This Summer Will Be Different(33)
Before I can interrogate him about that, he adds, “And I’ve seen the way you look at each other—you’re both so obvious.”
I cannot fathom what he thinks is obvious.
“There’s nothing between us,” I tell him. “Same as always.”
He snorts. “I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or lying to yourself.”
I ask Zach a question about outdoor living walls because I know it’ll distract him. Zach has more hobbies and interests than anyone I know. He’s telling me about biodiversity in urban environments when Felix returns to the kitchen, and my eyes find his across the room.
“See, that,” Zach hisses. “It makes me want to take a cold shower.”
* * *
? ? ?
Trivial Pursuit comes out somewhere before Bridget’s fourth glass of rye and after she holds Zach’s cheeks between her hands and says, slushy-mouthed, “I missed you so much.”
Zach is trouncing the rest of us. He’s the reigning champion and takes sick pleasure in making everyone else look like fools. When he scores a fourth piece of pie and runs around the room with his arms above his head, Bridget throws a pillow at him. “You’re an overgrown encyclopedia.”
“I have to impress you somehow, Bridge,” he says, flopping on the sofa between us and slinging an arm around her shoulder. “So tell me—is this wedding happening or not? No pressure, but Lana and I have our hotel room booked, and I need her to see me in my suit.”
Bridget’s shoulders inch toward her ears, the pink of her cheeks deepening as she stares down at the game board.
Felix and I share a look, and I know by the determined set of his eyebrows and the steadiness of his gaze that he’s done giving her space.
“What Zach is trying to say,” he starts, “is that you have guests traveling from as far as Australia in a couple of days, and if you’re backing out of this thing, it would be considerate of you to let everyone know sooner rather than later.”
Bridget cuts Felix a razor-edged look. “I do not want to talk about the wedding.”
He leans forward in his chair, hands clasped between his knees. He looks straight at Bridget. “You made Lucy drop everything and fly out. I’m staying here because you asked me to. You can at least do us the courtesy of letting us know why you’ve summoned us.”
Felix doesn’t raise his voice, but he speaks with quiet force. I’ve never heard him talk like that to Bridget. Or anyone.
The Clarks stare at each other, neither one speaking.
“We’re just worried about you,” I try. “The wedding is a week away. Did something happen between you and Miles?”
“Can I not, for once, let loose?” Bridget says, her voice shaking. “Am I not allowed to do something spontaneous?”
“Of course you can,” I say. “But, Bridget, this is obviously not about being spontaneous. If something’s wrong, maybe we can help you figure it out. You don’t have to solve all your problems on your own.”
Her eyes begin to well, and I motion for Zach to get off the couch.
“Talk to us, Bridge,” I say, putting an arm around her. “Or I can send these two hooligans away, and you can talk to me. I’m worried about you.”
She looks at me, her deep brown eyes glistening, and shakes her head.
“I can’t,” she says. “I’m not ready to tell you.”
16
Now
I blink at Bridget. The rejection smarts. So much so that it renders me speechless.
“It’s not because I don’t trust you, Bee,” she says.
I swallow. “Sure.”
She sighs, then kisses my cheek. “I’m going to go up to bed.”
I stare at her back as she climbs the stairs, stunned. After she’s disappeared, I rise.
“I’m going to clean the kitchen.” I’ll scrub my hurt away.
Felix stands, too. “I’m going to talk to her.”
Zach joins me at the sink. Bridget’s and Felix’s voices are loud enough that we can hear them arguing upstairs, but they’re muffled, so we can only make out a few words here and there.
Felix: “You’re kidding.”
Bridget: “I wish I was.”
It doesn’t take long for the Clark family feud to go quiet again, but neither sibling returns. I rinse the last of the dishes, looking out the window at the silver streak of moonlight on the water.
“The silence is slightly unsettling,” Zach says. “You think Bridget’s bleaching her crime scene?”
“I’ve never heard them fight. Felix is so even-keeled. Nothing seems to bother him.”
Zach looks at me.
“What?”
“You called him Felix. No one calls him that.”
I don’t reply.
“Huh,” Zach says. He squeezes his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. And then, “He’s not as easygoing as you think, Lucy. He has feelings.”
I frown. “I know that.”
Zach stares at me for a long moment, but all he says is, “Good.”
Felix’s voice, gruff, interrupts us. “I’m taking a walk.”