This Summer Will Be Different(59)

He stayed all day. We ate fried egg and cheddar sandwiches on toasted rye and watched The Great British Baking Show, my preferred comfort viewing. We walked to the shore in the late afternoon. I was briefly revitalized by the wind, the feel of sand underfoot, and the sound of the surf, but I tired quickly. I fell asleep, my head on Felix’s lap, somewhere between the technical (baguettes) and the showstopper (3-D bread sculptures), and woke up to darkness, my cheek on his thigh, a blanket tucked around me. Felix sent me to bed. I found him asleep in the bedroom next to mine the following morning.

I felt guilty for monopolizing Felix, and after he cooked breakfast for me for the second day in a row, I told him so. I was okay, I promised him. I liked his company, knew I’d miss him when he left, but I told him that I was on the mend.

And I was. I read on the deck, took long strolls along the beach and through the woods, sometimes weeping, sometimes smiling into the sun. There were so many birds flittering through the treetops—redstarts, yellow warblers, vireos. I grew accustomed to their song, my solitude not as keen in their company. I picked armfuls of wildflowers and filled the cottage with the kind of unstructured arrangements my aunt would have lovingly called “common.” I felt her with me while I worked. And day after day, the tightness in my chest eased. But I knew it would be hard to go back to the city. I would be more alone than ever.


Me: I’m not sure I want to come home.


Bridget: Wolf must be treating you well.


Me: He has. But I hate the idea of going back to my empty apartment. No you. No Stacy.


Bridget: There’s always me.



If I could have stayed on the island forever, I think I would have. Being on PEI had a way of making life feel simpler. I breathed easier. Began to sleep better. Slowed down in a way I never could in the city.

Over the next few days, I saw Felix around the cottages, gardening, checking on guests, cutting the field on a ride-on mower, shirtless, his bronzed skin beaded with sweat. He played soccer with the kids in the cottage next to mine, waving at me from the grass. He stopped in every day, making sure I was okay. One evening, he arrived with a box of oysters and a knife, and we ate them on the deck at sunset with the vinho verde.

Felix told me that he and Zach were looking for another property. Felix’s preference was for the east, Zach’s for the north shore. He wanted to know my thoughts. He asked me about the shop and about my favorite flowers and Farah, who he wished he’d met while he was in Toronto. He didn’t know any poet-florists.

Sometimes our eyes would catch, and the air would crackle, and I remembered him saying “I want you to call me Felix” three years ago. But then one of us would look away, and the spark was forgotten, though it hadn’t escaped me that not once did Felix mention his girlfriend. And I didn’t ask.

On my second to last day, he showed up in the Mustang.

He was smiling bright, and so was I. Felix loved that car, and I loved that fucking dimple.

“What’s this?”

“We’re going for a ride. Thought you might appreciate doing it in style.” He handed me the keys.

“I can’t. It’s a lost cause. Bridget tried to teach me to drive a stick once.”

He smirked. “I’ll show you how to handle it.”

“Ha,” I said. “But seriously. My parents didn’t want me to get my license—they were convinced I was going to wreck their Volvo. They offered to double my allowance if I’d hold off on taking my test.” When my aunt caught wind of this, she and Mom had an epic fight. In the end, Stacy drove from Toronto to St. Catharines to give me lessons herself.

Felix’s gaze hardened. “That’s messed up. Anyone who can turn plants into large-scale pieces of art can drive a stick.”

Ten minutes later we were shuddering down the driveway, Felix coaching me on when to use the clutch and shift. I yelped with every jerk of the vehicle, terrified I’d ruin the thing. Until I was doing it, driving through the countryside, fields and farmhouses whizzing by.

“Maybe I should get a dog,” I said, smiling.

“What?” Felix asked, baffled.

“I always wanted one when I was a kid, but my parents wouldn’t let me.” Instead, I tied a skipping rope around my toy poodle’s neck, dragging her around the house. I rubbed her belly, fed her invisible kibble, and pressed her nose into a bowl of water. “They said I wasn’t responsible enough, but they also didn’t want me to get my license, and look at me now.”

“Should we find a pet store? I’ll buy you a dog right now, Lucy.”

I laughed. “I don’t think I have room in my suitcase.”

“I learned how to drive before it was legal,” Felix said. “I convinced my dad to show me. We went up and down the driveway. Back and forth, back and forth. I could parallel park at fourteen.”

“Why were you in such a rush?”

“I thought it looked fun, but I also wanted to be able to ask a girl out as soon as I got my license and take her on a date without our parents having to drop us off. I had a lot of ideas about sex in back seats.”

“I bet.” I glanced at him. “And did that happen for you?” Felix would have been with Joy by the time he got his license.

He smiled. “Maybe a couple of times.”

“Hmm,” I said, though it sounded like a growl.