by Jewel E. Ann
We stopped just before reaching the driveway. “I’m sorry.” I released his hand and covered my face with both hands. “I’m rambling. I just don’t want you to feel like I expect anything from you right now.” I dropped my hands. “Okay?”
After a few seconds, his brow tightened and he nodded. “Okay. But I’m going to kiss you goodnight because I’m really confident and certain that it’s what I want to do right now … it’s all I want to do right now.”
“I said tomorrow.”
He held up his good arm and tapped the screen of his watch.
12:14 a.m.
I twisted my lips as if I was contemplating it. “Sorry. No goodnight kiss for you.”
His good hand slid around my neck, his fingers teasing my nape. “Why?” he whispered.
Biting my lips to keep him from stealing anything, I shrugged. “Because it’s officially morning, not night.”
Fisher grinned a second before kissing me.
Patient.
Soft.
Teasing.
Perfect.
When he released my lips, he whispered, “Good morning.”
Chapter Thirteen
If it was finally our time, why was it so hard to be with Fisher? Did our time have to include him losing his memories of me? Did it have to include a fiancée?
It definitely didn’t have to include an invitation to his dad’s birthday party. A party at his parents’ house. A party with Angie on the invitation list. Yet … it did.
“I don’t think I’m going.” I sulked into the living room, wearing old sweats, my hair in need of a comb.
“Are you not feeling well?” Rory asked.
Rose pressed her hand to my forehead. “No fever. You can go.”
“That’s not an accurate way to take someone’s temperature.” I frowned.
“She doesn’t have to go.” Rory finished wrapping Pat’s gift from us.
I stuck my tongue out at Rose. She grinned and shook her head. I knew she only wanted me to go so I’d see Fisher and Angie in their element, surrounded by his family. A huge Team Angie party. But Rose didn’t know about the two—scratch that—three kisses. The underdog was making progress. And I was doing it without telling Fisher about our past. I wasn’t only playing fairly; I was playing with one hand zip-tied behind my back.
“I think Laurie is going to get Fisher to commit to sticking with the wedding date. June third.” Rose gave me a tight grin, baiting me.
“Oh, I wasn’t sure it was even still an option. So they’re dating, but officially still engaged?” Rory asked.
I shared her surprised sentiment. “I’ll shower.” I grinned at Rose. “Give me twenty minutes.”
She glanced at her watch. “Fifteen.”
I got ready in thirteen minutes and a few seconds, saving my makeup for the car ride.
When we pulled into their big driveway, there must have been ten other cars there. It was more than family. I wasn’t sure how that would play out for me. Would they all be friends who knew Angie? Probably.
One of the grandkids let us into the house filled with people. It was a cooler fall day in the foothills, so it forced the festivities inside.
“Welcome!” Laurie greeted us. “So glad you made it. There’s a table for cards and gifts over there. Don’t forget to sign the guest book. And help yourself to food in the dining room. Games and more seating downstairs. I don’t know where Pat disappeared to, but you’ll find him somewhere.”
I followed Rose and Rory like a shadow to the gift table. To the kitchen. In line for food in the dining room.
“Hey!” Angie appeared in tight black pants and a white sweater. Her curly black hair was softened into big curls. Perfect nails and makeup.
“Hi, hon.” Rory hugged her. “You good?”
She nodded. “I really am. Things are going well. I think this party is exactly what I need, what we need.” She glanced around. “Where’d Fisher go? He’s probably in the garage trying to cut off his cast. He’s been so unruly about it lately. It comes off Monday.”
Angie nodded to my shoes. “Cute shoes, Reese. You always look so adorable.”
I grinned without showing any teeth. Adorable. Exactly what I was going for.
Angie tootled away, the glowing bride-to-be. It had been forty-eight hours since I’d seen Fisher. Did something happen? Did he get his memory back?
We filled our plates with food and cake. We found Pat and wished him happy birthday, and I broke away from my mom and Rose, sneaking downstairs with the kids. All the kids.
And … Arnie and Fisher. They were playing ping-pong with the kids as well as video games on the big TV.
Fisher missed the ball when he looked up at me.
“Champion!” Arnie declared, tossing his paddle aside and throwing his arms in the air.
I cringed, a silent apology for being a distraction and costing him the game.
Arnie looked over his shoulder at me. “Reese! Just in time. You’re my next competitor.”
“Me?” I laughed.
He snagged Fisher’s paddle and handed it to me.
“Scat.” He shooed Fisher away. “You lost. Go play with the kids.”
Fisher shook his head, grin huge and eyes on me. I tried not to stare too long, afraid everyone would see right through me.
After I beat Arnie three times in a row, he tucked his tail between his legs and headed upstairs for more cake.
Fisher handed one of his nephews his controller and made his way toward me as I hung back behind the sofa a few feet, watching the games on the big screen TV.
“Hi.” He grinned.
I rubbed my lips together, fighting to keep from showing him how thrilled I was to see him. “Hi.”
“You killed Arnie. He’ll never recover.”
