This Summer Will Be Different(64)

“Two tides come in from opposite directions and meet here,” Zach says. “The Gulf of St. Lawrence and the Northumberland Strait.”

I cup my hand over my brow. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” I step closer, able to make out a strip of rocks between the tides. I watch, mesmerized, for minutes.

“It’s incredible,” I say eventually. “But it looks strange—tides shouldn’t come together like that.” It’s like an optical illusion.

“And yet they do,” Felix says, his voice almost next to my ear.

Only when I look over my shoulder do I realize that Zach and Bridget are wandering along the beach. It’s just Felix and me.

“They’re pulled together,” Felix says, voice low, eyes latched on to mine. “They can’t help it.”

The skin on my arms pebbles, and for a moment, I can’t seem to look away. But then I shake my head and point at Zach and Bridget.

“I’m going to go find them.”

I turn and walk down the shore, leaving him staring at my back.



* * *



? ? ?

Water slides down the windshield in a wall of wet. Felix shuts off the truck engine, and the four of us sit inside, fogging up the glass. The distance to the front door of Summer Wind seems a lot farther than it does when the sky hasn’t opened its belly on the world.

Bridget spent the entire ride back from North Cape texting with Miles while Felix shot glances at me in the mirror and Zach attempted to crack the tension by explaining the power dynamics of his fantasy basketball league. I’m tired of all three of them. I want out of this truck. I want off this island.

“This rain isn’t going to let up for a while,” Zach says as thunder rumbles. “We should make a run for it.”

Bridget’s phone rings. Miles’s name is on the screen. “Hey,” she answers. “I’ll call you back in a sec, okay?”

I gape at her when she hangs up, and Bridget gapes back.

“So,” I say to Bridget.

“So,” she says back.

Outside, lightning snaps, and so does my patience.

“So your wedding is in less than five days, and we’re sitting in a truck in the middle of a storm, on Prince Edward Island.” My volume increases. “I have a life, you know. And it’s not here.”

“I know that,” she says quietly.

“For the sake of my sanity, would you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Bridget’s face has gone bright red. But she doesn’t look like an outraged angel. She looks like she’s about to cry.

“I’ll get you back to Toronto, Bee,” she says, tapping her phone. “If that’s what you’re worried about, I’ll book our tickets right now.”

“You know that’s not all I’m worried about.”

She ignores me, focusing on her screen.

“Tomorrow is sold out.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Shit.

“But there’s a flight Wednesday morning.”

“Thank god. I need to get out of here.”

“Ouch,” I hear Zach say.

“This is not how I wanted this trip to go,” Bridget murmurs.

“How did you want it to go?” I say. “Pleeease tell me. I’m dying to know.”

She glances up from her phone, her eyes glassy. “I just wanted to spend time together.”

“We can spend time together in Toronto!”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, not fighting back. This isn’t the Bridget I know. With a final pleading look, she opens her door and hurries toward the house.

I can’t share the same air with her right now. Or Felix. “I’m going for a walk,” I announce.

Not waiting for a reply, I step into the storm. The rain is coming down so hard, it stings my skin. It feels good. It feels like the weather has tailored itself to my mood. It takes seconds for my dress to become saturated, the skirt sticking to my legs. Red mud splatters my shins. I make it to the shore before I hear him.

“Lucy, stop.”

“Leave me alone,” I call. I feel like the lightning that splits the sky. I feel like the thunder that’s shaking the ground. I am a black cloud ready to erupt. I turn left and keep walking.

“It’s too wet to be out here.” He’s closer.

I get another dozen paces before I feel his hand on my wrist. I spin around. Felix’s shirt is plastered to his chest. Droplets fall from his eyelashes and the ends of his hair.

“Are you okay? Talk to me, Lucy.”

“You’re the last person I want to talk to.” Felix flinches, but I don’t give him a chance to reply. “Why are you following me? Why are you pretending to care? I don’t need you to be nice to me, Felix. I need you to leave me alone.”

His frown carves grooves between his brows. “What makes you think I’m pretending? I just followed you into a storm.” He gestures to his soaked-through shirt as evidence. “I do care about you, Lucy.”

“You care about fucking me.” That’s where this always leads.

“I care about you.”

Another branch of lightning fractures the sky. I think of that text he sent me last year. “Oh please. I know I’m just a good time to you. Don’t pretend I’m something more than that.”