Chapter 37
Lucy
Present Day
“I can’t believe it’s already the middle of September,” I grumble, burrowing myself closer to Fisher under the covers. “I miss summer.”
Fisher laughs, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me tight.
“According to the weather report, today is going to be one of the last hot, sunny days for a while. You should take advantage of it,” he tells me.
“I’m planning on it,” I inform him as I slide my hands down the front of his bare chest, across his stomach, and run my fingers teasingly above his groin. “I’m meeting Ellie down at the beach and we’re going to lay around like bums all day.”
I wrap my hand around his quickly thickening length and he groans, tossing his head back on the pillow. I take my time sliding my hand up and down his cock as his hips begin thrusting up to meet me, enjoying the sounds that he makes as I tease him by moving my hand fast and hard and then slowing it down, barely grazing him with my palm.
After the night in the kitchen when he finally let go, the last few weeks with Fisher have been nothing short of amazing. We’ve christened every room in the inn more than once. We’ve had hard, fast sex with most of our clothes on and we’ve taken our time, stripping each other and slowly making love. He talks to me when he’s having a bad day and he’s started to open up to me about his time overseas, what he saw, what he did and how those things affected him in return. He let me run my fingers over the scars on the back of his shoulder and kiss each spot marked by the shrapnel that imbedded in his skin after he finally told me about how he sustained his injury. My heart broke for him learning that men he considered brothers were killed during the explosion and I understand now why he was so angry when he came home, feeling like the injury wasn’t ‘real’ enough to warrant a ticket stateside.
I love him more and more each day that I spend with him, but something keeps me from saying the words. They’re on the tip of my tongue every time he looks at me, every time he touches me and every time he shows me how much he loves me, but I still feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world the first time I fell in love with him, and it feels like a dream that I’ve been able to do it a second time. How many people get a second chance at love with the only person they’ve ever held in their heart?
Pushing aside my negative thoughts, I slide on top of him and straddle his waist. Fisher moves his hands to my hips and helps me lift myself up so I can position him right where I need him. I slide down slowly on top of him until he’s seated fully inside of me. I begin rocking back and forth on top of him, pressing my hands against his chest to help give me leverage. He brings one hand up to my face and holds it in his palm, staring up at me as I ride him, moving slowly and letting my need for him consume me and erase everything else from my mind. I’ll never get tired of these moments with him, when all we have to do is look into each other’s eyes and feel our bodies moving as one and everything else melts away, leaving just the two of us without a care in the world.
My orgasm comes fast and hard, even though we’re moving slowly and taking our time. I lean down and press my lips to Fisher’s, kissing him with all the love that I have as I come. He wraps his arms around me and slowly lifts his hips off the bed, pushing in and out of me at a languid pace until his own release takes hold of him and he jerks his hips against me, coming with my name on his lips.
I collapse on top of his body, rolling off of him to my side after a few minutes and resting my head on his chest. As his fingertips lazily trace patterns on my back, I blurt out something that has been on my mind for years.
“Why didn’t you ever write to me?”
His fingers still on my back and I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about the past and how all the things he said to me the day everything fell apart were lies, but he never mentioned the letters. I’d like to believe that he was lying when he told me he didn’t want to write to me, but he’s never given me any explanation about those words he threw at me.
With a deep sigh, he goes back to running his fingers over the skin of my back.
“I DID write to you. I just never sent them,” he admits softly.
Lifting my head from his chest, I turn and stare at him in shock.
“For every letter you wrote me, I wrote one in return. Then, I’d read through them and realize how depressing and pathetic they sounded and I couldn’t bring myself to send them,” he explains. “All I could write about was how much I missed you, how much I needed you and how much I hated being away from you. I knew it was hard enough on you being here all that time with me so far away and I didn’t want to make it more difficult. I also didn’t want you to worry about me and a lot of the stuff I wrote would’ve freaked you out. I detailed my days and the shit I saw and you didn’t need to read about that. You didn’t need to know those things. It would have just been worse each time I went back.”
I tilt my head to the side and shake it back and forth. “You should’ve sent them. You should’ve shared those things with me. All this time, I honestly thought it didn’t bother you being away from me so often and that you didn’t miss me as much as I missed you.”
He cups my face in his hands and stares into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hate that I made you feel that way. I hate that I never let you know how much it killed me to be away from you. I hate that I made you second-guess everything I felt for you.”
Pulling one of his hands away from my face, I kiss his palm before pulling his hand against my chest. “No more secrets, promise me. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever you’re thinking, you have to share it with me. We have to be open and honest with each other about everything.”
He leans forward and kisses my lips. “I love you and I promise.”
I curl into his side and rest my cheek on his shoulder. He continues to whisper words of love to me as my eyes grow heavy and I drift off to sleep. The alarm on his cell phone wakes us both from a sound sleep an hour later.