I laughed. “He’ll manage.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He stood right next to me and touched his hand to mine on purpose in a way that no one would notice, especially since we were surrounded by a bunch of distracted kids. “But I honestly had no idea who they invited. My mom called it a small, cozy gathering.” He chuckled.
I laughed. “She might have missed the mark if that’s the case.”
“There you are.” Angie peeked around the corner.
Fisher took a step to the side so our hands no longer touched. “What’s up?”
She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug while kissing his neck. “Come upstairs with the adults. Everyone keeps asking about our wedding, and I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say?”
Without a word, I slowly drifted away, up the stairs and back in the shadows of Rory and Rose. A few minutes later, Arnie stood on a chair in the middle of the great room and whistled with his thumb and middle finger up to his mouth. It was a loud and impressive whistle that silenced the room.
“Rock star always has to be the center of attention,” Shayla yelled, eliciting a wave of laughter from the room.
Arnie grinned, owning the truth. “Not today. It’s our dad’s big day. The man who showed us what it means to work from sun up to sun down. What it means to put family first. Patrick Mann is my hero.”
Emotion filled the room when Arnie got a little choked up. “He’s my rock star.”
A collective “Aw …” filled the space.
“And just recently,” Arnie continued, “he once again showed us what a real man does. When my brother fell off his little bike and got a boo boo on his head …”
Tears quickly turned into laughter. Arnie was a true artist. A true performer.
“Our dad was the voice of reason and the voice of hope. He knew, no matter the outcome, our family would get through this. He stepped up and filled Fisher’s shoes at work. He spent many nights at the hospital, right next to Fisher’s bed. He worried about us, our mom, Angie … just everyone more than himself. And as a side note, it is worth mentioning that we are all glad that Fisher came out with his life and at least part of his brain intact. And while
he struggles to remember a few things like the girl he has loved since he was just a little boy racing to the potty before wetting his pants …”
More laughter.
I told myself not to look, but I couldn’t help it, I had to do it. Lifting onto my toes, I glanced at Fisher and Angie standing at the top of the stairs. She looked up at him so adoringly.
“We know it’s only a matter of time. Angie’s the girl schmucks like me write sappy love songs for. The love you’ve shared for nearly three decades is once in a lifetime. And you lived, Fisher … so don’t screw this up. Marry the girl and count yourself one lucky bastard every single day.”
“Marry the girl!” Shayla lifted her glass.
Then Teena followed. Then another person. And another person. And it just went on and on like a herd of wild horses trampling relentlessly over my heart.
Then the clinking of silverware tapping glasses took over. “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.”
Angie lifted onto her toes and slid her hands around Fisher’s neck. And he relinquished the last few inches and kissed her.
I turned away, in the wrong direction. Rose wasn’t looking at them like Rory was; she was looking at me. Not gloating. As much as I knew Rose didn’t understand Fisher and me, I knew she loved me. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. That “you’ll be okay” squeeze. I couldn’t blame Fisher. I thought of all the things I did to please my dad, to please my grandparents, to please God. There were so many times in life we did what was expected of us. A soldier putting their country before self. That room was Fisher’s country.
I couldn’t even hate Angie. Nope. She was kind. And she fell in love with Fisher when he was just a young boy. It seemed like the perfect example of fate and destiny. She’d lost her parents. She didn’t have siblings. Fisher and his family were her family.
Maybe … I thought just maybe … it really wasn’t our time. And that meant it would never be our time.
After Rose released my hand, I took slow steps in the direction of the front door, making sure no one was watching me, and I slipped outside into the crisp air. I hugged my arms to myself and walked toward the end of the drive to grab my jacket from Rory’s car, but she’d locked it.
“Ugh! Rory … no one’s going to steal your car,” I grumbled to myself. I gave the idea of going back inside a full three seconds of consideration before I headed down the gravel road, hoping my toes in my “cute” green suede boots wouldn’t freeze right off. I picked up my pace, trying to warm the rest of my body—it was at least twenty degrees colder than in Denver that day.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
I glanced behind me. “Don’t. Just leave me alone.” I started to jog.
“Slow down. I’m not a fan of jogging in a cast.”
“Then go back to your family, Fisher.”
“Slow … the … fuck … down …” He caught up to me and grabbed my arm.
I yanked it out of his grip, not because I was mad at him. I was just … mad at life. Mad at the timing thus far in my life.
“It’s cold.” He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around me.
“I’m fine.”
“Your teeth are chattering.” He chuckled.
I threaded my arms through the sleeves while he zipped it. Maybe my arms were freakishly long, but his jacket was still an ocean on me.
“I’m mad too.”
I glanced up at him, but I didn’t say a word. He read my mind.
“I’m mad because the people who have known me the longest and should know me best don’t seem to know me at all right now.” He blew out a breath, a white cloud in the cold air. “And maybe it’s not their fault. Maybe I’m not the same. So I feel like it’s this cluster-fuck situation and no one is to blame. Yet no one knows how to navigate the way out.”
My gaze dropped to our feet.
