Chapter 20
Lucy
Present Day
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened in town two weeks ago. Fisher’s father’s words keep popping up in my head every time I turn around. Am I in over my head? Am I just living in a fantasy where I think I can actually make this place work and keep it forever? I’m drowning in bills and I’ve been late entirely too often on the mortgage recently. When my parents took over this place, they thought it was an affordable mortgage and it was at the time, until the repairs and the cost of upkeep multiplied month after month. The only thing saving me right now is an inn full of guests and the steady income peak season rates provides.
Flopping down on the bed in one of the guest rooms at the cottage, I stare around the room with a heavy heart. With a different lighthouse theme in every guest room, the Fisher’s Lighthouse room has always been my favorite. Decorated in several shades of blue to represent the ocean you can see from the two large windows against the main wall, it’s filled with framed photos I took over the years of the lighthouse here on the south end of the island, as well as a couple of replica sculptures I’ve collected over the years. This room feels like home. This room is home. Pushing myself up from the bed, I walk over to the window and run my hand over the two-foot tall wood carving of the lighthouse that sits on the floor in between the two windows. It’s a near perfect replica of the lighthouse that you can just barely see in the distance out the windows it sits in front of. I don’t remember where it came from, but it’s always been my favorite decoration in the house. Maybe because when I look at it, it reminds me of better times…happier times. So many good memories happened for me out at that lighthouse and all of them involve Fisher.
As I make my way out of the bedroom, I slowly walk through the rest of the inn. With eleven oversized guestrooms, it was the largest place for guest accommodations when my grandparents built it. Now that the town has grown, there are several hotels with special amenities like in-ground pools and twenty-four-hour gyms that Butler House can’t compete with. That has always been what I loved about this place, though. It’s not a copycat of every other hotel all over the world with the same décor on every floor and people shouting and running up and down the halls. When you come to Butler House, you come to relax and enjoy the peace and tranquility that only an ocean town can bring. You come for the old world-style design that takes you back to a time when life was simpler.
Butler House is a traditional, wooden, Georgian double house with a center stairway and two large rooms on either side – a sprawling sitting room and the registration area on one side, and a library with a side bar on the other. The entire back of the house on the first floor is taken up by the kitchen and dining area, as well as a small laundry room. In the tradition of Georgian double houses, there is a fireplace at either end of the house, one in the sitting room and one in the library. Most of the house still has the original floors, aside from the areas that had to be redone after the damn pipe burst upstairs last year, ruining some of the pine planking.
Making my way through the kitchen and dining area to the sliding glass door at the back of the house, I pull it open and step out onto Butler House’s most popular feature. The veranda stretches along the entire length of the back of the house and faces the ocean. It’s lined with rocking chairs, all handmade by Fisher, but I take a seat in my personal favorite, the one with lighthouses carved into the headrest. Staring out at the water, I watch as the sky around it grows darker as the sun sets.
Two guests are seated at the far end of the veranda and I smile and wave at them as they lazily rock back and forth and enjoy the view. I try not to cry as I think about this place being torn down and traded in for a modern-day resort. No one will be able to sit here to stare out at the ocean with the twinkling lights of distant ships dotting the surface. They’ll be too busy splashing in the huge waterpark that will block the view and make people forget the beauty of the place they’re staying. I thought when I moved here that it would just be a stopping point for me before I went off to college and eventually traveled the world. I wanted so much to see what the world had to offer, but I quickly realized that this place, my island, was all that I needed.
Well, that and the love of a good man.
Things changed and, while I might have lost that man along the way, at least I still had the inn. Now, I wonder if maybe I’ve been living in the past too long. I’m trying to hold on to something that will never come back to me – the popularity of an old-fashioned inn and the man who fulfilled all my hopes and dreams…until he didn’t. Maybe it’s time for me to finally let go. Staying here, being so attached to this building is keeping me rooted in the past, still wishing for things that I have no business wishing for. Staying here keeps the memories of what might have been alive and it’s preventing me from moving on.
