This Summer Will Be Different(55)

“In third place,” the emcee announces, “with eighteen seconds in penalties for a total time of one minute and fifty-one seconds is Felix Clark of Prince Edward Island.”

Bridget jumps up and down, and Zach claps his hands over his head, but Felix remains still.

“Go,” I tell him. “Get up there.”

He faces me, bringing our joined hands to his mouth. With his eyes on mine, Felix presses his lips to my knuckles. Everything fades away. The cheering. Bridget’s gasp. Even my pulse, a booming drum, is silenced. My awareness is isolated to my fingers, to the sliver of skin beneath Felix’s lips. It lasts for only a heartbeat, and then Felix leaves us.

Bridget looks at me, her eyes bulging. What her brother just did was more intimate than if he’d smacked a quick peck on my mouth.

“What was that?” she asks.

I have no idea. I stare at Felix, making his way across the stage to claim his plaque. “I think he drank too much.”

Felix is lost to revelry for the next hour. Every so often, our eyes meet through the sea of people, and he stares as openly as he smiles. The dimple is a permanent exhibit. His happiness, unbound, is intoxicating. Everyone around him basks in his warmth.

When the partying dies down, Felix climbs into the back of the truck clumsily while Bridget gets into the front. She and Zach are in the midst of a heated debate about a Trivial Pursuit game I gather took place when they were teenagers. She must have forgotten about my motion sickness.

In the darkness of the back seat, I feel Felix’s gaze on me. When I meet his eyes, he reaches across the bench, linking our fingers together. He rests his head back and falls asleep moments later. I stare at our joined hands. It would be all too easy to get caught up in the feeling of his hand in mine, to grow used to it, to miss it once I’m gone. But after last summer, I know what it’s like to feel the warmth of his attention and then go without it. Every part of himself that Felix offers up, every piece I allow myself to savor, is just another thing I’ll have to say goodbye to. Because even if Felix weren’t Bridget’s brother, I’m not part of his world, and that’s never going to change.

So I pull my hand away. I ignore my heart’s protests.

Him, it says. More.



* * *



? ? ?

The next morning, I’m awake first. Zach peels himself off the couch when the coffee’s brewed. Felix is sprawled on the pull-out, still in last night’s clothes.

For a few hours yesterday, I had a reprieve from the constant toll of work stress. I barely checked my email. But now Felix’s confusing hand-kissing and Bridget’s looming wedding day have me wanting to tear my eyeballs out.

“Thank you?” Zach says when I pass him a mug. “You look pissed, Lucy.”

“Just tired.”

“Uh-huh,” Zach says. “That scowl has nothing to do with Courtney?”

“Courtney?”

“The woman I saw you shooting daggers at last night,” he says. “Brown hair. Pretty.”

I’m about to tell Zach I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I change my mind. I’ve woken up cranky, and I’m running with it. “How many women did he sleep with in the past year?”

Zach blinks at me. “You mean the past year when you and Wolf were not in a relationship?”

I grit my teeth. Good point. “Yes.”

“That’s not my information to share. But he’s not a monk, Lucy. He’s been dating, looking for someone who he could see a future with.”

My throat goes tight. I have no idea what I wanted to hear, but that wasn’t it.

Zach’s eyes soften. “Do you want to talk about it? If you want to get anything off your chest, I won’t share it with him. I’m a master of keeping secrets.”

I shake my head. “But thanks.” Zach is good people, but if there’s anyone I should talk to, it’s Bridget.

Zach shrugs. Just one shoulder. Like a Clark. “Have it your way. You two have been dicking around like a couple of assholes for years now. Who am I to stop you?”

“Again, thanks.”

Bridget tromps downstairs, ordering us to get dressed for our trip to North Cape.

“What’s with your face, Bee?” she asks before marching into the TV room to rouse Felix. She’s peppy and bossy and smiling, and her mood swings are wearing on me. I have no clue what’s going on, and despite what she says, I don’t trust that she’s getting married in five days. And I’m about to drop thousands of dollars on her flowers.

I step outside to call Farah. She’ll have to handle the auction tomorrow. I’ve sent her my order list, including what I need for Bridget’s wedding. I hate delegating such a crucial task, but there’s no other option. I can’t go back to Toronto without setting things right and telling Bridget about Felix.

Farah answers with her signature, “This better be important.”

“I know I said I’d be on a plane today, but—”

“You’re running off with Bridget’s brother and never coming back?”

After my aunt met Felix two years ago, she explained to Farah, in extraordinary detail, how handsome he was. “That’s funny,” Farah said. “Lucy’s never mentioned that he’s a hottie.”