“I don’t care if I remember these missing pieces or not. I really don’t. I just wish someone could tell me for sure. Yes, Fisher, you’re going to get your memory back in six weeks. Or no, Fisher, this is it. You will never remember. Because I can’t fall in love with photographs. I can’t fall in love with someone else’s memories. I just …” He shook his head. “Can’t.”
“What do you need, Fisher?” I lifted my gaze and looked into his lost eyes.
“Time. And space.”
I nodded. “You followed me,” I whispered.
“See, that’s the problem. The people I need time and space from just refuse to give it to me. And the one person I need more time with and much less space from is the one who keeps running or driving away from me.”
“I was running to keep warm. And the day I drove away, I had to help deliver a baby.”
Fisher grinned while easing his head side to side. “That’s your story?”
I shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“My family thought I did a great job trimming my beard.”
“As they should have. I did an impeccable job. But it’s getting scruffy again.”
“I’ll make you dinner tonight if you come over and trim my beard.”
“You get your cast off in two days.”
“But I like it when you do it.”
“Well, that’s just lazy, Fisher.”
“I’ll let you help me finish the bookshelf in my shop.”
“What time is dinner?”
He grinned and it was glorious. It was for me. All me. Fisher wanted to spend time with me. Fisher wanted as little space between us as possible. I let myself believe it wasn’t about Angie, like Rory’s relationship with Rose wasn’t about my dad or even about me.
“Six.”
“Fine.” I acted like it was such a sacrifice.
A car drove past us, and Fisher waved to them as I turned my head so maybe they’d think I was Angie.
“Come prepared. I’m going to kiss you until your lips go numb.”
I pressed said lips together to keep from grinning.
“I might even make a play for second base. Dress accordingly.”
I snorted, no longer able to contain it. “Who are you?”
“According to you, I’m the lost fisherman. Just trying to find myself.”
“And you think you’ll find yourself on the way to second base with me?”
He glanced over my shoulder into the distance, head bobbing a little bit. “Maybe not on my way to second base. Third base …” His lips twisted. “That’s a much higher possibility. I think a home run would make me not give a shit if I found myself or anyone else for that matter.”
“It’s funny because you’re talking, and I see your lips moving, but I’m still thinking about you teaching me how to build that shelving unit. Do you think I’ll get to use more than just sandpaper? Like a hammer, a saw, or a screwdriver?”
Fisher eyed me, a tiny grin bending his full lips. “You’re getting a little excited. Am I about to get kissed? Or fondled? Pinned to a pine tree so you can have your way with me?”
“What about that tool that drills the little holes for the shelf pins?” I ignored his questions. “Could you teach me how to use that?”
The more I ignored him, the more amused he seemed to get. And I loved it.
“A shelf pin jig?”
“Sure. Call it what you want. I just want to know if you’re going to teach me how to use it?”
“I’m not calling it what I want. I’m calling it what it is.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I ever agreed to teach you anything. I think you’re lying about that.”
“I’m not lying. And you’re going to let me use the jig thingy if I’m going to let you explore second base.”
Fisher eased his head to the side, that puppy dog head cock. Lips corkscrewed. Eyes narrowed. “Shelf pin jig it is. Six o’clock. Now we have to get back. Separately.”
I shrugged off his jacket. “Here. You need to return as you left.”
“You need to get back before you freeze to death. How am I supposed to do things to you later if you’re frozen to death?”<
br />
I laughed. “Your biggest concern about me dying is what that means for you getting to second base? Do you need me to grant you a special ten-second rule?”
“I’m listening.” He tipped his chin up while glancing down at me.
“I die. You get ten seconds to fondle me before it will be considered perverse.”
Fisher’s eyebrows crawled up his head. “You’re one sick chick.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a solid yes, but I just want it on record that it was your idea.”
“Noted.”
“Seriously, your lips are blue. Go. Run. I’ll wait a few minutes before heading that way, and I’ll go in through the lower door.”
“Six.” I grinned a second before turning and jogging toward the drive.
“Reese?”
I turned.
Fisher grinned before shaking his head and wiping his mouth to hide his grin. “Nothing. Just … go.”
I giggled all the way back to the driveway. My teeth hurt and my lips were frozen to my gums. A small group of people exited the house, and I used that opportunity to sneak back inside without drawing any attention to myself.
“Want to see Angie’s wedding dress?” Teena whispered in my ear as I snuck a handful of chips.
I turned, eyes wide, wondering if she meant to whisper that in my ear. Of course she did. I was Fisher’s best friend’s daughter. A family friend. Fisher’s ex-employee. Why wouldn’t I want to see his fiancée’s wedding gown?
“Um …” I shoved a few chips into my mouth to buy time and feed my anxiety.
“She’s in my parents’ bedroom. We’re not telling Fisher. It might freak him out. But it’s stunning. You have to see it.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, barely audible over the chips. I might have even spit a few pieces into the air on my reply. And I didn’t have that much of a choice anyway as Teena grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hallway and into the master bedroom filled with a handful of women, including Rory and Rose.
Angie stood in the corner, facing a full-length mirror, wearing a strapless white gown. Simple. Elegant. A perfect choice for her. She looked like a princess.