Fisher's Light

I should have known better than to let my guard down.

“Oh, Lucy. Sweet, innocent, pathetic Lucy. It’s really cute how you honestly think you’ve been the only one all these years. You were a virgin when we met and sorry, but I prefer a woman with a little more experience to get me through the nights away from home.”

I jerk my hands out from under his shirt, take a step back and stare at him in shock and horror. I’ve always, ALWAYS lived with the insecurities that I’ve never been enough for him physically and sexually, but he’s never made me feel like I was anything but absolutely perfect for him. Is he honestly telling me right now that he hasn’t been faithful? That some other woman warmed his bed and gave him things I couldn’t give while he was away from me? Sure, he had a lot more experience than I did when we met and I hated it. He’s right, I was a virgin, but he helped me lose some of my insecurities by teaching me all the ways to please him and make things feel good for myself. Over the years, we learned each other’s bodies and our sex life has always been good, but I never quite learned how to ask for more, never really understood what more meant. It wasn’t until that night in the kitchen two months ago, the night when he took me with all-consuming passion, that I realized what I truly needed from him. Maybe that’s what he’s always wanted and he hated that I didn’t give it to him. I would have given it to him. I wanted to give it to him more than he even knows, and it kills me to think that he shared that with another woman.

“Congratulations. You did it. You made me hate you,” I tell him as the tears fall silently down my face and he goes back to the bed, closing the lid on the suitcases and zipping them shut.

“Took you long enough,” he says with a sarcastic laugh. “Jesus, how much more shit were you going to put up with before you realized that? You just thought we could live happily ever after on this shithole island, grow old and die here? This place is eating me alive. Every time I come back here, I want to burn the entire fucking place down. It doesn’t get better when I come home to you, it gets fucking worse. You and your positivity and always trying to ‘fix’ me. This is it, babe. What you see is what you get, and every time I have to come home it gets darker and darker and I hate this life more and more.”

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 fucking 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.