39
Now March
The cow is gone but Felix is here, waiting for me in the terminal. I spot him just before he sees me. He’s reading, of course. When he glances up and finds me, his eyes spark, but his feet stay planted as I make my way to him.
I’ve arrived with a book in my bag and my heart in my hand, and I have no idea how he’ll react to everything I’m planning to share with him, but I hug him close to me and breathe him in. Wind. Ocean. Trees.
“You have a problem,” he says. He’s wearing a heavy coat, but I can feel his laughter rumbling through his chest. I’ve heard it so often over the last five months that we’ve been talking and cooking together and learning each other, but there’s nothing like feeling it in my body.
“I know,” I say. “I’ve been in withdrawal.”
“Hi,” he says when I loosen my grip.
“Hi,” I say back, getting lost in his face. His beard is back. His eyes are as
bright as I’ve ever seen them.
“You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
I told Felix I wanted to visit so I could cook with him in real life. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the complete truth, either. He’s booked me in one of the cottages for the week. I hope that’s because he’s being chivalrous, not because he doesn’t want me at his house. It’s better this way. If things don’t go how I want them to, I couldn’t manage staying with him.
“I want to show you something,” I say when he pulls out of the parking lot. The snow has melted in Toronto, but it still blankets the ground here.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Not like that.” But god, just like that, too. I recite the address from memory.
“Point Prim Road?” Felix asks, confused.
“Point Prim Road. Want me to put it in your phone so you can use the GPS?”
He shakes his head. “I know my way.” He glances at me. “Do you want to
fill me in on what this is all about?”
“Not yet.”
I’m too nervous to say much the rest of the drive. When Felix pulls up to my dream, which amounts to little more than a metal gate across a snowy path, I’m breathing heavily. Perspiration beads at my hairline.
“What is this, Lucy?” He looks at me. “Are you carsick? I have a snack bar in here.” He reaches into the center console, but I put my hand on his wrist.
“Let’s take a walk,” I say, digging the book out of my bag.
We get out of the truck. I climb over the gate, and Felix follows.
“I didn’t take you for an outlaw,” he says once we’re walking across the field. Snow crunches under our boots, our words turn to fog from our lips.
“I’m not,” I say. I take a deep breath. “I own this land.”
Felix stops walking. “You what?”
I turn to face him. “I bought it,” I say. “For my farm.”
He blinks like he’s misheard me. “For your farm?”
I nod. “This is the first time I’m seeing it,” I tell him. “I had Zach check it
out.”
“You had Zach check it out?”
I nod again. “He’s been really helpful.”
“Zach,” he says slowly. “Has been really helpful. To you. While you were buying a farm. Here. On Prince Edward Island.”
I look around at the plain of white, the snow-covered pines that surround it. “I wouldn’t call it a farm. It’s more of a field, really. But it goes all the
way to the ocean.”
“To the strait, you mean.”
I smile because islanders are so particular about how they label bodies of water. “Yes, it goes all the way to Northumberland Strait.”
He still looks stunned. “Why? Why would you do this?”
“Because,” I tell him. “I love Prince Edward Island more than I love anywhere else, and I want to make it my home one day. I want to build a life here. I want to grow flowers here.” Even if Felix doesn’t want to do it with me, this is where I want to be.
Felix is staring at me with big blue eyes, but he hasn’t spoken. Before I lose my courage, I hold the book up. “I brought you something.” I wrapped it in pink paper because this book is a gift as much as it is a message. “I wanted to give it to you in person.”
If I weren’t wearing mitts, Felix would see my fingers tremble when I pass it to him. He pulls off his gloves and removes the paper, turning the novel over in his hands, then looks up at me.
“Anne of the Island?”
“It’s the third one in the series,” I say. I annotated it on the plane, underlined all my favorite parts, wrote notes in the margins for Felix to read.
He tilts his head. His eyes search mine for meaning.
“Have you read it?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “Only Anne of Green Gables.”
“With all the reading you do, you should have finished the complete works of Lucy Maud Montgomery by now.” I tap the cover. “In this book, Anne leaves Prince Edward Island and goes to college in Nova Scotia.
