Page 75 of The Wexley Inn
She was right. He had been doing it for almost his whole life. With his father, he took control of the crisis, accepting Sarah’s family’s blackmail without exploring any alternatives. He made the decision alone, nearly ruining his entire life in the process. With Sarah, he never told her the truth about why he married her. He managed her illness by becoming both father to Emma and nurse to Sarah and made medical decisions without even asking her what she wanted. With Emma, he raised her with such strict control after Sarah died, managing her schedule and choices because he was terrified of failing her or losing her.
And now with Isabella, he was guaranteeing her loan, vouching for her project, and using his connections, all without asking if that’s what she wanted. Protection had always been his love language, but somewhere along the way, that protection had become control.
He was deep in the crawlspace, checking the foundation moisture barriers, when his phone rang. It was Robert Henderson.
“Hey Thomas, heard about the situation with Ms. Montgomery and wanted to check in.”
Thomas crawled out of the crawlspace and brushed off the dust. “News travels fast.”
“Always has on this island.” Robert’s voice was gentle. “Look, for what it’s worth, the review board is speeding up her permit. She should have the approval by the end of the week.”
“That’s good. She deserves good news.”
“Thomas,” Robert paused briefly. “What you did - you know, guaranteeing her loan and vouching for the project—that came from a good place. I understand that. But you can’t protect people from their own lives. Sometimes, the best you can do is stand beside them as they face a challenge, not fix all their problems for them.”
“Yeah, I know that now,” Thomas said as he sat on the porch steps.
“Do you? Because I’ve watched you do this for decades with Sarah, with Emma, with clients who needed guidance and not management, I understand your approach. You’re a good man with good intentions, but that isn’t an excuse for taking away someone else’s choices.”
“So how do I fix it?” Thomas asked quietly.
“Well, you start by being honest about why you do it. Not with Isabella, but with yourself. What are you really afraid of?”
After Robert hung up, Thomas sat on the porch steps for a long time, watching the sun rise over the marsh. What was he really afraid of? Probably being helpless again, watching someone he loved struggle, and being unable to fix it. The paralyzing terror he felt when his father’s business collapsed, when Sarah got her diagnosis, or when Emma cried herself to sleep after her mother died. He’d spent his entire adult life trying not to feel that helpless ever again, and in doing so, he’d hurt people he was trying to protect.
Isabella met Maggie at the club for lunch, grateful that they found a table in the corner away from everyone who always wanted to listen to gossip.
“So,” Maggie said, “Emma called me, gave me the basics, and now I want to hear your version.”
Isabella told her everything. The loan guarantee, the fight, the Paris offer, the way they had just eviscerated each other right there in the dining room. By the end, she was crying again, and Maggie was handing her a linen napkin.
“Well, that’s quite a mess you two have created.”
“I know.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want that Paris job?”
“No, and I’ve already declined it.”
“Then why haven’t you told him that?”
Isabella twisted the napkin in her hands. “Because I’m scared. He left me once. He just made decisions for me again. Now, what if he does it again and again? What if I trust him and then he destroys me?”
Maggie was quiet for a moment. “Sugar, let me tell you something about Thomas Langley. I’ve known him since he was barely old enough to shave. I’ve watched him raise that daughter alone after his wife died. I’ve seen how he treats people, how he builds things, and how he loves.” She leaned forward. “His fatal flaw is thinking he has to carry every burden alone. It comes from raising Emma after Sarah died. No one to share the weight. He had to shoulder everything himself. That doesn’t make him a bad man. It makes him a man who needs to learn a different way of loving.”
“But he keeps?—”
“I know, making decisions for you. Yeah, he does, and that’s wrong.” Maggie’s voice was firm. “But Isabella, you keep creating an escape route instead of just committing, and that’s also wrong. You’re both damaged in ways that make you hurt each other. The question is whether you’re going to do the actual work of healing those wounds or you’re going to just let old patterns destroy something that could be beautiful.”
“I don’t know if I’m even brave enough.”
“Well, then you’ve already lost him, because love, and I mean real lasting love, requires a lot more courage than anything else. It requires showing up even when you’re terrified and trusting even after you’ve been hurt. It requires vulnerability that feels like you might die.”
Isabella thought about that for the rest of the afternoon, about whether she had enough trust and bravery to ever risk her heart again.