I hear the whoosh of the sliding glass door and turn to see Trip walk through it. He stares out at the ocean as he takes a seat in the rocking chair next to mine. We rock in silence for a few minutes before he finally speaks.
“You’re a stubborn one, Lucy girl. It’s always been one of the things I liked about you.”
I smile at his gruff voice, resting my head against the back of my chair.
“Sometimes, though, that stubbornness can make you blind to what’s right in front of you. I know you weren’t happy when I took that money Fisher gave you and paid for all the repairs on this place.”
I purse my lips, thinking back to that day a year ago when all I wanted to do was give up when I found out how much damage that busted pipe had done to the inn. I was still plenty angry about the divorce alone and, when I found out half of Fisher’s money had been deposited into my checking account without any notice, I was downright livid. I vowed never to touch that damn money, no matter what. Then, Trip went behind my back and touched it anyway.
“I realize you think of that money as a slap in the face, a way for him to prove he was better than you because he had more money, but you know him better than that.”
I stop rocking, turning my body to face the old man. “I thought I knew him better than that, but obviously I didn’t. Fine, so he didn’t send that money to be mean, but the damn monthly deposits were unnecessary and cruel and you know it. He wanted to erase the life we shared, but he still had to send those stupid reminders every month for the past year. Every month, right when I think I’m finally starting to forget that he’s out there somewhere, living a life without me, I get those damn deposits and it hits me all over again.”
Trip stops rocking, as well, and finally pulls his gaze away from the ocean to stare at me. “Wasn’t him, girl, and he didn’t know anything about it until you ripped him a new asshole. He had nothing to do with those monthly deposits, even though he would have given you every penny he had for the rest of his life if it were up to him. He knew better than to insult you like that, no matter how hard it was for him not to take care of you. If I’d known how pissy you were about that damn account, I would have told you the truth a long time ago so you didn’t jump to conclusions.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Trip Fisher, did you set up that account?”
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head at me. “I’m old, but I’m not stupid. You’d probably beat me with my own hammer if I did something like that. No, it wasn’t me. If you think about it hard enough, I’m sure you’ll figure out there’s one other person in the Fisher family who always had a soft spot for you.”
I stare at him quizzically for a moment before the answer smacks me in the face.
Shit.
Grace Fisher, the mother-in-law who tried her hardest to accept me when her husband hated the sight of me. She went out of her way to praise me when her husband wasn’t around, checked up on me when Fisher was deployed and made sure I was doing okay with the inn. I should have known she might do something like that, but my anger with Fisher made me blind to what was right in front of me, just like Trip said.
I feel awful. I tore into Fisher at the beach two weeks ago and he had no idea what I was talking about. I blamed him for something he didn’t do and let my anger get the best of me.
“He’s at my house, working on some stuff in the basement,” Trip says casually as he resumes rocking and staring out at the water.
“A little presumptuous of you, don’t you think? What makes you think I care where he is right now?”
Trip just laughs and ignores my question. Of course he knows I care, the man is like a damn mind reader and knows I’m going to feel guilty about what I just learned and want to apologize.
I push myself up casually from the rocking chair, making a show of stretching and acting like I don’t fully intend to hightail it straight to Trip’s house when I step off this porch.
“I think I’ll just check on some paperwork and call it a night. You gonna stay here for a little while?” I ask him casually.
He nods and gives me a wink. “Yep. Think I’ll sit right here for, oh, maybe an hour or two and enjoy your view. It’s the best one on the island. You have fun with your paperwork now, and don’t worry about me.”
Patting him on the shoulder, I turn and head to the sliding door and pull it open. Trip calls to me as I step inside.
“Spare key’s under the welcome mat on the front porch.”
I growl at him and slam the sliding door closed as I stomp through the house.
Irritating, meddling old man.