“What are you doing today?” I ask as he slides out from under the covers and grabs his clothes from the end of the bed.
“Oh, you know, just some running around. What time are you meeting Ellie? Want me to pack you guys a lunch or something?” he asks, quickly changing the subject.
He’s done that a few times lately when I’ve asked him about his plans for the day. I know he’s hiding something, but even when I flat out asked him what he’s up to, he changes the subject. I even caught him digging through the attic a few weeks ago and he looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar when I went up there to see what he was doing. I can’t really be mad at him when I’ve been keeping a little secret of my own and I instantly feel guilty about making him promise to never keep anything from me. It’s something that will fix all of my problems, but will undoubtedly piss Fisher off, so I’ll leave him to his secrets until I’m ready to divulge my own.
Fisher finishes getting dressed, leaning across the bed to give me a kiss. “I’ll pack a few things in a basket for you guys and leave it on the kitchen counter. Don’t forget your sunscreen and if you wear that hot, red bikini, keep it on until I get home.”
He kisses my nose and I laugh as he pushes himself off the bed and heads out the door.
“I hate you so much right now. Why do you have to look so hot when I look like a whale?” Ellie complains.
I just came in from the water and I’m standing in front of her drying off while she stares up at me in disgust from her beach chair.
I took Fisher’s suggestion and went with the red bikini, even though I’ve secretly hated this thing ever since I bought it on a whim. I don’t think I have the body to pull it off, but when he saw it in my dresser drawer last week, he started drooling and asked me to model it for him. Let’s just say this red bikini didn’t stay on for more than a couple of seconds that day, so it’s starting to grow on me.
“You don’t look like a whale, you’re pregnant and beautiful,” I remind her. “And you’re barely showing, so quit your bitching.”
I spread out my towel next to her and flop down on my back, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm me and dry off the rest of my body.
“Did you tell Fisher about Stanford yet?” Ellie asks.
I squint open one eye and glare up at her. “No. And I thought I told you we weren’t going to discuss this until I made a final decision?”
Ellie shrugs and rests her head back against her chair with her face turned up towards the sun. “I wake up puking every morning, I get up seventeen times to pee at night and my fiancé uses baby talk to speak to my stomach. Please, give me something to live for. This is exciting and we SHOULD be talking about it.”
I sit up on my towel and cross my legs in front of me.
“It is kind of exciting, right? I mean, this isn’t a completely insane idea, is it?” I ask.
“Hell, no! I mean, when you first told me Stanford called you with a proposal, I laughed my ass off and almost got on the ferry to the mainland to kick his ass, but I really do think this is going to work,” she tells me.
The thing I haven’t told Fisher is that I’ve been in contact with Stanford. After I broke up with him and pretty much embarrassed him in front of the whole town, he left the island with his tail between his legs and I didn’t hear from him again until a few weeks ago. I felt a little bad at first about the way things ended, but then I remembered the shit he said to me. Fisher also set about wiping all traces of him from my mind, so pretty soon it was like Stanford never even existed.
Getting a call from him out of the blue was a shock. When he told me that he quit working for Fisher’s father as soon as he got back to the city, it threw me even more. He overheard the things Jefferson said to me that day at the ballpark and there had been some other questionable things Jefferson had said and done in the time that Stanford worked for him that made him uncomfortable and forced him to realize that the man was not to be idolized. He quit and had a job with another, larger corporate bank with locations nationwide within a week.
He felt bad about the way we parted and he still wanted to do whatever he could to help me with the inn. I immediately distrusted him and assumed he was trying once again to buy the place from me, but he had a better idea. His new company specialized in small business loans and he asked if I would consider refinancing the mortgage on the inn with his bank. I politely told him no and tried to explain to him that having to deal with my ex-boyfriend for the duration of my loan would be almost as bad as having to deal with my ex-father-in-law. I ended the call and assumed that would be the end of it. Within an hour, the president of the bank was calling, giving me his assurance that my account would be serviced by another loan officer and that Stanford’s name would only be on the paperwork as the referring party for commission purposes. He went on to explain that they were committed to keeping the small businesses in America afloat, giving them the lowest possible finance rates permitted by law. I really didn’t want to believe that there might be a chance to save Butler House without having to crawl on my hands and knees and beg Fisher’s father, but it was hard NOT to believe it when the bank sent me a draft of the paperwork. The interest rate is almost seventy-five percent less than what I’m paying now with Fisher’s Bank and Trust and it would cut my monthly payments almost in half.
“When are you going to tell Fisher?” Ellie asks.
I shrug and look out at the ocean. “I don’t know. When is it ever a good time to tell the man you love that the guy you were dating is the one who is going to make your dreams come true?”
