, the one that I always found irresistible.

“Later, I promise,” I said as I led her into our big walk-in closet. I put on a pair of comfy old jeans and was looking for a bra in my drawer when suddenly I didn’t need one, since a pair of hands were doing a great job of holding my boobs.

“Seriously, babe, I need to get dressed. Your mom is making me breakfast and I don’t want to piss her off,” I said, even though Angela’s attentions had me quite aroused.

“I’ll tell her that I held you prisoner,” came the muffled reply from behind me. “Prisoner of love.”

“Will she think that’s an acceptable reason to miss breakfast?” I asked, doing nothing to remove Angela’s hands. Instead, leaned back against Angela, letting her have her way with my breasts. For a couple of minutes, anyhow, before I finally had to get her to stop so I could finish getting dressed.

Angela’s pout didn’t work quite as well a second time, but it did make me laugh and give her another kiss.

“Where’s Em?” I asked as we made our way upstairs to the kitchen.

“Out in the studio with Lee and Jackson,” she replied. “Cecy went with them, and papá is out walking around the neighborhood.”

Mrs Castro gave Angela and me a scolding glare as we sat down at the kitchen counter.

“You took a long time,” she admonished to both of us.

“When I saw her naked in the shower, I couldn’t help myself,” Angela said, to my surprise. Angela’s mom just laughed at that and smiled.

“I understand,” she said, setting a plate in front of me.

I recognized arepas, but these were fatter than the ones that Angela usually made. Cutting one open, I saw that it was filled with an omelet, basically. Eggs, cheese, and grilled vegetables.

“Wow, this looks amazing,” I said, meaning it.

“Eat!” Mrs Castro commanded, pouring me some orange juice.

I had no problem following her instructions, enjoying the familiar yet still a bit exotic dish.

“That was really good, Mrs Castro,” I said, leaning back when I finished.

She looked at me, then at her daughter, then back at me. “Angela says that she is like a wife to you,” she said at last. “She says that she loves you, and you love her.”

“That’s all very true,” I said, reaching over and taking Angela’s hand. “I love Angela very much.”

“What about Emmy? Your real wife?”

“I consider Angela my real wife also. Unfortunately, legally, we can’t be married, but in my heart, Angela is just as much my real wife as Emmy is. She loves Angela, too, and feels the same way.”

“Mamí, I love both of them. I’m going to be with them the rest of my life,” Angela said. “I never thought I would fall in love with another woman, even less two of them, but this is how it is.”

Mrs Castro was silent for a long moment, looking at her daughter and at me. “So this is real,” she said at last. “You really are in love, and truthfully, it shows,” she said to Angela. “I never saw you this happy with any of your boyfriends before, and you never talked to me about marrying any of them.”

“I am happy- estoy super feliz, mamá. Nunca he sentido como eso antes,” Angela said, slipping into Spanish. She continued on, growing more and more animated she spoke. Finally, she settled back down and said, “I love them. Both of them. They are very different, and I love them as different people, but I do love them so much…” Tears of feeling welled up in her big, blue eyes, so I reached over and wiped her cheek with he pad of my thumb.

“Babe, we love you, too. So much I can’t even say,” I said, then leaned over and kissed her, which she returned, hungrily, with a fiery passion.

When we parted, Mrs Castro said, “I think I understand. It is strange, this relationship you have, but it feels true.”

“It is,” I assured her as Angela shifted over to sit on my lap. “Angela is a treasure beyond compare, and Emmy and I value her more than I could ever say. She makes our lives happier just by being here.”

After breakfast I went up to my office to do a little catching up to get ready for the following week. I had a meeting with a potential client and wanted to be ready for it, so I was deep in the comparables when I heard a voice call up from the staircase.

“Ola? Is anybody there?” Cecilia called as she climbed the steps.

“Come on up,” I replied, glad for the break.

“This is your… oficina?” she asked as she emerged from the stairs into the large, open room.

“My office, yes,” I said as she looked around.

“It is very big,” Cecilia said.

“Yeah, and it’s still pretty empty, too,” I agreed as Cecilia wandered around the room, looking out the windows at the wrap-around view.

Cecilia took a seat on the couch, then layed down, using the arm rest as a pillow.

“Your house is very big,” she said.

“It is,” I agreed. “But Emmy’s parents have several houses much, much bigger than this one.”

“Si?”

“They have a real castle in France,” I confirmed. “You should ask Emmy for pictures of it.”

“Emmy is very nice,” Cecilia said, changing subjects.

“She is. I love her very much.”

“More than Angela?” Cecilia asked.

“I think Angela loves Emmy a lot, too,” I answered, intentionally misunderstanding.

Cecilia thought about what I said, then sat up. “No, more than you love Angela?”

I wasn’t about to play that game, so I replied, “They are different people, and I love the two of them differently because of that. There is no way I could say that I love one of them more than the other.”

Cecilia flopped back down on the couch. “I want to live here. In the United States, I mean,” she said. “Colombia is very boring.”

“I’m not sure the US is any less boring,” I replied. “It might seem that way to you, since it’s new and different, but believe me- life is pretty boring wherever you go.”

Sitting up again, Cecilia said, “It is not boring for you. You have two beautiful women, you drive a race car, you have a mansion here and in Nueva York. Angela said you even played in the Olympic Games!”

“I think you must have misunderstood. I never played in the Olympics,” I replied, looking up from my computer.

