27
Summer, One Year Ago
Felix was lying beside me when I woke up, sunlight streaking his dark hair with gold. I gave myself a moment to drink in the sight of him—naked, chest bare, the sheet around his waist—then sat, taking in my surroundings. I was in Felix Clark’s bedroom. In his house.
There was just enough space for a queen-size bed, two nightstands, and a four-drawer dresser, which sat underneath a window overlooking the back of the property. Despite its size, the room was stylish, with a deliberate color scheme I doubted Felix was responsible for. The walls were two-tone—matte black from the floor to waist height and light brown on the upper portion— the bed linens gray and toss pillows tan. Black swing-arm sconces were installed on either side of the bed, and a vintage map of Prince Edward Island hung on one wall in a handsome frame. The only thing that didn’t coordinate seamlessly was one of his grandma’s patchwork quilts, folded across the bottom of the bed.
I’d barely paid attention when Felix carried me in here yesterday. We’d come straight from the beach and spent the rest of the day and night twisted together like two ampersands. We were covered in sand, and after round two, Felix sent me to wash off while he stripped the sheets and remade the bed before joining me in the shower. We’d slept together before, of course, but it felt different. We were learning each other in a way we’d never been able to.
The first time was slow, Felix’s forehead on mine, his kisses like confessions.
His words, too.
You, he kept saying. You.
Felix, I kept saying. More.
My chest ached with finally having him again, and when he was kneeling in the shower, my hands in his hair, I had a fleeting thought that I might be in trouble. But there was no stopping us. We were loud and greedy and giddy. I felt like a squirrel—that I wouldn’t survive winter if I didn’t get all of Felix in my system before I returned to the city.
I stared down at him now. He looked almost innocent while he slept, but his lips were swollen, and my thighs were chafed from where his beard had scraped against them.
Stomach rumbling, I slipped out of the bed, threw on one of his T-shirts, and found my way down the hall to the kitchen. His place was small but well cared for. It had smart slate gray siding Felix had replaced himself and a pond that sat to one side, spindly old apple trees behind it. There were no neighboring homes in sight. Felix had redone the bathroom, replaced the windows and furnace, reshingled the roof. He hadn’t gotten to the kitchen yet. He told me all this on the drive from the beach.
“It’s not much,” he’d warned, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
Nervous.
“I’m sure it’s great.” I put my hand on his thigh. “But let’s save the tour for later.”
We were tearing off our clothes before we made it over the threshold.
I placed a slice of bread in the toaster, studying a photograph on the fridge of Felix and Zach standing on the doorstep of one of the cottages while I waited. Zach’s arm was around Felix’s shoulder, and they both grinned broadly. I wandered over to the living room. It was painted a dark mossy green, the furniture caramel leather. There was a cute cast-iron fireplace in the corner. I wondered if Chloe had been his interior decorator, or maybe Joy.
I knew she’d helped with Salt Cottages, knew Felix and his ex were friends, but I was surprised by how the thought made me feel. Itchy and uncomfortable.
There was a large bookshelf that couldn’t contain all of Felix’s books— they were stacked in neat piles over every surface. I picked up a copy of
White Teeth off a teak end table and flipped through it. Felix had written in its margins, black ink marking favorite passages.
The toast popped, but my gaze had snagged on the bookshelf. They were all there. Wide Sargasso Sea, Felix After the Rain, Great Expectations, the silly hotel self-help. The ten books I’d sent Felix, all in a row. They sat on a shelf of their own, showcased like treasures between brass book ends.
I ran a finger over the spines, heart racing. There was The Light We Lost, which I bought in April because my favorite bookseller, Addie, said that I should try something written this century. She thought I might like it. I read the jacket copy and thought Felix might, too. I chose Happy Place in May because the idea of Felix holding that bright pink book delighted me to no end and because I could think of no happier place than PEI. I pulled out Great Expectations. It was a beautifully designed hardcover, which I’d sent because I’d heard Felix say once how much he loved it. I turned it over in my hands, opened it to a random page. My breath caught at the sentence he’d underlined.
“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”
I quickly tucked it back on the shelf, feeling like I’d been caught reading
Felix’s diary.
“Good morning.”
I spun around. He was wearing loose cotton pants, slung low on his hips.
He hadn’t put on a shirt. A pillow crease ran from his temple to his cheek, disappearing into his beard. His gaze met mine. It wasn’t a spark that struck me. Or the snap of electricity. It was all the moments we’d shared, all the things I’d noticed about Felix, admired about him.
