Fisher's Light(16)

He lifts up the suitcases, walks them to the doorway next to me and tosses them out into the hallway.

“Get out so I can finally f*cking breathe without you always trying to ‘help’ me. I don’t want or need your help. You better be gone by the time I get back.”

He walks past me and out the door, stepping over the suitcases as he goes. I hear his shoes pounding against the hardwood floor and then seconds later, the slamming of the front door.

I sink to my knees and then crumble to my side on the carpet, curling my body into the tightest ball I can. If I make myself small enough, maybe it won’t hurt as bad. Maybe I won’t feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest and stomped to pieces. Maybe if I’m small enough, this won’t feel like the biggest betrayal and most soul crushing moment of my entire life.

If I’m small enough, maybe I won’t want to die from the enormity of the pain.

If I’m small enough, maybe I won’t feel like such a failure.





Chapter 6




Lucy

Present Day


“You are so beautiful, it takes my breath away,” Stanford whispers in my ear after he places a kiss on my cheek.

I laugh uncomfortably and rest my hand on top of his on the table. It’s been a long time since anyone called me beautiful, and I try my best to accept the compliment and not brush it off. I know I’m not classically beautiful. Contrary to what Trip said this morning, I’m not all skin and bones. I have curves and thighs that I hate, freckles on my face that piss me off and a nose that’s too small for my features. I’m small and short and most of the time, people call me cute. Fisher used to always tell me I was adorable, that he wanted to put me in his pocket and carry me around with him everywhere. But when we were alone, naked in bed, he worshiped every part of my body. He was the only one who could get away with calling me beautiful and sexy and actually make me believe it.

Get it together, Lucy. You’re on date with another man. Stop thinking about Fisher.

While Stanford tells me about his day clearing up accounts at Fisher’s Bank and Trust, I take the time to study him. Six years older than me at nearly thirty-seven, with short blonde hair he keeps slicked back from his forehead, light blue eyes and a clean-shaven face, he’s definitely a good-looking man. He’s not the type of man I ever thought I’d be attracted to, but I also never thought I would be out in the dating world again, so none of that really matters. He always looks put-together, wearing clothing that probably costs more than the monthly upkeep fees on the inn and he never has a hair out of place, but he’s also funny and treats me well. He’s incredibly smart and a huge book nerd just like myself, even though my book preferences have been the cause of his raised eyebrows on more than one occasion. It’s only been a little over a month, but I already feel like I’ve known him for much longer. He’s easy to talk to and he always has great suggestions and ideas for things I can do at the inn to bring in more revenue and increase business. As I tick off all of his qualities in my head, I realize he’s everything that Fisher isn’t. Regardless of his family’s wealth, Fisher is a blue-collar worker at heart. He likes to get dirty and he never cared if his clothes were name brand or from Target. He was a Marine through and through – intense, focused, direct, loyal…well, I guess not always loyal.

Thinking about my ex-husband is definitely not appropriate when I’m on a date with another man. A good man, a steady man, a man I feel like I already know would never throw words at me that were sure to cut me in half. It’s been a damn year, why can’t I just forget? A year where the only contact was via an envelope filled with divorce papers. Even after all the things he said to me, I still thought he might come back. He’d get better, he’d get help and he’d come back to me. Those divorce papers were the end of everything. Every dream, every hope and every idea I’d ever had about love.

I hate that everything on this island reminds me of him. Everywhere I go, everywhere I look, there’s a memory of the two of us together. It doesn’t help that I know he’s close. He’s in this town, breathing the same air as me, looking out at the same ocean and walking the same streets. Shoving those thoughts firmly from my mind, I flip Stanford’s hand over and intertwine my fingers with his. He stops talking and leans closer to me.

“Is everything okay, Luce? You seem a little distracted tonight.”

There it is, the one thing in the negative column for Stanford. I really hate that he calls me Luce. I know it’s a common nickname for Lucy, but I feel like he’s calling me loose. Every time he says it, I inwardly cringe. Seriously, though, if that’s the only thing I don’t like about him, I need to count myself lucky. I wet my lips with my tongue and I watch as he stares at the movement, his eyes narrowing as I glide my tongue across my bottom lip. It makes my body heat with excitement, knowing that he wants me. He’s told me more than once, but seeing it is better than hearing it.