It's Canada Day. Only the nation's biggest celebration of the year. Today is a bittersweet day for me. While I love Canada Day, it was also Carter's favourite holiday and it reminds me of him. I thought it would be harder to handle, but to my surprise, the morning has gone by with little to no ache in my heart.

I woke up before dawn and decided to go for a run. I left another note behind in case Warren woke up and I was still gone. Heading downstairs and sauntering into the kitchen for a breakfast muffin, I thought I was the only one awake. But Hazel was sitting at the breakfast bar, dressed in workout clothes.

We were both shocked that someone else could be crazy enough to get up before the sun peeks over the coastline. It was a little awkward at first, but after a moment of forced small talk between us, Hazel suggested we go on a run together since she knows her way around the area better than I do. I agreed.

By the time we got back, Warren and his parents had taken off to the grocery store to buy the supplies needed for tonight's barbeque. We both laughed at the note. Since when does Warren help someone go grocery shopping?

Since then, we've been dealing with the vanilla cupcakes we made yesterday; icing them with a simple white icing and decorating them with strawberries to resemble Canada's flag. While doing so, we've been discussing what flowers she should order for her wedding bouquet.

"Well," I say as I lick away some icing that's streaked across the back of my hand. I look up to see Hazel sucking on a spoonful of the stuff. I bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing at the irony of it all. All the calories we're putting on aside, it's so worth it. My mom was never much of a baker, meaning I never really got to do stuff like this. If I remember correctly, she told me she hated flour and how it coated everything like dust. "I know lilacs are your favourite flower, but they're not in season during August nor do they match the nautical theme. I'd suggest looking in to maybe getting a textured bouquet of blue delphiniums, red dahlias, baby's breath, mini carnations, roses, and some ferns. You don't have to add in all the flowers, of course – it might be too much. Maybe the bridesmaids could carry the roses."

Hazel stares at me and then smiles. "I knew there was a reason why I wanted you as my maid of honour. What would I do without you?"

I smile. After being in Vancouver and only doing work that's contributed to my credits or earning money, I'm enjoying being able to help and have some fun.

"Speaking of colours," Hazel says. "We need to discuss the bridesmaids' dresses."

"Navy-blue," I reply instantly. "And I think the style should be simple, too, so it doesn't overpower your wedding dress." I pause. "You do have a wedding dress, right?"

"Of course I do!" she laughs, elbowing me in the ribs. "I'm not that unorganized."

"Just making sure," I smile.

Hazel stares intently at me for several seconds. "I know you're not legitimately dating my brother, Nova."

My smile falters. I wanted to bring this up the day after Warren told me the truth, but we were interrupted every time I tried to.

"I know," I sigh, setting down a cupcake. "Warren told me the first night we were here."

"So was Easton telling the truth about my brother?"

I don't want to answer that question because I suddenly feel like I'm talking behind Warren's back. Of course Easton told her the truth, and it would take one simple word for me to confirm that. But the thing is, spending time with Warren has caused him to grow on me and I don't want to speak ill of him. Where this sudden urge to protect him and say that he's simply misunderstood has come from is beyond me. He's not misunderstood – he does what he does for God knows what reason.

"Yes," I reply, feeling like a terrible person.

When I look up at her, my stomach drops; all I can see is the disappointment of an older sister that cares deeply for her younger brother.

"And you don't feel upset that he's using you as an illusion against our parents?" she asks me.

I shake my head. "With all due respect, I'm using him, too. I'll admit, I was ticked at him when he made the proposal, but I'm not anymore. This has actually been kind of fun. Warren and I – we don't get along well as roommates, so this has been a good strategy for us to learn to get along better. I hate to admit it, but I kind of like him now. Back on campus, he tries to uphold this reputation – that typical bad boy persona girls tend to love. Here, though? He's completely different, and I like this side of him. He's down to earth and actually kind of funny." I roll my eyes. "No matter how inappropriate his jokes are."

I look up from the icing-slathered countertop and meet Hazel's gaze. There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that reminds me dangerously of Warren.

"What?" I ask, ignoring the sudden urge to start humming along to the band that's playing in the background. The Aces. Hazel introduced them to me this morning while we were running, and I like them.

Her grin broadens. "Someone has –"

The doorbell rings, cutting her off.

"Damn it," she mutters. She looks at me and holds up her icing-covered hands. "Nova, could you get the door?"

"No problem," I reply, wiping my hands on a wet towel.

As I walk to the front door, I wonder if this is what having an older sister would have been like; baking and talking about boys while guiltily eating icing. While growing up, I always wished I had an older sister. But now that I think about it, maybe life didn't decide to go that way because it knew, somehow, that Hazel would cross my path.

When I'm at the front door, I open it.

