44. Libby
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
libby
Returning to the place I called home for nearly all my life felt like anything but a homecoming.
The sterile scent of washed floors and scrubbed bathrooms hit me the second I stepped inside, instantly making me miss the musky, sweet smell of Fisher’s house.
On the island, I usually woke to the aroma of coffee and bacon, maybe something sweet.
Here, it’s nothing but cleaning supplies and a killer view of the ocean.
Even the panoramic view has nothing on the one I’d find each morning on Monhegan.
There’s nothing more beautiful than the sight of Sutton curled up on the couch watching cartoons and Fisher leaning against the counter, arms wide open, waiting for his morning snuggle.
Even Bing. What I’d give to watch him dance around my feet again.
LA is no longer home, and I can’t wait to get this last part of my life over with so I can return to the family I found back east.
Step one: get through the next few hours.
I study my reflection, appraising the work my stylists have done, and second-guess my plan another four times.
The Emmys are tonight. Win or lose, I’ll face all kinds of questions on the red carpet.
And I haven’t figured out exactly how I should handle it all.
Should I tell my story? All of it? It’s unlikely Brad will be there.
He’s not nominated, and I can only imagine he’s in hiding after so many of his transgressions have been leaked.
Maybe allowing Fisher’s punishments to be enough is the right thing to do.
But there’s a part of me—and it’s not even the petty part, though that’s surely there too—that believes that if the world finally knows the whole truth, then maybe my story will open eyes and remind people that monsters like Brad exist. If I don’t come forward, I worry the cycle will just continue.
Maybe it’s naive to think that what I have to say will even matter.
I wouldn’t be the first Hollywood star to speak up, but damn do I wish I could be the last.
Either way, my biggest fear is that if I don’t use this opportunity, the production company will get away with dismissing me, dismissing my truth, and sweeping the controversy under the rug. If that happens, then who’s to say another child won’t be hurt under their watch?
After all, it’s entities like the production company that allow men to continue to do these things. They provide the cover-ups. The money. And they’ll gladly destroy anyone who speaks out against them.
They can try to destroy me. I couldn’t give a fuck. Hell, they already did. They used gossip rags to convince the world that I’d had a mental breakdown. They killed off my character and blamed my mind.
What they didn’t count on was that I no longer care about that career.
My identity in Hollywood as Elizabeth Sweet doesn’t matter nearly as much as the Libby I’ve discovered during my time on the island. The Libby I’ve come to be to Sutton. For her, I want to be stronger. I want to do the right thing.
I want to be someone she can be proud of.
I want to love her the way my mom loved me.
Even though I didn’t have my mother for long, she left the most astonishing impression.
My mother’s strength in those last few months of her life still inspires me.
The big moments aren’t what I remember about her.
It’s the little ones. The smiling through the pain. The way she always showed up for me.
I want to show up for Sutton. And I intend to do it with a smile on my face.
Which means I have to tell my father the truth, and since he’s currently standing behind me, waiting to leave, it looks like there’s no time like the present.
So I swallow back the trepidation and clear my throat. “Daddy, I need to talk to you.”
Eyes drifting to my face, he slides his phone into his jacket pocket. He’s dressed in a tuxedo, prepared to walk with me down the red carpet. So debonair with his gray hair slicked back.
Does he ever look back and wish he’d done things differently?
We both missed so much of my childhood. Maybe he didn’t know better.
Maybe his grief was just too big. But I can see all the ways he tried.
Just like Fisher, he was stuck. I hate knowing that I’m about to hurt him.
This truth will be torturous for him, of that I’m sure.
But I can’t lie to protect the feelings of others anymore.
“You’ve met someone and you want to stay in Monhegan,” my father says with a knowing smirk.
There’s no stopping my smile. “Well, yes. But that’s not what I need to say.” I inhale, searching deep for the strength I’ll need for this conversation. “Could we sit for a few minutes? I think we’ll both need it.”
My father is red and shaking by the time I’m finished. By some miracle, I haven’t shed a single tear. Telling Fisher and then my publicist first probably helped.
My father, on the other hand, swipes tears from his eyes, begging me to forgive him.
That’s when I finally break.
“Oh, Daddy. You didn’t know.”
“I should have. Dammit. I should have—” He hangs his head. “Why is he still standing? Why hasn’t he been arrested?”
