28
Now Five Days Until Bridget’s Wedding
We’re soaring up the coast on the edge of the cliffs. The land to our right drops off abruptly into the gulf. White windmills rise in the distance. Lobster traps are stacked beside barns and outbuildings.
The trip to North Cape, the tippy top of the western side of the island, is well over an hour, too long for Zach’s legs to be squished in the back seat.
I’m looking out the window to try to keep my stomach from turning over— the majesty of the scenery is lost on me. Bridget says the view is worth it.
We’re going to get food after—there’s talk of a good lobster roll in Tignish.
“There are sixty-one lighthouses and range light buildings on the island,”
Zach declares from the passenger seat.
“I have no idea what a light range is,” I say, voice flat. I’m annoyed with everyone. Bridget. For dragging me to the Maritimes and making me cancel my meeting with Lillian. Felix. For kissing my hand. For wanting to find someone to build a future with here on the island. For the thumbs-up emoji he sent me and the year of silence that followed. Zach. For being smart. And myself. For being so very stupid.
“A range light,” Zach corrects. “They’re sort of like lighthouses—they’re used for marking the entrance to a harbor, so there’s always two of them.
There are twenty pairs on PEI.”
“Thank you for that, Zachary,” Bridget says, and Zach turns around, batting his eyelashes at her.
Every so often, Felix glances at me in the mirror, but I won’t meet his eyes. I let myself fall into Felix’s orbit, let him slip under my defenses. It’s last summer all over again. I need to keep my distance.
I look out the window, taking deep breaths. It’s more than motion
sickness making me nauseated.
“You okay?” Felix says.
“I’m not going to vomit in your truck, if that’s why you’re asking.”
“Let us know if that changes.”
Zach holds up the box of nutty snack bars Felix brought. “Wolf’s an excellent Boy Scout. We come prepared.”
We off-load in front of a large building perched on the lip of the peninsula —the North Cape Wind Energy Interpretive Centre. It earns its name as soon as I step outside. The skirt of my sundress blows around my calves, and I have to hold my hair out of my face as we clamber over red boulders to the rocky shore. An octagonal lighthouse stands in the distance, its white paint faded. It’s overcast today. The wind tastes like rain.
“It’s more than one hundred and fifty years old,” Zach says. “Built in 1865. It’s not the oldest one on the island. That would be Point Prim Lighthouse, which is one of two round brick lighthouses in Canada.”
Point Prim. The reminder of last July, when Felix and I visited the lighthouse, and the following day when we spent hours entangled in his bed, has my chest heating. I can feel him watching me, but I keep my focus on the water.
“All right,” Bridget says, giving Zach a tap on his arm. “We get it. Your brain is huge.”
“Have you noticed the tides?” Zach asks me.
I look to where he’s pointing.
“Under there is a rock reef—the longest in North America.”
“Hence the need for the lighthouse,” Bridget says. “You can walk on it when the tide is low. But right now . . . can you see it?”
“The waves?” They’re rolling in gently, crashing against each other in a line that stretches out from shore. “What is that?”
“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.”
His lips press together as he stares at me. “That bothers you.”
I blink. Once, twice, a third time. Felix steps closer. I’m looking straight into his eyes, trapped. I want to reply, but I don’t trust myself to sound steady.
“It does,” he says. “I can tell. But I want to know why. I thought this was about having fun, Lucy.” He studies my face and takes another step closer.
“That’s what we’ve agreed to from the beginning. That’s what you wanted.”
I wipe the rain from my eyes. “Well, it’s not fun for me anymore.”
He brushes a piece of hair away from my face, and I turn my cheek.
“Lucy.” The gentlest Lucy. The word echoes around us, reverberating over
the fields, rolling around with the thunder.
“Don’t Lucy me. Don’t say my name like that.”
“How do you want me to say it?”
“Truthfully. Like I’m just a hookup. Like I’m the person you sent that stupid thumbs-up emoji to. Like I don’t mean anything to you.” My voice breaks, giving me away.
“You’re upset about an emoji?” He’s fighting back a smile, and it only makes me angrier. “Lucy,” he says again. It’s a hopeful Lucy. A Lucy that sounds a lot like delight.
“That,” I say. “Don’t say my name like that. Like I’m important. Like I make you happy. Like we’re friends. I know I’m insignificant. I know you’ve been dating other women, and whatever! I don’t care.” I throw up my hands to underline the lie. “We went a year without speaking. We’re not friends. I get it. We’re not anything.”
Felix takes another step forward, crowding my space, suddenly serious.
“Friends,” he says. “Is that what you thought we were?”
I stare at him, breathing heavily, not sure what to make of the way his gaze heats. It’s fastened to mine, snapped in place like the final puzzle piece.
I swallow. “I thought we could be.”
“Lucy.” It’s a growl, a vibration deep in his chest. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
I jerk my head back, but Felix’s hands come around my face as he captures my mouth with his. His grip falls to my waist, hauling me tight against him. He sucks on my bottom lip, groaning. Despite common sense, the sound is my undoing. My lips part, letting him in. I curl my fingers into his hair, locking him to me, and our kiss becomes an urgent collision of hot tongues and wet flesh and frenzied fingers. The warmth of his mouth, the taste of him, sends a shudder through my body. He pulls back only enough to rest his brow on mine, eyes closed. His nose brushes mine, and he swipes his thumbs over my cheeks.