Gilbert proposes twice. The first time Anne’s not ready and takes up with a man who is completely wrong for her. In the end, though, she realizes that the island is her home and Gilbert is her true love.”
“Smart woman, that Anne Shirley,” he says, scanning my face.
Nerves zip through my limbs, ripple in my chest. They aren’t going to stop me. I’m afraid, but I’m not going anywhere.
“Felix, I brought you here to tell you that you are in every one of my dreams. I came here to ask whether I’m in any of yours, too.”
I barely have time to register before his mouth is on mine. I rope my arms around his neck, pulling off my mittens so I can slide my hands into Felix’s hair. My fingers curl into the thick strands at the nape of his neck like they’ve always belonged there. His lips are reverent, the most devout kind of worship, as slow and sweet as jam. My lips part and a sob escapes, but it dissolves on Felix’s tongue. Warm like hot honey butter, even in the last weeks of winter. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead on mine.
“All of my dreams, Lucy. Every single one.”
I kiss him again because I’ve missed how he tastes, and I haven’t had nearly enough. One hand tilts my head, the other finds my waist, towing me to him. I melt into his mouth, his chest, his hips, and a familiar growl sounds in the back of his throat. I devour it. I devour him. Felix’s mouth coasts along my jaw.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever feel your skin again,” he rasps against my throat. “I missed you. I missed this neck.”
I take his face in my hands, bring him back to me. “The neck is all yours.”
He runs his nose against mine. A thumb traces my cheek. “I’ve always thought we fit perfectly together,” he says.
“You haven’t always thought that,” I say, smiling. I don’t think I knew what happiness was until this moment.
“I have.” He pushes a stand of hair off my forehead. “And I loved your smile. It’s as bright as sunshine. I loved your lips, and your breasts, and your hips. I loved your thighs.” His mouth trails south. He unbuttons my jacket and kisses the trio of moles. “I loved these three dots.” He kisses his way back up, his face returns to mine. “Are you following?”
“I think I am.”
“Let’s make sure, Lucy.” His eyes sparkle. So does the dimple. “I love your name. Lucy Beth Ashby. I love the feel of it in my mouth. I love the way you braid your hair before bed. I worship the nightgowns. And your dresses. The one you wore when we met. The purple one with the bow around the middle.” A finger steals across my cheekbone, over my bottom lip. “Your skin. It’s so soft. The way your lipstick tastes, like wax and honey.
The way you taste when you come.”
“If you keep talking like that, I might ask you to ravish me right here in this frozen field.”
Felix’s hands travel to my lower back, crushing me to him. I go willingly.
“I’d ravish you anywhere, but I’m not done yet. I love how much you love my sister, and your shop, and that cow statue.”
“Wowie,” I say.
His smile grows. Blossoms to its fullest. “Wowie,” he says. “I love your strong opinions on butter. And the things you can do with flowers. You’re an artist, Lucy. I love how you hold a knife, and I love watching you eat. I love the way you blush. Fuck, the way you blush. I love how you ask questions and really listen to the answers. I love every book you sent me, every package of seeds. Every look you’ve given me. Every touch. Every kiss. You could throw up in my truck a dozen times, and I wouldn’t mind.”
I laugh, but my heart is singing, More. Felix.
“How can you make that sound romantic? I love the things that come out of your mouth.”
“Your mouth is exquisite. Lusher than any garden. More gorgeous than
any rose.”
“Your words,” I say. “So beautiful.”
I map his jaw with my fingertips, then set my palm on his chest. He places his hand atop mine.
“There have been times when staying away from you has felt as impossible as not breathing. I think I’m made for you, Lucy,” he says. “Since the first day we met, I think a piece of my heart has belonged to you. Every year, it just got bigger and bigger. I don’t know when it became more. Maybe when you put that pink package of butter in my hand. It could have been when we watched each other in the bathroom mirror. Or when you came to me that Thanksgiving. Or when I saw your shop. Or when you sent me that first book. Or when we went to the lighthouse at the end of this peninsula, and you looked like you’d never been happier to be anywhere or with anyone. I don’t know when it happened, but the whole thing is yours, Lucy.