I kept the ten packets of seeds he sent me in the glass box with my map of PEI, but I’d also collected every scrap I knew about Felix, storing them away without intending to. Now they were all pieced together, a scroll of memories unspooling infinitely. The covert glances. The stolen kisses. The books tucked into his jeans. Felix’s quiet ambition. The way he drank his tea in the morning, blowing into the cup to cool it down. The speed at which he could shuck a dozen oysters. How he’d handled my body last night like it was
precious, like it was his. The way he listened, with his head tilted to the side, eyes slightly narrowed. His calloused palms. How the muscles in his back moved under his shirt. How he helped with cooking and cleaning and went to the store to buy Portuguese wine when Bridget and I ran out. His easy confidence. The lovely things that came out of his mouth.
I knew Felix at twenty-three—brokenhearted, putting his life back together—and I knew him now, at twenty-seven—determined, solid, the
kindest man I knew.
I stared at him, lungs squeezing tight.
“Lucy,” Felix said, and I blinked. He strode across the room, setting his hands on my hips, searching my eyes. “Looks like you went somewhere there for a second.”
I glanced at the shelf of books I sent him, panic gripping me. I heard my aunt’s voice, the night she met Felix. That gorgeous creature is smitten.
But he couldn’t be. We’d been careful. We’d kept feelings out of it. I had to keep feelings out of it. My aunt was gone, and I had In Bloom to protect. I had to stay focused. I couldn’t have more. Not now, and not with Felix of all people. He lived on Prince Edward Island. I didn’t have time for a relationship, let alone something long distance. And even if I did, Felix was Bridget’s brother. I pictured her tears when she told me about his breakup with Joy, thought of the night where she laid out the rules for our first PEI vacation.
Don’t fall in love with my brother. I couldn’t deal with losing you, Bee.
Bridget, who I loved more than anyone. Bridget, who I needed more than ever now that my aunt was gone. Bridget, who I would do anything for.
There were two pillars in my life that I needed to guard. In Bloom and my friendship with Bridget. I may have liked Felix more than any man I’d known, but he was an impossibility.
“You,” Felix said with a lazy grin. “Your hair.” He pushed it behind my shoulder and kissed my temple. His lips coasted to my neck, sucking on the flesh beneath my ear. He groaned. “Your skin. I don’t think I will ever get enough.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This thing between us was getting away from me, but what if I wasn’t the only one?
“Lucy?” Felix’s gaze returned to mine. He traced my cheek with his thumb. “We didn’t eat much yesterday. You must be starving. I’ll make you
French toast and bacon.”
My favorite breakfast.
What did he say when he was in Toronto? “I was never really a casual fling kind of guy.”
My heart was a rocket. “I have to go,” I said. “I can’t be here.”
“What? Why? Is everything okay?”
“No.” I shook my head, grabbing for the first lie I could think of. “It’s work. Our online ordering system crashed. Can you drive me to the cottages?
I need to use my laptop.”
Felix stared at me for a long moment, brows pinched, his gaze moving around my face. He’d never looked at me with that kind of intensity before, with eyes so dark. But he nodded and then, like a switch flipped, he was light again.
“Of course.” He took a step back. “No problem. Let’s get you back.”
If Felix could see through the lie, he did me the courtesy of keeping it to himself. We dressed, and on the short drive, he kept glancing my way. But I couldn’t look at him. I needed to not be beside Felix, smelling him, wanting him, worrying. My feelings were bursting from me like fireworks, an explosion of respect and affection and longing. But had this become something more to him, too?
“I’m going to be busy all day with this,” I said as he parked. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We can grab breakfast before you drive me to the airport. My treat.” I jumped out of the truck.
I was halfway to the door when Felix called my name. He was standing next to the vehicle. “You forgot your bag.”
He held up my purse.
“Oh.”
Felix walked toward me. He slipped the strap over my shoulder. “All set.”
“Sorry I have to cut things short.” I felt like I’d fallen off a cliff, into the ocean, plunging deep, deep, struggling for breath. But Felix smiled, eyes shimmering.
“There’s no need to apologize, Lucy.” He winked. “I had a good time.
That’s what we do, right?”
It was like being doused in cold water. A good time. That’s what this was to Felix. That’s all it ever was. Felix hadn’t lost control. I had.
I forced myself to smile. “Yes. So did I. This was fun.”
He kissed me on the cheek. “It always is.”
“I’ll pick you up before your flight tomorrow,” Felix said, leaning out the truck window before he pulled away. “I’m holding you to that breakfast.”
But it wasn’t Felix who arrived at the cottage the next day.
“Something came up,” Zach said when I opened the door. “Wolf can’t make it.”