“What is this?” I whisper. “What’s happening right now, Felix?”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I thought you realized. I thought that’s why you left so suddenly that morning a year ago. It hurt. That’s why I
didn’t take you to the airport. That’s why I dated women who weren’t you this past year. I’ve been trying to get over you, Lucy. You mean so much to me that I can’t think, can’t even breathe properly, when we’re together.”
He inhales through his nose, steadying himself. I can feel the restraint in his body, like he’s barely holding himself back. His gaze finds mine. It’s burning.
“Tell me you want me so I can kiss you again,” Felix says. His fingers flex at my sides.
“I want you,” I say. “You already know that.”
He shakes his head slightly, water dripping from his brow. “No, tell me you want me. Not just having sex with me. Me.”
“You?”
“Me.”
Awareness washes over me. “This isn’t just a fun time for you?”
His hands cup my cheeks. “No, this isn’t just a fun time for me.” His eyes are anchored to mine. “If I’m honest, it probably hasn’t been for a while. Last summer, I thought you may have felt something for me, but the way you left . . . I figured I’d been kidding myself. I thought you knew how I felt about you. All that time we spent together. The day on the beach, the night at my house. Lucy,” he says, his thumb tracing my jaw. “Tell me I’m not alone in this. Tell me you feel something, too.”
I survey last summer with new eyes. How Felix freed up one of the cottages for me. Filled the fridge. Got the wine I like. Hugged me at the airport. Held my hair back when I was sick. He stayed with me. Checked in on me. And then there were the hours we spent together in his bed. You, he kept saying to me.
I’ve buried my feelings for Felix in a secret garden beneath my rib cage. I didn’t think he’d done the same.
“I did,” I whisper. “Last year, I felt it, too. You’re not alone,” I tell him.
“I want you, Felix.”
His fingers tunnel into my hair, a smile forming on his lips. He kisses me, sweet.
“For more than one night, Lucy,” he says. “I want you for more than one
night.”
“For two?” I grin.
“More.”
“More,” I agree. As soon as the word leaves my lips, his are on mine. But kiss isn’t a strong enough word for the way Felix claims my mouth. It’s sucking and biting. His tongue, indecent. His hands, gripping my backside, moving me against him.
“You,” he says. “You feel like you were made for me.”
Thunder shakes the earth, and I reach for his belt.
“More.” The word has many meanings.
“Here?” I feel his chuckle, but his fingers move to the bow on the shoulder of my dress. He pauses, then looks around. “Maybe not here.”
Felix takes my hand and leads me around to where the rock and cliffs create a private cove just for us, and then we’re kissing again. Soaked through to our skin. But I’m not cold. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel the cold again. I could taste the rain on Felix’s tongue forever.
I unfasten his jeans, and he unties the bows that hold my dress up. He’s so hard in my hand. Heavy. Thick. Perfect. His mouth moves from my neck, down my chest. My bra is tossed to the sand, and he sucks on one nipple, then the next, the way I like. Hard, then harder, then teeth. His hand grapples with the skirt of my dress, pushing it up my thighs. I’m helpful. I take my underwear off myself while he digs a condom out of his pocket.
“Always prepared,” I say as he hooks his arm around my leg, holding me tight, opening me up for him. And it feels so good, the slow stretch. Bliss. I arch back, tilting my chin to the sky. But when he begins to move, it’s too
much. My leg goes weak.
“I can’t do this standing up.”
“Fair enough,” he says, gripping my ass, and lifting me clean off the ground. I yelp and snap my thighs around his waist.
“You can’t hold me up like this.” We’re so slippery.
“Try me.”
I squeeze him with my legs like a stress ball, afraid I’m about to crash to
the sand.
“Relax, Lucy. I’ve got you.”
“You better,” I say, loosening myself. Felix adjusts his stance, and then he sinks so deep, I suck in a loud shock of air. He thrusts once, and I have to
close my eyes.
“You okay?”
I mumble out a “Fantastic.”
His replying laugh is strained. I tuck my face into his neck, holding him close. With every sound I breathe into his skin, his fingers tighten on me. It feels unreal, like every time we’ve been together before, but new, too. More primal. Unrelenting. Too much. Not enough. I come so fast, I’m a little annoyed with myself.
“What’s that face?” Felix says, slowing his pace, kissing me softly.
“Too soon,” I say.
He hums. “Feel like getting sandy?”
And then he’s lying back on the wet beach, and I’m on top of him, kissing him, savoring him, relearning every inch of him. It’s still raining, but it’s gentler now. The water warm. This time when I come, Felix does, too, his mouth on my moles.
I lay strewn over him like a blanket, out of breath. He runs a hand over the pebbled skin on my arm.
“Let’s go back to the house. Let’s get you dry.”
Felix helps me off the ground, reties my dress, and tucks me against his side. We make our way back to Summer Wind. Happy, laughing, and covered in sand.
