This Summer Will Be Different

by Carley Fortune

Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?

“Does this happen a lot?” I said as I wrapped his wrist with gauze. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. “No, Lucy. Beautiful women don’t tend to tell me they’re wide open while I’m holding a sharp object.”

Hahaha

After we became close, Bridget told me she was sometimes loneliest in a roomful of people, and I thought, Yes, that’s it exactly.

He leaned in a little closer. Dropped his voice. “That will be our first rule: We don’t tell Bridget.” “Do we need rules?” His gaze moved to my mouth, and need thrummed between my thighs. “I think we might.” I swallowed. “Okay, fine. We don’t tell Bridget. What happens on the island . . .” “Stays on the island.” He nodded. “Rule two: We won’t sleep together again.” “That goes without saying.” “And three’s obvious.” “Is it?” “It is.” Felix’s dimple winked. “Rule three: You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

It would be so easy to give in to it. This desire that comes from a place I don’t recognize, a place that isn’t accessible to me unless I’m with him. But I can’t be that reckless.

I lean against the door, taking deep breaths. But I need more than a piece of pine on hinges between me and Felix. I need a football field. Provinces. A whole damn country. But I’m not sure that would even work. Somehow, I always find my way back.

Everything that’s worth having is some trouble.

“Right now, it feels fresh,” Christine said. “But setbacks can be chances if you look at them from the right angle.” “Sounds like horse shit to me,” Bridget said, sending her mother a mocking smile. “That’s not horse shit—that’s the truth. Opportunities don’t fall in your lap because you want them to. You have to work to make them happen.”

My eyes caught on the small silver scar on his wrist. “Someone distracted me,” he said, tapping his knife on the mark. I lifted my gaze to his. “It was worth it.” “She must have been cute,” Bridget quipped from behind me. He smiled at me. “The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

For a second, I let myself imagine what it might be like to spend all my nights like this, here with these people. Drinks with my best friend. A fully stocked fridge. Waiting for Felix to return home with seafood. It would be a nice life.

“Really tell me. Tell me what’s happening at the store. Tell me about Farah and what poetry she’s working on. Tell me about flowers.”

Felix can say my name a thousand different ways. A Lucy that vibrates in the back of his throat, gritty with desire. A Lucy that sounds like sun showers. A Lucy of smug amusement. A Lucy that’s more a sigh of relief than a name. A Lucy that’s all awe and wonder.

I first imagined having a small garden, but it grew every time I envisioned it. It became a rectangular plot of nutrient-rich soil somewhere outside the city with enough flora to stock a farmer’s market stand through summer. Then a flourishing farm, with blossoms as far as the eye could see. Sunflowers following the light. Rivers of blue salvia. Delicate pink cosmos, swaying in the breeze.

I turn my face back to the stars, smiling up at them. “A field with rich soil. Sunflowers. Salvia. Cosmos.” “Dahlias,” he says. It’s not a question. Felix knows. “Dahlias,” I repeat. “Tell me more, Lucy,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

“But look at this,” Felix says. We gaze over at the farmhouse. There are people everywhere—picnic tables where families stop for snacks, a couple taking turns posing in front of the building, and a stream of people waiting for a turn to walk through the home. Felix nods toward a lanky teenage girl. She’s holding a periwinkle blue hardcover of Anne of Green Gables to her chest and openly weeping. “Look at how many lives she touched. This is a happy ending.”

‘Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it.’ ”

“He’s edible,” she said once we were outside. If Felix hadn’t been watching us through the window, I think she would have been rubbing her hands together and licking her lips. “He is.” It was an undeniable fact. “You’ve slept together.” I flushed immediately. It wasn’t a question. She knew. “I haven’t told Bridget.” Her grin fell. “You must.” “It wasn’t serious, and it’s over. There’s no point upsetting her.” “Lucy, I very much doubt that it’s over. There was enough tension between the two of you to bounce a coin off. That gorgeous creature is smitten, and from the way you’re blushing, I’d say you’re also taken with him.”

Stacy sighed. “I’m worried I’ve rubbed off on you so much that you can’t see what you really want. I’ve lived my life for myself. I love my independence. I don’t believe in one true love. For me. We have so much in common, but I don’t think we’re the same this way. You crave people, taking care of others, and being taken care of.”

“Dream big with me, Lucy.”

Other than Portugal, I haven’t traveled much because I’ve been so cautious with money, but I love how books can transport you almost anywhere.”

I hadn’t seen Felix since his visit to Toronto last fall, but every month, a yellow envelope of seeds arrived at the store. I had ten packets now. Zinnias and snap dragons and daisies. And every month, I sent him a book back.

If I could have stayed on the island forever, I think I would have. Being on PEI had a way of making life feel simpler. I breathed easier. Began to sleep better. Slowed down in a way I never could in the city.

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’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.”

It feels radical. “You are great,” I tell him, poking the cleft in his chin. “I wish I was like you.” “We’ve already got one of me. We need you to be exactly like you.” I stare at him. “Are you real?” He looks down at himself. “I think so, yes.” He pats his chest. “I feel real.”

I look at the listing Bridget sends me. Every few days, I check it again to see whether it’s still for sale. It’s a strip of green land, a stand of trees at its farthest edge, the ocean beyond. It’s just a field, but it could be a farm.

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.”

“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 used to wish that we had met earlier in life, when we were kids or teenagers, but now I think we found each other at the right time. We became adults together. Our friendship is how I learned to compromise. It’s how I learned that the families we make are as significant as the ones we’re born into. It’s how I learned that the greatest loves are not always romances.”