Pushing open the door to Trip’s house, I hear the soft cadence of music coming from the basement. I recognize the song immediately and my heart beats faster. “Storm” by Lifehouse was a song I played on repeat the first few weeks after Fisher left. I was like a teenage girl with a broken heart, listening to depressing songs while I cried out my pain against my pillow.
“If I could just see you, everything would be alright. If I’d see you, this darkness would turn to light.”
The song speaks of the person you love leaving you to drown, and it was a perfect representation of the loss I felt after Fisher left me. Listening to it back then ripped my already fragile heart into even smaller pieces. Hearing it now takes me back to that time and makes me want to claw at my chest.
I move in a daze, the sound drawing me in like it has a magnetic pull, needing to torture myself further with the softly broken words that haunted my dreams for months. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I pause and stare at the sight in front of me. Fisher, his back to me, is in a pair of tan cargo shorts and a dark blue t-shirt, bent over something he’s working on. The muscles in his arms ripple as he slides a piece of sand paper over the wood, pressing down hard to get it as smooth as possible.
His hands and forearms are covered in dust from the sanding and I think about all the times I’d sit out on our front porch and watch him do the exact same thing, completely in awe of him and the beauty he created with those hands. The same hands that worked tirelessly to make something so beautiful out of an old piece of wood touched me with tenderness and love.
I keep walking towards him, drawn to his body and his presence just like I always have been. My foot bumps against a piece of wood leaning against the wall, knocking it over, and the noise has Fisher’s head jerking up in my direction.
He stares at me in surprise, his eyes traveling over my features, and I wonder what he sees on my face right now. The song is still playing, the words swirling around me, taking me back to a time when I felt lost and alone and needed him. Just…needed him.
“I will get lost into your eyes. I know everything will be alright.”
His brown eyes stare into mine and I think about all the times he looked at me, really looked at me, and saw me with clear eyes, a clear mind and a clear heart, just like he’s doing now. I want to tell him that I have no idea what I’m doing here, that I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and I haven’t since he left. Now that he’s back, I feel even more lost and confused, like I’m twisting and upside down in a wave in the middle of a hurricane. I have no idea which way is up and I can’t seem to find my way to the surface.
Tossing the sandpaper down without a word, Fisher stalks across the room to me, his hands cupping my cheeks and his lips crashing down against mine before I can even blink. His tongue slides past my lips and his body pushes against mine until my back hits the stairwell wall behind me. As soon as his tongue swirls around mine, every thought flies from my mind. I clutch at the front of his shirt and pull him closer, needing more. His thighs and his hips and his stomach press against mine and the weight of his body pushing against me makes it hard to breathe, but I don’t even care. I don’t need air when his breath is in my mouth, giving me life.
I didn’t realize how much I missed the taste and the feel of him until right at this moment. Fantasies and memories are nothing compared to the real thing. I deepen the kiss, pushing harder against his tongue, tasting peppermint and coffee and something that is so uniquely Fisher that my heart beats faster, thrilled at having it back after missing it for so long. Our mouths push and pull against each other and Fisher takes all I have to give with his lips and tongue. Our heads change positions, back and forth as his hands tighten their grip on my face, pulling my mouth harder against his so he can punish me with his lips and tongue. I remember every moment I’ve kissed this man; the countless times fly through my mind and I lose myself in him and forget the obstacles still standing between us. I moan into his mouth and, just as quickly as the kiss began, it ends. He drops his hands from my face and I immediately feel cold air on my cheeks instead of the warmth of his palms as he takes a few steps back from me, breathing deeply and running one hand nervously through his short, dark hair.
“Jesus, Lucy,” Fisher mutters under his breath.
A flicker of the memory of Stanford muttering the same thing to me a few weeks ago floats through my mind, but I push it away. Stanford’s curse was filled with shock and a touch of irritation, while Fisher’s is filled with nothing but want and need.
Stanford. Shit! What the hell am I doing?