My mouth drops open. The two people standing at the door – I can't believe it's them. I even go as far as to pinch my inner forearm. And when I don't wake up in bed beside Warren, I can't control my excitement.

"Julia!" I exclaim, throwing my arms around her.

"Nova!" she replies, hugging me back.

"I can't believe you're here. Are you two the mysterious friends Hazel wouldn't tell us about?" I ask as I pull away.

It's only been a week since I last saw her but it feels like months. As always, Julia looks gorgeous; she's wearing a yellow sundress, her hair is tied up in a bun, and she's wearing big sunglasses with white framing. Easton stands next to her, towering over both of us. And, just because I'm happy Julia is here, I give him a hug.

"Whoa," Easton says, hugging me back. "Never thought I'd see the day when Nova decided to give me a hug."

"Shut up, East," I smile.

Since the moment I met Easton, I've liked him – he just has this vibe that attracts humans like a flame would attract a moth. I'll never forget the way he looked at me when Warren told him we were roommates. I think he was shocked that a woman could deny the infamous Warren Ashford.

"Well," I say, stepping aside. "Come in and make yourselves at home."

"This house is amazing," Julia says as she steps inside.

"Wait until you see the backyard," I reply, picturing us basking in the hot sun and sipping glasses of wine as we do in her apartment.

Just after they've kicked off their shoes, Hazel comes bounding in. "I figured it was you!" she exclaims.

Easton smiles, and the two of them meet each other halfway, dealing out hugs that make me cringe. They're so tight I wouldn't be surprised if the afternoon began with us driving one of them to the hospital because of broken ribs.

"Hey, Haze," Easton says. "I've missed you so fucking much."

"Language," Hazel scolds, slapping his shoulder.

Easton rolls his eyes. "C'mon – I'm a grown man. The vocabulary is going to slip."

They laugh, exchanging a series of words before Easton turns around to face us. He holds out his hand, which Julia takes, and says, "Hazel, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Julia Lowe. Julia, this is Warren's sister, Hazel Ashford – soon to be Hazel Williams."

I notice that Julia's stiff posture slackens when Hazel hugs her. Before coming here, I would have thought it stupid of her to let down her defences so easily. But Hazel has that effect on people – there's just something about her upbeat vibe that makes you want to trust her.

"It's nice to meet you, Julia," Hazel says. "East has told me so much about you."

Julia eyes Easton. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Hazel nods. "All good things, so there's no need to worry." She makes a motion with her hand and we all follow her. "Excuse the upcoming untidiness – Nova and I have been dealing with these cupcakes since early this morning."

As we walk to the kitchen, Julia and I fall back to let Easton and Hazel play catch-up. I don't know how long it's been since they last saw each other, but judging by the lack of silence, I believe it's been a while.

"So?" Julia whispers. "How has hanging with the psychotic ass been?"

A week ago, I would have whole-heartedly agreed with using that as the definitive term for Warren. Today, however, is different. And I find my next words slipping from my lips before I can prevent them. "He's not a total psychotic ass."

Julia stops and stares at me in disbelief. "Do you know who you're talking about? Are you crazy?"

"Of course I do. And no, I am not crazy. It's just...spending time with him has been different. He's been different. There's a side to him I never knew, and I like it."

Julia's eyes widen. "Oh my God, Nova. Do...Do you have a crush on Warren Ashford?"

"No!" I exclaim. I don't know where she's getting that from. Yes, he's attractive and maybe not as arrogant as I thought, but we're like oil and water: incompatible and unable to interact or coexist easily, as due to fundamental differences. We're a mathematical equation that would never have a solution.

"Then what is that supposed to mean?"

I shrug. "It just means that we never really gave him a chance; we never considered the fact that maybe he wants people to think he's the way he is when he's actually not."

"Whatever you say..." Julia trails off.

One of the many reasons I chose to become friends with Julia is because she's always been obstinate when it comes to her theories and opinions. It's something I like about her because our views on life are similar in some ways. Except when it comes to relationships. She thinks love is something that needs to be explored and tested like a hypothesis. I, however, think when you know, you know. There is no in-between or testing; the moment is instantaneous.

So I know I'm not going to be able to change her perception of my words. She thinks I have a crush on Warren, and she's going to stick with that.

But do you have a crush on him? The little voice inside my head pries with my logical thoughts. You've been spending a lot of time with him. Sleeping in the same bed. Watching movies together.

I shut my thoughts down. Now's not the time to think about something like this. These are the type of thoughts that require an in-depth analysis, which is something I need to do when I'm alone.

"Have you ever been to Halifax?" I ask Julia as we step into the kitchen. I notice that Easton is eagerly eyeing the cupcakes. "Don't you dare, Easton – those are for the party tonight."

