Page 73 of The Wexley Inn
“Oh, is it? How is it different, Thomas? Because you think your secrets are justified, but mine aren’t? Because you were protecting me, but I’m just planning to abandon you?”
“Yes.” The word exploded from him. “Because you weren’t trying to save me. I was trying to save what you were building here, and you’re planning to destroy it anyway. I kept secrets to protect you, and you kept secrets to plan your exit.”
“I kept secrets because I’m scared.” Her voice broke completely. “Grayson’s threats showed me just how vulnerable I am here because I’ve put everything into this project, and one wealthy man with the right connections could destroy it. Because I’m falling in love with you, but you hurt me once before, and I don’t know if I can survive you doing it again. So yes, I’ve been keeping my options open, creating an escape plan, protecting myself because clearly I can’t trust you to be honest with me.”
“You’re gonna leave.” He said it flatly, as if the realization had just landed. “You were interviewing for jobs in Paris while kissing me, while telling me you loved me, while planning our future together.”
“And you were guaranteeing my loan while claiming partnership. You were making decisions about my business while pretending to respect me.” Her tears were falling now, hot and angry. “At least I was protecting myself. You were controlling me.”
“I was protecting you,” he corrected.
“Stop saying that. Stop pretending this was about protecting me when it was really about controlling the outcome because you can’t stand feeling helpless. You did this with your father. You made his decision for him. You did this with me. Made my decision for me. And you probably did it with Sarah. Made decisions for her without asking. It’s who you are, Thomas. You manage and control and decide for everyone else because you’re so scared of being helpless again that you’d rather destroy the trust than risk not being in control.”
Thomas flinched as if she’d slapped him. “You’re right.” His voice was hollow. “You’re absolutely right. I made your decision for you thirty years ago, and I’ve been making decisions for you the last couple of weeks. I thought I was being helpful, being protective, and being a good partner, but really, I was just too afraid to face the challenges. Too afraid to let you face challenges without me trying to fix the outcome.”
The admission should have felt like a victory, but instead it felt like devastation.
“But let’s be honest about what you do, Isabella. You’re devising an exit plan because commitment scares you. You’re planning to leave before I get the chance to leave you first. It’s what you do when things get tough. You jumped between corporate jobs instead of staying long enough to build roots, but now you’re running from me, from us, because you - who’s actually willing to commit - would have to risk vulnerability.”
“That’s not?—”
“Isn’t it?” His eyes met hers. The pain there was almost unbearable. “Be honest. You don’t really want that Paris job. It’s more corporate hospitality, the thing that you left to escape, but it’s safe and familiar. It’s an escape route from having to trust me, from having to stay in one place long enough to build something real.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come because he was right. She didn’t want the Paris job, not really. She wanted The Wexley Inn. She wanted the community she was building. She wanted Thomas and the life they could create together, but the thought of wanting it terrified her.
“Maybe we’re both too broken for this,” Isabella finally said, exhausted. “Maybe thirty years wasn’t enough time. Maybe we’re just going to keep hurting each other because we can’t seem to break these patterns that destroyed everything the first time.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Thomas’s voice was hoarse. “Maybe some things are just too broken to fix. You know, some foundations are too cracked to ever bear weight again.”
They stood in the beautiful dining room that they restored together. The space that should have represented their collaboration felt like a monument to their failure.
“I should go,” Isabella said.
“Yeah.” Thomas didn’t move to stop her.
She walked to the door and then turned around. “For what it’s worth, I really do love you. I really thought this time could be different.”
“So did I.” His smile was heartbreaking. “I guess we were both wrong.”
Isabella left before her tears could completely blind her. She got in her car and drove without knowing where she was heading, eventually reaching the beach access across the road where she and Thomas had first gone kayaking to the hidden cove. She sat in her parked car as the afternoon light faded, her phone displaying missed calls from everyone - Maggie, Daphne, Emma. She couldn’t answer any of them. She couldn’t even explain what had just happened or process the devastation of losing Thomas all over again.
This time in a fight where they had both been right and both been wrong.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Thomas. I’m sorry for all of it. You deserved better than I gave you.
She stared at the message for a long time before she finally responded with So did you. I’m sorry.
Then she turned off her phone and sat in the darkening car, watching as the sun set over the marsh. She wondered how something that had felt so right could have gone so catastrophically wrong. And then she wondered if there was any possible way they could come back from this, or if they had destroyed whatever chance they had at a second beginning.
CHAPTER 19
Isabella woke up in her bed with swollen eyes and a headache that felt like her skull was splitting open. For a brief moment, she didn’t remember why, but then it all came rushing back - the bank, the fight, Thomas’s face when she told him about Paris, and how they’d torn each other apart in that beautiful dining room.
Her phone had seventeen missed calls and twenty-three text messages, but she ignored all of them. She just couldn’t go to the inn today, couldn’t face Thomas, couldn’t even pretend to be professional. Everything had shattered so completely, and for once in her professional life, she couldn’t fake it.
She sent a single email to Daphne: Not feeling well. Please handle any decisions that can’t wait. Will check in tomorrow. Then she turned off her phone and pulled the covers over her head.
Thomas stood in the entrance hall to the inn, staring at the grand staircase they had restored together, and remembered how Isabella’s face had lit up when they revealed the refinished banister, how she had run her hand along the carved wood with such reverence, and how he had fallen more in love with her in that moment.
