Dear Bridget, I Want You(40)

I forced a smile but knew it came out as sad. “Yes, I do, Simon. And although my confusion over you is a big part of my uncertainty right now, this house has a lot of memories that I need to get away from to clear my head.”

He looked sad. “I understand.”

“You do?”

Simon nodded. “One of the reasons I came to the US was because of Blake. After he died, I was stuck in place for a long time. So much reminded me of him. I felt guilty when I forced myself to not think about our memories, and I felt sad when I allowed myself to think about them. It was a no-win situation. I applied to college here on a whim. Hadn’t even spoken to my parents about it because I didn’t want anyone to analyze my decision for what it was.”

I sat down on the other side of the suitcase. “I guess you understand a lot more than I thought you would.”

We looked into each other’s eyes. “Were you even going to leave me a note?”

“I was. That’s why I’m up so early. I tried to write it last night a half dozen times, but couldn’t figure out what I wanted to say.”

Simon gave me that sexy, half smile I loved so much. “You should have just gone with whatever was on your mind. The last time you did that was quite memorable.”

We laughed together, and it seemed to have broken the tension a bit. “I’ll be back in a week.”

Simon stood. “Think about things while you’re gone. If you decide that it’s best that I find somewhere else to live—no hard feelings.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good time with Brendan.” He pointed to my suitcase with his chin. “And get rid of that one-piece suit you have packed on top. Go out and get yourself a bikini. You can totally rock it, Bridge.”





Fort Lauderdale weather was beautiful this time of the year. My mom had taken Brendan down to the fishing pier to pick up some bait, while I went to the mall to pick him up a new bathing suit. I was shocked when he couldn’t fit into the one from last year. Obviously he was growing, but I guess I hadn’t realized how much he’d sprouted. Seeing last year’s baggy bathing suit that had reached his knees turn into tight, hot shorts was really an eye opener as to how big he was getting.

Tommy Bahama was generally out of my price range, but the front of the store had a huge fifty-percent-off sale that caught my eye, so I wandered in. There wasn’t a kid’s section, but I was able to pick Brendan up a pair of Hawaiian-looking swim trunks in a men’s extra small that looked like it would fit. On my way to the register, I passed a rack with colorful bikinis all priced at under twenty dollars. What the hell? Remembering what Simon had said, I decided to try one on just for fun. It had been a good ten years since my stomach had seen daylight, but trying one on wouldn’t hurt.

I was amazed that it actually looked pretty good. I wasn’t eighteen years old and stick thin anymore, but Simon was right—I could totally rock this suit. My curves didn’t look half bad in a bright, floral-colored two-piece—and it coordinated with Brendan’s. If only I had the nerve to wear it out in public. As if on schedule, my phone buzzed from inside my purse. Before changing, I dug it out. Seeing Simon’s name on the screen had my heart pounding in my chest.



Simon: Get yourself a new suit while you’re out.



What? How could he have possibly known I was out buying a bathing suit?



Bridget: How the heck do you know I’m out shopping?



Simon: Brendan texted me to show me the worms he was buying and said you were out getting him swim trunks because his didn’t fit.



I hadn’t known Brendan even knew Simon’s number.



Bridget: Does he text you often?



Simon: Mostly it’s just pictures of what you guys are doing.



Wow. I had no idea.



Bridget: Well then I’m glad he’s not here right now to take a picture.



Simon: Why? What are you doing?



Bridget: I’m standing in the fitting room at Tommy Bahama. My plan was to pop into Target and pick up Brendan a suit but instead I’m in Galleria Mall trying on a bikini. My stomach is whiter than milk.



The dots started to bounce around and then stopped. Then started again.



Simon: Send me a pic.



There was no way I was sending him a picture. My selfie skills were pretty weak, and while I didn’t look horrible, it wasn’t Simon worthy. Before I could respond back, Simon texted again.



Simon: Stop thinking about it, luv. Send me a shot. I won’t let anyone else see it.



Against my better judgment, I snapped a pic in the mirror. It wasn’t half bad. Another text from Simon came in.



Simon: I know you just took one. Now stop analyzing it and send it to me.