"Oh, c'mon, Nova. Don't be such a drag. Hazel used to make these for me when I was a kid, and it's been years since I've had one of her vanilla bean cupcakes. Taking one isn't gonna hurt."

"No, it wouldn't. But knowing you, East, you're going to keep sneaking them behind our backs until there's nothing left."

Turning around, I see Warren leaning against the doorway with several bags hanging from his arms. The sunlight shining through the window casts streaks of golden light across his body, making the highlights of his hair stand out. His square jaw and sharp cheekbones look more defined than usual.

He looks as good as ever, but there's something about the smile on his face that makes him look even better. Ever since his return to Halifax, he's been more relaxed and, well, friendly.

On my lips, I feel the slightest smile come to life. In my stomach, I feel the butterflies awaken.

Speaking the truth, in some strange way, I've missed him. I'm a girl that becomes accustomed to normalities very easily. I've gotten used to sharing a room with him and seeing him every day, and now I guess I'm, dare I say it, used to hanging out with him.

"Shut it, Warren," Easton shoots back. "I have plenty of self-control when it comes to those goddamned cupcakes."

Warren laughs and then walks over to the only clear space of countertop to put the bags down. When he walks past me, I see bags of hamburger and hot dog buns, several boxes of hamburgers, and surprisingly, a box of vegetarian burgers.

I look at Warren, who has been watching me from the corner of his eye. He winks at me, and I swear my heart melts a little. He remembered. Just for me. Before I can prevent it from happening, joy rushes through me.

See? He's so thoughtful and sweet and...STOP!!

I mentally shake my head. What am I doing? I can't think about him like that. No way.

"Man, you have the self-control of a dog," Warren says. "These cupcakes are going to be gone before everyone gets here. Coach would kill you if he knew."

"Don't know what the hell you're talking about," Easton replies. He pulls up the hem of his navy-blue muscle shirt so we all get a prime view of his abs. "Coach would never be able to tell. I've got abs of steel, baby."

"Please," Warren scoffs, following Easton's lead. "My abs are ten times better than yours."

"Why don't we let the ladies decide?" Easton asks. He cocks an eyebrow at us. "Ladies, please tell Warren he's delusional."

Hazel elbows me in the side and mutters, "It was worse when they were younger. This is a step up, trust me."

I snort. Although their conversation is pointless, their banter is quite funny and endearing.

"I'm going to let Julia and Nova decide," Hazel says. She points at a lock of brown hair that's fallen from her bun. It's caked in icing. "I need to shower and get ready before Greyson and the rest of the guests arrive." She turns to me. "Do you mind cleaning the kitchen? I'll owe you one."

I shake my head. "I don't mind at all. Go get ready."

"You two have fun dealing with the little ones," she smiles.

"We're not little, Haze – I tower over you," Warren calls out.

"I am a twenty-three-year-old man that likes cupcakes," Easton says through a mouthful of the cupcake. "They're as good as always, Hazel."

"Thanks, East!" Hazel calls. "Try to have better self-control than a dog, though."

We snicker as Easton takes the last bite of the cupcake he grabbed. Shaking my head, I walk over to the sink and grab the soap out from underneath it. I've just turned on the hot water when I feel arms wrap around my waist. The motion shocks me for a moment, but then I'm hit with the familiar smoky sandalwood smell.

It's Warren.

His body is rock-hard against my back and the heat coming off of him is unexplainable. I don't know what he's doing – his parents aren't here and everyone else knows what we're doing and why we're doing it. The act doesn't need to happen.

But he continues on, dipping his head down to press his lips to my neck. It takes everything in my power to not melt into him, to tilt my head back and expose more of my skin for him to explore with those unnaturally soft lips.

"Missed you this morning," he says in a breathy voice.

"Went for a run," I reply, amazed by how steady I'm able to keep my voice.

"Figured that before I even read the note."

Daring to look at him, I glance over my shoulder. I'm instantly drawn into his blue eyes. I thought they were identical to Hazel's – the shape, the colour, the thickness of the lashes. But there is a difference. While Hazel's are dark like the sky just after the sun has set, Warren's are the colour of the Atlantic Ocean. Dark with a sense of vividness. Superlatively unique in a way I never thought to be possible.

He's smiling at me, too. Oh God, that smile. It's so contagious that I have to smile back at him.

I don't understand how he can do this to me. One minute I'm laughing at the very idea of us ever being something more than friends, and the next I'm fantasizing over what it would be like. It's a terrible thing for me to do, especially when considering the sense of betrayal I feel. I'm not supposed to move on. Especially when the guy I'm stumbling toward is a guy like Warren.

The type of guy that always leads to a broken heart.