“Never,” Ellie informs me.
“Awww, keeping secrets already? Tsk, tsk, that’s never a good thing.”
Whipping my head around, I stare up at the one person on this island I hate more than Fisher’s father.
“I think you made a wrong turn. The skank beach is a mile that away, Melanie,” Ellie says, pointing to the left with a sweet smile.
“You’re one to talk, getting knocked up before you’re married,” Melanie sneers.
Ellie continues to smile as she lifts both of her hands in the air and gives Melanie two middle fingers.
I push myself up from the ground, feeling much more comfortable being eye-level with Melanie than having to look up at her, but I quickly realize how bad I look standing next to her and immediately want to wrap a towel around me. The red bikini I’m wearing made me feel sexy until I stood next to Melanie with her long legs, fake boobs and flat, toned stomach. The white string bikini she’s wearing consists only of three triangles precariously concealing her goods and doesn’t help my confidence much, either.
Every time I see this woman around town, all I can think about are Fisher’s hands on her ass and his mouth pressed against hers that night at Barney’s. He swore to me that nothing happened between them, but I still have to swallow a few times to keep my lunch down where it belongs just thinking about that night.
“I have no idea how you do it, Lucy,” Melanie says with a shake of her head.
I sigh and take the bait, even though I know better. “How I do what?”
Melanie laughs and brushes her long, perfect, shiny blonde hair off of one shoulder. “How you managed to get the richest, most eligible bachelor on the island to propose to you, kicked him to the curb and then got that hot piece of ass ex-husband following you around like a puppy. I’d say you must be good in bed, but that’s obviously not the case since Fisher practically begged me to fuck him and give him a taste of what he was missing.”
White-hot rage flows through me and I don’t even think about my actions. I raise my arm and smack that smug look right off of her face. She yelps loudly, causing a few vacation stragglers enjoying one of the last nice days at the beach to sit up and take notice.
“Daaaaaamn,” I hear Ellie mutter softly, but I don’t pay any attention to her.
“You are a skanky piece of trash and the only reason Fisher went anywhere near you a year ago is because he was drunk,” I shout, not caring that people can hear me.
“You are a BITCH!” Melanie screams.
“At least I’m not a scheming whore who tried to steal someone else’s husband!” I fire back.
“I didn’t steal anything! He CHOSE me, and you just can’t stand that, can you? You weren’t good enough for him and you couldn’t satisfy him, so he chose someone who could,” she argues.
“Nice try. I happen to know nothing happened between the two of you, so give it a fucking rest already,” I tell her with a roll of my eyes.
She laughs right in my face and leans in closer. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, and maybe one day you’ll believe it. He was so angry and full of rage that night, and you just walked away from him. Don’t worry, sugar. I took care of your man after you left, right in the bathroom at Barney’s. When he fucked me against the wall, he shouted MY name when he came, not yours.”
My heart starts beating frantically in my chest and I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying my damnedest not to cry. I will not cry in front of this heartless bitch or give her any indication that her words are killing me and making me doubt Fisher in any way.
“Jesus, LOOK at you! Do you honestly think he’d want you when he could have me?”
I start to lunge for her when I feel a pair of arms wrap around me from behind, dragging me away while Ellie jumps up from her chair and starts screaming at Melanie.
“Lucy, calm down, baby,” Fisher tells me.
I jerk out of his arms when he gets me far enough away from Melanie that I won’t be tempted to punch her in the nose with my fist this time.
My pride and my heart have both cracked in half and my head is filled with memories of things I’d rather forget. I hate Fisher for making me look like a fool with Melanie and I hate Melanie for throwing it in my face and for making me doubt everything I thought to be true. I hate myself for being so fucking weak where both of them are concerned, but at least I didn’t keep my mouth shut with Melanie. She can wear my handprint on her face for the rest of the day as a reminder to stop fucking with me.
I let the tears fall while my back is to Melanie and Ellie is still ripping into her.
“Hey, what happened?” Fisher asks softly as he reaches for me.
I step away from him and swipe angrily at my tears.
“Don’t. Please, just don’t right now,” I beg him.
I feel inferior and I feel worthless and I hate that I’m questioning my own worth. I hate that I feel like I’m back in high school all over again, wondering why the king of the jocks and the hottest guy in school wants anything to do with me. I’m a grown fucking woman and I feel pathetic for letting Melanie get to me.
I start walking away from Fisher and he tries to grab onto my arm, but I jerk it out of his grasp. “No! Just please, leave me alone right now!”
He realizes I’m serious and he stops trying to follow me. As I start moving faster and run up the veranda stairs to the inn, I hear him begin to shout.
“What did you do? What the FUCK did you say to her?!”
I race through the sliding door and run up to my room, the tears coming fast and hard until I can barely see.