This Summer Will Be Different(74)

My stomach dips. “Is the wedding off? Because if it—”

“No,” Bridget interrupts. She swallows twice before saying, “Miles has been offered a job in Australia.”

Everything goes blank. My mind, offline. My body, frozen.

“Bee?”

I focus on Bridget, on her brown eyes, which are beginning to well up again, and it all makes sense. Bridget has spent the past few days working through the biggest decision of her life. And I know my friend. I know she’s already made it.

It takes me a full ten seconds to speak. “You’re moving to Australia.”

She nods, and twin tears fall onto her freckled cheeks. “I’m sorry, Bee.” She wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face on my shoulder. Bridget is crying, but I stand there, arms limp at my sides. I think my brain is broken.

“I don’t want to go,” she chokes out.

Her body begins to shake. Her sobs come harder, like they’re ripped from her soul. It wakes me up. I’m Bridget’s best friend, and I need to act like it. I circle my arms around her shoulders, holding her tight. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” she says. “I know. Please don’t hate me.”

“I could never,” I say, squeezing her to me. “Never, never.”

We cry into each other’s necks, and when the sobs turn into sniffles, we sit side by side on the sand, knees drawn up, so Bridget can tell me the full story. With a voice that sounds like it’s been churned in a concrete mixer, Bridget explains that Miles’s employer is opening a satellite office in Sydney. He’s been tasked with running it. It’s a significant promotion.

“How long have you known?”

“Just a few days. He got the offer last week, and I freaked.”

“That’s why you came here.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I just wanted to hug my parents and my brother. And you. I needed space to figure out what to do. I’ve turned it over one hundred times, but there’s really no option.”

“You have to go.”

“I have to go.” She sighs. “I’ve always wanted to go back to Australia. To stay longer than we did last time, but I never wanted to move there. It’s so fucking far.”

“It’s as far as there is.”

Bridget tells me they’ve committed to going for two years, and then they’ll reassess. “We leave in October.”

My mouth opens. That’s only two months away. “But you love your job,” I whisper. It’s the only counterargument I have.

“I really do.” Her chin is wobbling again.

“So why go? Why does Miles’s career take priority?”

“It doesn’t. He would turn it down if I asked. But it’s an incredible opportunity, and I don’t want to hold him back. And part of me can see what a once-in-a-lifetime experience this will be for me. I’ve only ever lived here and in Toronto. I’d like to get to know the place where Miles grew up. It’s only two years.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

She laughs. “Maybe.”

“Do you think your boss would let you stay on remotely?” I want to climb into bed and hibernate for two years until Bridget comes back, but I’ve switched over to best friend autopilot, attempting to be supportive.

She sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I still haven’t figured that part out yet. I like going into the hospital, having colleagues, feeling like I’m part of a community. I love my coworkers. I love what I do. But I’m not sure it would make sense with the time difference.”

“What is the time difference?”

“They’re sixteen hours ahead.”

“Wow. You’re going to be living in the future. Can you tell me the winning lottery numbers?”

“Absolutely. That’s exactly how it works. We’ll be rich.”

A couple walks by us on the beach, nodding as they go.

“I can’t believe it,” I murmur. “I think I may have to live in denial until you get on a plane. Even then, I’m not sure I’ll be able to accept it.” I turn to her. “Bridge, you’re my everything.”

She tucks my hair behind my ear, then holds my cheeks in her hands. My tears threaten once more.

“I love you,” she tells me. “But I can’t be your everything. Nobody can. And I’ll still help with the shop—I can do the accounting stuff. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Something about her offer bothers me, but I can’t put my finger on why.

We go quiet and watch the waves, letting it all sink in.

Bridget is moving. To another continent. Another hemisphere.

“I think you’re brave,” I say eventually. “What you’re doing is brave.”

“Thank you.”

“But I wish you would have told me sooner. I get that you don’t appreciate unsolicited advice, but this is a really big thing to hold back from me.”

“I was trying to protect you. You lost your aunt last year, and I know how much you miss her. Plus, you’re already so stressed—I didn’t want to add to it. But it also felt like if I told you, it would feel real, you know? And I didn’t want you to try to talk me into staying before I’d made a decision.”