“Angela said you did,” Cecilia countered, as if that made it so.

“No, I was asked to try out for the Olympic team, but I never did. I didn’t have the time for it,” I said.

“Hmph,” Cecilia said, crossing her arms. After a little bit, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m working,” I said, wishing it were true.

“It’s Sunday! Why are you working Sunday?”

“I have an important meeting tomorrow and I want to be ready for it.”

“You’re right- that is boring,” Cecilia said, flopping down on the couch again.

I resumed reading, doing my best to ignore the girl playing on her phone, but her constant fidgeting made it difficult. Finally I asked, “Um, Cecilia, if it’s so boring, why are you here with me instead of doing something interesting?”

“Mamá and Angela are talking and don’t want me around, papá is working, too, and Emmy and her friends are listening to the same song over and over again,” she said.

“Can you swim?” I asked. “We have two pools. In the break room we have a pool table for billiards and two pinball machines.”

“Of course I know how to swim,” Cecilia said, offended that I would even consider the possibility that she couldn’t. “But I don’t want to swim by myself. That’s not fun.”

Sighing, I said, “Give me twenty more minutes to finish this, then I’ll swim with you.”

“You will?” she asked, suddenly enthusiastic.

“Sure, why not,” I replied. “But seriously, twenty minutes. Go get ready, get yourself a drink or something.”

“I will be ready,” she said, jumping up off the couch and clattering down the stairs.

Sighing, I got back to my notes. True to my word, after twenty minutes I closed my computer, even though I wasn’t completely finished. Passing through the kitchen, I said hi to Angela and her mom, who were indeed in some sort of heavy conversation in Spanish. I told them I’d promised to swim with Cecilia, and they both just gave vaguely approving nods and noises.

Back in the kitchen after changing into my swimsuit, I found Cecilia waiting, a towel wrapped around her like a sarong.

“You don’t have a… toalla?” she asked, indicating her towel.

“There are towels out there,” I said. “Come on- let’s swim.”

I led Cecilia back down the hallway towards my office, then through a door in the room at the bottom of the tower, which led to the break room.

“This house is crazy,” Cecilia said, surprised by the shortcut.

“It is,” I agreed, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet. “Want a Coke?” I asked, getting myself one from the fridge behind the bar. When she said yes, I grabbed her a can, too. “Help yourself to anything you find in here,” I said. There’s sodas, water, sparkling water… Grab anything you want.”

“Beer?” she asked, hopeful.

“No, no beer,” I said with a laugh. “Nice try, though.”

Following Cecilia out to the lagoon pool, I got my first glimpse of the back of her side-tied bikini bottom when she unwrapped the towel from around her hips- or maybe I should say almost complete lack of back of her bikini. The front had seemed minimal enough, but in back it was basically three strings with a tiny little triangle where they came together. It seemed awfully risqué for a fifteen-year-old, but her mom had seen her in it, so I guess it was O.K. Cecilia was just at that difficult age where she wasn’t actually a young woman yet, but she wasn’t a little kid, either. She had enough curves to catch the eye, but was still more coltish than anything.

In the pool, she was definitely a little kid. We swam and splashed, laughing and goofing around for a while. It was nice, just playing like that, forgetting about work for a while.

We were lounging on the deck chairs and sipping our Cokes when Angela came out to see how we were doing. Satisfied that things were fine, she gave me a kiss and left to go back inside. I noticed Cecilia frowning at Angela’s back as she walked away, but didn’t give it much thought.

It didn’t take too long before Cecilia jumped back in and called out for me to join her. She had moved out towards the middle of the pool, so I set my Coke down and looked at the angles, then took a running jump and leapt, cannonballing just right to completely inundate her in a tsunami of Leah proportions.

“Oh, no me digas!” she yelled as I surfaced. She swam to the side and then did her best to get revenge on me, but she couldn’t possibly achieve the same levels of splashitude. She tried a second time with similar inconsequential effect. Frustrated, she quickly climbed out again, causing me to gasp in surprise.

Standing on the edge of the pool, Cecilia glanced down to see what I was looking at and spotted her bikini bottom floating on the water. In almost comically slow motion, she looked down at herself and realized that yes, her bikini bottom had in fact abandoned her and left her a bit more exposed than she had been before. Surprise seemed to have momentarily frozen her, because she just stood there looking down at what her bikini should have been covering.

Recovered from my own surprise and doing everything I could to avoid laughing at Cecilia’s expense, I swam over and grabbed the faithless little piece of clothing. I continued on and handed it to her, at which point I realized that the look on her face wasn’t shock and embarrassment at all. She took the bikini bottoms from me and gave me a look that dared me to say anything, then dropped them on the flagstones.

We just looked at each other for a long moment, then she reached back and undid her top, which she dropped next to her bottoms. She stood there, completely naked, daring me to look at her. Of course I’d glanced, but I was absolutely not going to ogle my wife’s little sister, no matter how much she wanted me to.

I swam back into the middle of the pool, turning around just in time to get a faceful of water from yet another cannonball. That seemed to break the strange mood, making me laugh out loud. Cecilia surfaced and splashed me with her hands, and just like that she was a little kid again. Playing and splashing, she was skinny-dipping rather than clumsily trying to seduce, to my immeasurable relief.

After a while it started to cool off, so we both got out of the pool. Cecilia unceremoniously put her cold, wet bathing suit back on without comment, and we headed back inside.