“Lucy, I—”
Pushing myself away from the wall, I edge around him and over to what he was working on, cutting off whatever he was going to say. I don’t want his damn apology. If he apologizes to me right now, I will lose my shit all over this basement. I was an idiot for losing my mind as soon as I came down here, but that stupid song and this stupid man are screwing with my head. With his broad shoulders and his strong arms wrapped around me, I felt safe and secure. The light, woodsy smell of his cologne is still burned into my nostrils and the taste of his mouth is still imprinted against my tongue. My cheeks and chin burn from the scratch of his beard and I have to take a few deep breaths to stop myself from turning around to kiss him again. I have a boyfriend. I shouldn’t be making out with my ex-husband, who was probably two seconds away from telling me he never meant to kiss me so forcefully, so fucking completely that I forgot about the man in my life I’m supposed to building a future with and all of the ways Fisher hurt me.
“This is beautiful, Fisher,” I tell him, changing the subject and running my hands over the sign he was working on when I came down here.
He loves talking about his work and it’s the best way to distract him from the giant fucking elephant in the room.
“Thanks,” he replies, coming up to stand next to me, but keeping a few feet between us.
I stare at the words Ruby’s Fudge Shop intricately carved in the middle with a beautiful, swirling design of candies and other confections surrounding it.
“I took your advice and decided to apologize with some gifts. This is the last one, and I’m hoping to finish it tonight so I can drop it off tomorrow.”
Stan’s Diner, The Lobster Bucket and Ruby’s Fudge Shop – the three businesses he damaged last year before he left the island. It touches my heart that he listened to me and did something so thoughtful for these people.
“That’s amazing, Fisher. I’m sure they appreciate it,” I tell him, trying not to let this sweet side of Fisher turn my insides to mush.
I change the subject again, bringing it back to my real reason for coming here. It wasn’t to kiss him and it definitely wasn’t to see the old Fisher, the one who always melted my heart.
“Look, I’m sorry to drop in like this, but I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved on the beach. Trip told me it wasn’t you who deposited that money, so… I’m sorry. I was a total bitch,” I explain, sliding my hands into the back pocket of my shorts and kicking my toe against some of the wood debris littering the floor at my feet.
“You don’t have to apologize, Lucy, it’s fine. I already had a talk with my mom and she’s going to stop the deposits. She just… Well, you know how she is. She doesn’t know any better way to say she’s sorry or to help someone out,” he says with a shrug.
“Thanks. And will you tell her thank you for me? I know her heart was in the right place, but… you know, it’s not really appropriate considering…” I trail off, not bothering to add, “Considering we’re divorced and I’m dating someone else even though we just made out a few minutes ago and my body is still burning, wanting more.”
“I’m glad you stopped by, actually,” he tells me, moving to the corner of the room. He wipes his hands on the rag tucked in the back of his shorts before bending down and lifting the lid off of a box, rummaging around inside until he finds what he wants. Standing back up, he turns and walks over to me, holding a few folded pieces of paper out to me. “I wanted to give you these.”
I take them from his hand, trying not to make a big deal when our fingers brush against each other and I have to force myself not to sigh.
“What is this?” I ask as I start to unfold the papers.
He quickly reaches out and wraps his hand around mine to stop me.
“Don’t open it now. Just… you know, later. Whenever. It’s just something I found that I wanted you to have.”
His free hand comes up to my face and he brushes his fingertips against my cheek while my heart stutters and I hold my breath. “Got a little dust on you before. Sorry about that.”
The smirk on his face tells me he isn’t sorry in the least about putting his dusty hands on my face and dragging my mouth to his. I quickly take a step back so I can breathe again and his hand drops from my cheek.
I clutch the papers he gave me in my hands and continue backing away from him towards the stairs. I need some distance right now. If I spend another second down here alone with him, I have no idea what the hell I’ll do, but it will most likely be something even more stupid than kissing him.
“I should be going,” I tell him lamely. “Again, I’m sorry about that day on the beach.”
I turn away from his stare and rush up the steps. His voice calls to me as I get to the top.
“See you soon, Lucy in the sky with diamonds.”