Silence fills the room and other than the tick of the clock on the wall above the kitchen sink, no one makes a sound or moves. I think Lucy and I are both in shock at how much Trip shared with us. Going by the fact that he’s staring at his hands in silence, I think even Trip himself is in shock over spilling his guts all over this table in front of us. I always thought he was somewhat crazy for never finding anyone else, for never dating or getting married again, but I understand him so much more now than I ever did before.

I stare at Lucy’s profile as she reaches over and quietly rests her hands on top of Trip’s on the table. I look at this woman, who is my heart and my soul and my entire world, and I get it now. I get why Trip chose to be alone all these years. If she decides that this isn’t going to work between us or that she can’t trust me or love me like she did before, I know I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than pretend to love someone as much as I do her. Every other woman would pale in comparison and my heart would never be in it. I know that I have to do whatever it takes to get her to love me again. I have to break down those last couple of walls she put up and fight for her as hard as I can.

Lucy is it for me, forever, and I’m going to make damn certain she knows that.

“Alright, that’s enough sharing for one lifetime. You two kids get your asses out of here and let me watch Wheel of Fortune in peace,” Trip suddenly announces, getting up from the table and wondering off into the living room.

Lucy and I laugh together as we watch him leave. I stand up quickly and pull her chair out for her and we shout our good-byes to him over the noise of the television as we make our way outside.

I’m not going to let Lucy keep me out. I’m not going to let her keep whatever is bothering her inside. If we’re going to make this work, we’re going to get through everything and we’re going to do it together.

Chapter 35

Lucy

Present Day

Fisher and I walk silently, hand-in-hand through town. A storm started brewing while we were at Trip’s house and a few raindrops begin to fall as we make our way back to the inn. By the time we get to the end of Main Street, the couple of raindrops have turned into a full-on downpour and we run the remaining blocks to Butler House. Fisher holds the front door open for me and I race inside, shaking out my wet hair and wiping off my face as I head towards the kitchen.

It’s late and Ellie turned off most of the lights on the first floor before she left for the day. The hallway leading to the kitchen is dark except for a couple of electric sconces that glow with soft lighting on the wall, guiding my way. I hear Fisher’s heavy footsteps following behind me as I go and I’m tempted to tell him to go back to Trip’s. That story he told us tonight was almost too much for me, hit too close to home, and I need some time alone to think. I can’t think rationally when Fisher is close to me. I can’t breathe for fear that something bad is looming, just waiting to ruin this little fairytale we’ve created the last two months. The more I listened to Trip, the more I realized this is not a fairytale. There’s still something standing between us that I haven’t been able to bring myself to confront him about and I can’t take it anymore. Subtlety is clearly not working, because he’s still holding himself back with me and we can’t move forward until all of our issues are out in the open and he finally lets go.

“Man, can you believe Trip?” Fisher asks as we walk into the kitchen. I don’t bother turning on the bright, overhead light as I pull open a drawer and grab a dishtowel to dry off my face and arms. There’s a small lamp plugged in on the counter that gives off enough light that I can see what I’m doing.

“I can’t believe he told us all of that tonight,” Fisher continues as he walks up behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders.

I pull out from under his hands and take a few steps away from him before turning around. “What the hell are we doing?”

Tossing the towel onto the counter, I cross my arms and stare at Fisher. He’s so Goddamn gorgeous that it takes my breath away. He still hasn’t shaved, only trimming his stubble every couple of days when it starts to get out of control. His wet shirt molds to his body and I can see every line and ripple of his muscles. His hair is dripping down his face and I watch as he runs his hand through the damp strands in irritation.

“What do you mean, what the hell are we doing?” he asks.

“I mean, what the hell are we doing?!” I argue, raising my voice slightly. “We see each other every day, we’re falling back into old habits like nothing has changed, but EVERYTHING has changed! We’re both different people, but it’s like we’re trying to be who we used to be. I can’t do that, Fisher. I can’t be the person I used to be and neither can you.”

He takes a step towards me, but I hold up my hand and step back.

“Jesus, are you trying to pick another fight with me?” he asks in exasperation. “What the hell am I doing wrong that you constantly want to argue?”

I’m so angry and frustrated with myself because he’s right. I’ve been picking fights with him nonstop over the stupidest things, just to get a rise out of him. Just to see if I can force him to lose control and show me some of that passion he did in the alley and that night in our kitchen a few years ago. It’s stupid and it’s silly, but it’s something that I think about constantly and I need that part of him. I need him to realize that I’m not going to break and I’m not afraid. I need him to see that my perfect man isn’t one who’s calm all the time and never loses his temper. I need him to give me every part of himself or this is never going to work between us.