My entire heart if you want it.”
I press a hand over his lips. “That’s enough talking.”
“I have more to say.”
“I know you do.” I loop both arms around him. I look into his eyes, the most radiant of all the blues. “But I traveled across the country so I could tell you, and you’re not beating me to it. I love you, Felix.”
Felix blinks, and then tips his head back. A laugh, glorious, erupts from him, and then he plants his hands on either side of my face. “You.” He kisses me once. “I am so in love with you. Wildly. Deeply. Unrelentingly in love with you.”
Felix’s mouth is on mine again, and it’s not a polite kiss. There’s sucking and biting and big hands all over.
“Home,” he says. “I want to take you home.”
• • •
A BOOT ON THE DOOR MAT. A COAT FLUNG ONTO THE COUCH. MY SWEATER littering the hallway. We are giddy and frantic, just like the first time. Our kisses are sloppy. Our smiles are, too. But when we step into Felix’s room, his mouth slows down. I have no idea where my skirt went.
I tell him over and over, “I love you. I love you.” It slips off my tongue easily. Holding it back was the hard part.
We kiss, and touch, and roll around until Felix makes his way down my body. He runs his tongue over the pink bands my bra has stamped into my flesh, following the grooves. I feel his callouses over my ribs. I love these hands. I admire the golden brown of his forearms. I love this skin. His palm slides down my torso, along my stomach, and between my legs.
“You look like a dream,” he says before his mouth follows.
After I come so loud that I’m thankful Felix doesn’t have neighbors, I pull him back to me. Kiss his mouth, tell him how much I love it. I make him lie down, so I can get on top. I look at him beneath me, lips slick, eyes hooded.
When I fit myself around him, he lifts his chin to the ceiling.
“I might not last long,” he says, voice ragged. “It’s been a while.”
“That’s okay. We have time for a second round.”
He takes a deep inhale, and I circle my hips once. His eyelids flutter, so I
do it again. This will be fun.
“What’s that look?” he grits out.
“I was wondering how fast I could end this.” I reach behind me, running a hand along his inner thigh, over his birthmark. He groans and closes his eyes.
I watch his chest rise and fall, but when he meets my gaze again, he’s wearing a look of total determination. I know this look. I’m in trouble.
Felix grips my backside as he sits upright, pulling me onto his lap.
“Do your best, Lucy.” He moves his lips to the moles under my collarbone, then lower. “And I’ll do mine.”
We have sex once, twice, three times. We break for food and water and for Felix to start a fire in the living room. My mouth can’t form any shape but a smile. I press my face into the pillow, laughing as Felix sinks his teeth into the flesh of my backside.
Once we’ve fully exhausted ourselves, he tucks me against his chest, hugging me close. It’s where I feel safe. It’s where I feel cherished. It’s my whole world, right here, wrapped up with Felix.
• • •
THE SUN HAS LONG SINCE RISEN BY THE TIME I WAKE UP. FELIX IS FAST ASLEEP, A boyish grin on his lips. I slip on one of his shirts and sneak out to the kitchen.
I make myself toast and Earl Grey tea because Felix doesn’t own a coffee maker. There are two photos on his fridge now. The one I saw the last time I was here—Felix and Zach at Salt Cottages—and one of me. It’s from Bridget’s wedding. I’m on the dance floor, the only person in focus, watching Miles sing. I have my fingers pressed over my smile.
While I wait for the toast to pop and the tea to steep, I inspect Felix’s books. The ones I’ve sent him are displayed on a shelf along with the seeds. I
pick up Great Expectations.
“Good morning,” I hear Felix say.
I turn around to look at him across the room. He’s wearing underwear and a white T-shirt. He looks rumpled and gorgeous and mine. I think of all the
things I love about Felix, and this time I don’t run. I cross the floor, throw my arms around him, and say, “Good morning, my love.”
