This Summer Will Be Different(75)

“Bridget, I can’t even talk you into buying a new pair of leggings. And you keeping secrets is stressful. You’re always helping me but never let me help you. It sometimes feels like our relationship is one-sided because you don’t need me.”

Her brows lift. “You really think that? Bee, of course I need you. Why do you think this is so hard for me? For years after I moved to Toronto, I felt so alone. But then I met you, and I met Stacy. I wouldn’t have survived without you and all that pasta your aunt fed us. Our Wednesday movie nights. Our kitchen dance parties. The flower shop. Our excursions to the theater with your aunt. I would have moved back to the island. I wouldn’t have met Miles. I wouldn’t have my job. I owe you everything. I love you, you potato.”

I begin to cry again. “I love you, too.”

She rubs my shoulder until I meet her eyes and brush my tears away. “And you know my parents adore you,” she says. “They’d have you here anytime, and it will make me feel better if you’d visit them.”

“Have you told them yet?”

“No,” she says. “I’d like to put that off forever. They already think Toronto is too far.”

I think of the way Felix glared at the letter Bridget left yesterday. “Your brother knows, doesn’t he? Is that what you were arguing about the other night?”

She nods. “He wouldn’t leave me alone until I told him. Wolf can be pretty headstrong. And he was pissed that I was keeping it from you.”

Bridget told Felix before she told me. My first reaction is hurt, but I know it’s hypocritical. I’ve been keeping secrets from Bridget, too. For years.

“I’m sorry, Bee,” she says.

I know it’s time to confess, but I’m terrified. Bridget’s moving to the other side of the world, and it would be so easy for her to cut me out of her life. I’m losing her to Australia, but if she feels betrayed, I’ll lose her all over again.

“I . . .” I hesitate. Because there’s something I haven’t considered before. What if Bridget isn’t upset? What if she thinks Felix and I wouldn’t work as a couple? Felix may not care about her opinion, but I do.

“Bee?” Bridget asks when seconds pass without me speaking.

“I have to tell you something.” It comes out in a rush. Six words in one.

“What is it?”

I feel like I might vomit. “Please don’t hate me.” I repeat her plea.

“It would be impossible to hate you.”

“I—” I’ve tried to do this before, but I’ve never got this far. I feel like I’m sprinting toward the edge of a cliff. I take her hands in mine so I don’t have to jump alone. This is it. I take a deep breath, then fling myself into the air. “I like your brother.” I let it hang there for second. “A lot.”

Bridget frowns, confused.

“And he likes me.” I sound like I’m thirteen. I try again. “Bridget, I have feelings for him. Real ones. We—” Her eyes widen, and I go on. “We are kind of . . . um . . . Well, there’s kissing.”

“You and my brother?”

“Yes.”

“Are kissing.” She speaks slowly, processing.

“Well, it’s more than kiss—”

“Stop.” She cuts me off, and I hold my breath. “I don’t want to hear whatever you were about to say. He’s my brother, Bee.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

Her nose scrunches. “Why would I hate you?”

“You told me not to get involved with him.”

“I told you not to fall in love with him. Wait, are you in love with Wolf?”

“I like him a lot. More than anyone. In a way that scares me, to be honest.”

“Huh.” A smile begins to blossom on her lips as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew you’d fooled around, but—”

“Wait.” My jaw hangs open.

Bridget looks at me, smug.

“You knew?”

“I knew.”

“Did Felix tell you?”

“Is that what you call him? That’s so weird,” she says. “And no, he didn’t tell me. Although, when you came back from PEI last summer, he stopped asking about you, which was such a dramatic change from his regular pestering for Bee-related intel. And you got this weird look whenever I mentioned him. I knew something had gone down—I told you that.”

I’m speechless.

“I remember being suspicious the second time you came here,” Bridget says. “You and Wolf kept staring at each other. But it was that trip we took at Thanksgiving—I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and your bedroom door was open.”

“Oh my god,” I murmur. I can’t believe I didn’t close it when I went to find Felix downstairs.

“And you weren’t in bed.”

I rub my eye, not sure whether to be ashamed, embarrassed, or relieved—all those things, probably.

“And I heard the pull-out sofa make a very loud screech.”

“No,” I say.

“Yes,” she says. “I’d like to scrub that from my brain.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” I take a deep breath.