Plans have been put in motion. After tonight, Brad will be living in the same kind of fear I’ve lived in for years.
Maybe he won’t be convicted, but I won’t go quietly.
When I’m done with him, everyone will know how sick he is.
He’ll face what he did, and with any luck, he’ll never work in Hollywood again.
I grab a tissue from beside me and dab under my eyes. “Everything is being taken care of, but we have to go.”
“No.” He straightens, his expression hardening. “We aren’t going. You aren’t going to give this industry even another second of your time,” he growls. “I was wrong to push you, Libby. I never would have if?—”
I hold up my hand. “You were right to push me. And I deserve to say my piece.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll kill him if he shows up.”
With a long breath out, I nod. “Let’s hope he’s not that stupid.” With a squeeze of his hand, I stand and head for the mirror by the door. I dab at my eyes, thankful my makeup held up through the tears, then nod to my reflection. “I have to do this.”
I spin as he steps up behind me and straighten his tie.
He heaves out a breath. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
A genuine smile tugs at my lips. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He holds out his arm, motioning for the door. “On the way, maybe you can tell me about this man who’s stolen your heart.”
My chest warms at the thought of Fisher and Sutton. “I’d like that.”
Outside, he helps me into the limo, then sits beside me. At the gate, the car stops. It’s not unusual, but after we don’t continue on right away, I crane my neck and peer out the window.
We sit for a good five minutes before the driver’s voice comes over the speaker. “Sorry, Ms. Sweet. We have a bit of a situation at the gate. Someone was trying to breach the fence. Security is dealing with it, though.”
Instantly, my body goes on high alert. While this isn’t the first time we’ve had a security breach, it’s been a while, and after all the ways Flora terrorized me, I find myself more than a little unnerved by it.
Knowing that Brad’s life is going up in flames doesn’t tame my worry either.
It’s quite possible that he got wind of my plan and is trying to stop me. I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Call the police,” my father grits out.
“ Daddy .”
“No. We aren’t taking any chances. You’ve already come close to death once this summer.”
“Flora’s in custody.” Even as I say it, my voice wavers. Because is she? Could she have made bail? Would she know where to find me?
The questions hit me one after another. Yes, she most certainly could. The woman is determined to have Fisher all to herself, and clearly, she’s deranged.
My heart races as I search our surroundings.
The limo no longer feels like a safe place.
It feels like a death box. Visions of being trapped in the burning theater pummel me.
The heat, the terror, the fear that we wouldn’t make it out.
What if she used some type of gas this time?
My lungs sting, making it hard to breathe.
“Daddy,” I gasp. “Open the door”
“Libby.” He squeezes my hand. “Breathe, hunny.” Though his words to me are gentle, in the next breath, he bangs on the ceiling of the limo. “Call the police!”
“I just need to talk to her for a second.”
The words barely permeate my frazzled brain. The blood roaring in my ears is too loud.
“Tell her it’s Fisher. She’ll want to see me.” The angry voice gets louder, this time washing over me in a way that instantly drowns out the panic.
“Fisher!” I yell, pushing the door open.
My father grasps my arm and pulls me back. “Stay, Libby.”
Barely able to catch my breath, I shake him off. “That’s Fisher, my Fisher .” I say as if that means anything to him.
I peek my head out and immediately spot Fisher on the other side of the black gate. Though he looks so different from my Fisher. In a black tuxedo with his hair perfectly done, he glares at my security personnel.
“Libby!” The sound of Sutton’s sweet voice has my heart lurching.
It only takes a minute to find her. She’s wearing a pretty pink dress that matches mine almost perfectly.
“Sutton Jones,” I call, my heart racing. “What are you doing here, pretty girl?”
The fury in Fisher’s expression evaporates when he hears my voice, and when he spots me, he sucks in a sharp breath.
“Wade, you can let them in. They’re family.”
My security guard shakes his head, his lips turned down. “They’re not on the list.”
Fisher arches his brows in a teasing way.
“My mistake,” I say as Wade finally releases the lock on the gate, allowing Fisher and Sutton in.
“Hell, Princess,” my man practically growls. “You look gorgeous.”
Sutton giggles, her head tipped back. “That’s a bad word.”
He mumbles an apology, but he never takes his eyes off me.