Chapter 8 #2
I laughed. “Maybe. But I’m also acting odd because I suddenly have all this freedom.
Cruise ships are structured. You just follow the rules and the daily schedules, and you get a little institutionalized.
But now I can wear my own clothes and go where I want.
Being here is exhilarating!” My gaze swept across the decorated town square.
He looked baffled. “You find Hideaway Harbor exhilarating?”
We took the long way back, walking along the shops. Their facades glowed in cherry reds, sky blues, and soft pastels. It felt safe and contained, like a little universe hugging us from all sides.
“Yes. I mean, I have more freedom, but it’s still small enough not to be too scary. A bit like a cruise ship.”
“You mean, everyone knows your business and you can’t escape?”
I laughed. “Exactly. And you go a little mad and develop ship goggles.”
“Ship goggles?”
“They’re like beer goggles, but you don’t have to be drunk. You only have to be stuck together on a ship, and suddenly, those people start to look like viable… options.”
“Who did you sleep with?” He narrowed his eyes, smiling. “The captain? The pirate with a hook?”
“For your information, pirates are hot. And what happens at sea, stays at sea.” I shot him an indignant glare, thanking my lucky stars that I hadn’t slept with anyone.
Looking back at the selection, I would have regretted it.
Working almost nonstop probably helped in keeping me out of trouble, as well as the strict rules on alcohol consumption.
“I’m going to assume it was the 100-pound deckhand with buck teeth.” He looked happier by the minute, and I mentally high-fived myself for changing the topic.
“How do you know that’s not my type?” I asked. “Maybe I’m weak for tiny, buck-toothed men, even on dry land.”
He shook his head, and the sadness returned. “I’m quite sure your type is blond, blue-eyed, and trust-funded.”
A lump rose in my throat. Because he was describing Spencer. Did he know?
He had such beautiful eyes. Soulful eyes. Like they’d been painted with layers and layers of color, so many that you couldn’t really tell the original shade, like in an old student rental.
Once we were away from Main Street, I gathered my courage. “So… you know about my ex-fiancé? You’ve heard the stories, right?”
He stopped in front of a stationery shop called Paper Moon with glowing moons and stars decorating its window. “I don’t do gossip,” he said gruffly.
“I thought, because you said blond and trust fund…” I trailed off, suddenly feeling defensive. “That’s not why I fell for him, though! I didn’t even know he was that wealthy until later.”
“What did you like about him, then?”
His question threw me. What had I liked?
I rubbed my forehead like it was a broken genie. “He was generous…” I ran out of words. Was that the end of the list?
He’d bought expensive gifts. Thoughtful gifts. However, I had a sneaking suspicion he’d outsourced the task to his many assistants. But he’d thought I was cute and funny. Hilarious. And who didn’t like adoration? Especially a college dropout in a dead-end job.
“Generous, huh?”
“Yeah. He’d pay for everyone at dinner. He donated—”
“For a tax deduction.”
I forced a laugh. “You’re not that cynical.”
“Did he pay his taxes? Did he donate half of his annual gains?”
I glared at him. “Why would he?”
“You said he was generous.”
My cheeks burned as my mind darted around, searching for the truth.
“Generosity is relative,” he continued. “If you share one percent of your wealth and dodge taxes, how generous are you really?”
I thought of the prenup my parents had assured me was “standard.” I’d agreed. Why wouldn’t I? I had nothing to my name.
“He was patient with me,” I said. “I embarrassed him and his family constantly, and he still gave me a chance.”
“He told you that you embarrassed him?”
“He didn’t have to. It was pretty obvious. But he guided me. He was helping me navigate that world.”
“You mean he made you feel like there was something wrong with you?”
“There is something wrong with me,” I blurted. “Nobody is perfect.”
“Including him. Did you ever guide him when he did something wrong? Did he apologize?”
I froze. Why couldn’t I think of a single time he had?
“Why would he? He didn’t do anything wrong,” I insisted.
Fredrik huffed a laugh. “So he was perfect? The one who got away?”
“No. I left him.”
“Why?”
I opened and closed my mouth twice before words emerged. “Because I wasn’t right for him.”
“Noelle.” His voice was soft. “If he made you feel like something was wrong with you, maybe he wasn’t right for you.”
“Semantics.” I huffed, stomping off. “I have to get back to work.”
He walked along, maintaining a healthy distance while not saying a word. When I made it to my store, I stomped inside and collapsed on the floor to catch my breath.
Was Fredrik right? Was Spencer not generous? Was he not the good guy I’d told myself he was?
For months, I’d been telling a different story. That I’d fallen in love, but then realized we weren’t compatible. He was the perfect catch, but I was too free-spirited and impulsive. Safe in my ship bubble, I’d been happy with that story. But was it even remotely true?
Spencer had been known for his generous gestures, but I’d always known my place. It was all his. The house. The cars. The family crest.
I’d told myself it was fine because I wasn’t a gold digger.
But if Spencer wasn’t generous, what was left on my list?
I couldn’t name a single thing I truly liked about him, and it bothered me so much I found it hard to breathe.
Even his willingness to guide me now felt tainted.
Had he been guiding me, or… controlling me?
He seemed happiest when I groveled and apologized.
When he could demonstrate his grace and patience.
I glanced over my shoulder. The snow was falling again in big, floaty flakes.
Fredrik was gone. He’d walked away, after casually calling me out on my dirty secret—that I’d fallen in love with the attention from a rich guy and agreed to marry him.
I’d loved the dinners and the vacations and lapped it up every time he’d told me I was funny or cute. As his fiancée, I’d felt important.
I’d wanted that lifestyle for my hardworking parents and my sister. I’d wanted it so badly that I’d ignored every red flag and convinced myself I was in love with him.
I removed my jacket, grabbed the nearest open box, and began stacking packets of fairy lights on an empty shelf. I’d probably have to rearrange them later, but I needed something to do.
“I want my girl home, no matter what.”
The line from the article echoed in my mind, now sounding vaguely threatening.
We’d parted without any closure, with me running to catch an Uber, the veil still attached to my hair. I’d been too much of a coward to face him and too paralyzed by terror to even write a note. And now he was waiting for me to come home? It made no sense.
Spencer had been running late with a hair emergency. He was so particular about his hair. I’d been left waiting at the back of the church with my sister. Holly had seen something in me that went beyond the usual jitters. She’d found a thread and pulled it.
Suddenly, I knew with absolute certainty that I couldn’t go through with the wedding.
Holly smuggled me out, and within forty-eight hours, I’d boarded my first cruise ship. I changed my phone number and figured Spence would get the message. Over time, he’d realize I’d done him a favor and be grateful.
I’d carried on in my happy bubble, believing my own lies, until Felicity had shown me that article.
I’d kept busy all morning, trying not to think about it.
But I had to face reality. Leaving Spencer at the altar wasn’t only my biggest embarrassment.
It was his biggest humiliation. And men like him didn’t forgive humiliation.
Whether he regarded me as lost property or wanted revenge, he was on a mission.
And here I was, back in Maine, making friends, wearing bright colors, and drawing attention.
I was a fool, and I had to get back on the ocean.