Fletcher was surprised by that. Most women were angling for a relationship with him by this point, not directing the conversation away from them toward him marrying someone else.
“I want intimacy with you,” Fletcher suddenly said, the words falling out before he could stop them.
But he realized he meant them.
He cupped her chin and pressed his lips on hers with more pressure than was necessary. As if his mouth was an exclamation point or something.
“And I want to do that again. Like fifty more times.”
Olivia smiled sadly.
What the hell?
Did she not feel their connection?
How was she not blown away by what they had just shared? He’d felt it to his very core.
“We should talk.” She pulled the sheets over them as if they were some kind of shield.
He frowned while she let out a sigh.
“I know. I just wanted to enjoy this a little longer.”
She gave him another of those damn sad smiles.
Fletcher shifted to face her, so she knew she had his attention.
“Three years ago, I left my then husband, Simon. He was abusive. Subtly at first, and then one day I watched a movie where the main character was being gaslit by her fiancé.” She glanced at him. “It’s embarrassing to admit, because I consider myself an intelligent woman, but that’s the thing about gaslighting; it’s slow and harmful. It makes you question yourself and your sanity.”
Fletcher had heard a bit about gaslighting, but he wasn’t an expert.
“Is it the same as narcissism?”
“They tend to go hand in hand. He is also a narcissist. They’re incapable of seeing their behavior in a negative way, so they’ll never change. When I learned more about it, I realized the only choice I had was to leave. While it’s a result of pain from a person’s childhood, it doesn’t mean you should stay and put up with the abuse. Nor subject Sammy to it.”
“Hell no,” he said firmly.
“I knew it would be a rough few months, but I thought if I could create at least one safe home for Sammy, then it would be better than if she lived with him full time. I could lessen the damage, you know.”
God, she was amazing.
He had known Olivia for two years. He already knew she was strong, but listening to her story he realized she was very different to his mother.
Marie Dufort had stayed with their father even when she knew he was sleeping with other women. Even when she knew others were aware of it.
When their father had relocated her to another house and divorced her, she remained bitter.
Fletcher strongly believed that you taught people how you wanted to be treated. Every time their father had stayed out with another woman, and she’d said nothing, it was telling his dad that the behavior was okay.
He knew she knew. And she knew he knew, she knew.
So fucked up.
Every time his mother looked in the mirror knowing her husband was being disloyal, and did nothing, she was telling the world—and more importantly, herself—that she didn’t deserve to be loved, honored, and respected.
And that was never true.
Not for anyone.