This Summer Will Be Different(58)

I glanced at him.

“Told you,” he said, smug.

“I still don’t buy it that you weren’t trying to pick up dozens of tourists a season.”

He smirked. “Only one or two.”

Much like at Summer Wind, there was a sliding door that led to a deck. We stood side by side in front of it, staring out at the view. The sky was indecisive today, changing in minutes. Cloud, rain, sun, a watery rainbow in the distance, the ocean shining silver.

“I’d like to do more landscaping—add a fire pit and some gardens,” Felix said. “It’ll be more work, but I don’t mind. We’re really going to go for it at Christmas, too. Lights everywhere. I was thinking of building a skating rink out there.” He pointed to the field. “We’ll get the photographer here again. I want to build our winter business. What do you think?”

I gazed at Felix. He surveyed the green that spread before us. So proud, so handsome. So smart and talented and sure. He’d become such a man since I met him four years ago. Here he was, in the life that he had built for himself, more solid than ever before. He was fully formed, grown into the person he was meant to become. No longer the sullen twenty-three-year-old, licking his wounds after Joy broke up with him. No longer the teasing flirt.

“Sorry,” he said, ears blushing. “You’re not feeling well, and I’m boring you.”

“No.” I put my hand on his arm, ignoring how hot his skin felt beneath my fingers. A personal fireplace. “I’m sorry. I want to hear all about it. It’s been a long time. But I’m not a very good conversationalist right now,” I admitted. “I haven’t been sleeping. Or eating, which makes the car sickness worse. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“How about I make you something? I went grocery shopping this morning—the fridge is full. A sandwich maybe? I got the butter you like.”

“Thank you, but that’s okay. You’ve done enough for me already.”

Felix studied me, head tilted to the side.

I stamped on a smile. “Let’s do something before I go back to Toronto. I’ll take you out to dinner as a thank-you.” Chloe could spare him for one night. “The Inn at Bay Fortune maybe? I’ve always wanted to go.”

His mouth turned down at the corners. “I can stay if you want. Keep you company.”

“Felix, you don’t have to babysit me. I don’t want to be any more of a burden than I’ve already been.”

“You’re not a burden, Lucy.”

My eyes began to sting. I was too raw for his kindness. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“Plus my sister threatened bodily harm if I didn’t take care of you.”

I sputtered out a laugh, wiping my cheeks. I couldn’t believe I was crying in front of Felix. We’d opened the door to friendship when we spent time together in Toronto, but we hadn’t reached the level of comforting each other during moments of crisis. “Sorry—I’m super emotional right now. I’m not very fun to be around. You go do your thing, and I’ll text you when I’m in better shape.” Bridget had put Felix’s number in my phone.

After assuring him I was okay once more, he left me alone. I stared out at the sea, listening to his truck rumble to life, and the sound of the engine receded. Then I dropped onto the couch and sobbed into a pillow.



* * *



? ? ?

Once my tears dried, I looked around the empty house, alone. Lonely. I thought about texting Felix to see if he wouldn’t mind hanging out with me for the evening, but I couldn’t force myself to ask that of him. He had a girlfriend, and I wouldn’t be thrilled with that if I were her.

I inspected the kitchen. There was a bag of coffee on the counter from the good roaster in Charlottetown. A bottle of vinho verde in the door of the fridge. Eggs, Avonlea cheddar, a rainbow of produce, a fresh loaf of bakery rye, a box of my favorite snack bars, and a pink package of Cows Creamery cultured butter. I didn’t know whether Bridget had sent Felix a shopping list, or if in the four years that we’d known each other he had absorbed what I like to eat the way I had absorbed what he liked to read. I had a slice of buttered bread for dinner, standing over the sink.

When Felix knocked on the door the next morning, I was surprised to see him. I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and hadn’t looked in a mirror, but I could feel that my eyes were puffy. My mouth tasted like I’d sucked the metal off a flagpole. I hadn’t washed my hair in days. When I stayed at Summer Wind, I would do my makeup first thing so Felix wouldn’t see me without it, but I hadn’t bothered packing more than lip balm, and I couldn’t find the energy to care.

But I did notice things about Felix I hadn’t yesterday. His jeans were fresh, the deepest shade of indigo. His sneakers were leather and also new. He wore a black V-neck shirt, different than his usual white tee, made from a thicker cotton. He’d done something to his hair to put the waves in their place.

He was doing a similar inspection, a frown knitting his brows. “Why don’t you go take a shower, Lucy,” he said. “And I’ll make breakfast.”

I didn’t bother telling him to go. I had a feeling he wouldn’t have even if I’d asked, and I didn’t want him to. I still wasn’t used to living on my own, and I liked having someone around. I liked having Felix around.