The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(56)

“And if he doesn’t get it? If he doesn’t get his memory back … his closure … what’s he going to do?”

I shrugged. “He’s giving it until the end of the year. Six more weeks. And if he still doesn’t have enough memories to remember why he fell in love with her…” I cringed because the analogy sounded terrible, but I’d already put it out there “…then he’ll bury the empty casket.”

That made Rory flinch. It started out as such a great analogy, but it ended rather morbidly.





Chapter Twenty-Four





Rory wasn’t happy. Not with me. Not with Fisher. Not with Rose.

It surprised me, and I think Rose too, that Rory struggled to accept the situation. After all, she went to prison and lost her marriage (and her daughter for five years) because she fell in love and that love caused a lot of damage. Rose speculated it wasn’t what had happened as much as Rory felt like everyone knew but her. Everyone that mattered.

The following weekend, I got a phone call while cleaning the bathroom.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Just found your name in my contacts. Who knew I had your number?”

I grinned, flipping the toilet seat down and taking a seat. “Hi. Who knew?” I hadn’t seen or talked to Fisher since Rory caught us in the hallway. We were trying to do things right, if there was such a thing as right. And it was clear that being together always led to situations like me half naked and tossing all intentions for human decency aside. All morals. Everything to make room for Fisher and only Fisher.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Cleaning the bathroom. What are you doing?”

“Thinking you should let me take you to lunch.”

Biting my lip to hide my grin as if he could see me, I told my eager heart to chill. “I have to help clean the house. My grandparents are coming for Thanksgiving this week.”

“Rory’s parents?”

“Yeah. My dad’s parents would not be caught dead having Thanksgiving here.”

“Why?”

“Because their ex-daughter-in-law not only went to prison for growing marijuana, she also kissed a girl.”

“And she liked it.”

I giggled. “She did.”

“Well, you need to eat. Give me an hour.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Fifty-nine minutes and not a second past.”

I laughed. “Rory just started talking to me and Rose again. Not more than a few words, but it’s something. I think lunch with you would take me back ten steps with her.”

“Then don’t tell her. Say you’re running to Target for something.”

It was a dumb idea. I needed to act a little more grown-up. I needed to actually be a little more grown-up.

“Fine.” There was always tomorrow to be grown-up.

“Where do you want to meet?”

“McDonald’s on the corner.”

“Okay. Ten minutes?”

I nodded before answering, my grin ready to break my face. “Ten minutes.” I quickly combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and reapplied deodorant. My ripped jeans and tee would just have to be good enough. “I need a couple things from Target. Do you need anything?” I yelled down the stairs.

“We’re good,” Rose replied.

They’d been downstairs for quite a while. I had a feeling they were doing more talking than cleaning. Talking about the big five-year deception.

Fisher was already at McDonald’s when I pulled into the parking lot. I walked around to his driver’s door and opened it.

“What are you doing? Get in.” He eyed me with such a bright gleam in his eyes. It did all kinds of things to me.

“Thought we were having lunch.”

“We are. But not here. I just thought we’d meet here so you could leave your car and ride with me.”

I stepped onto his running board so I could lean into the cab and get my face up in his face. “Do you love me today?” I grinned, our mouths a breath apart.

He smiled. “I do.”

I kissed him and his hand snaked around my waist as he kissed me back. “Then buy me a burger and fries and tell me about your Thanksgiving plans. Tell me how your week’s been. Tell me anything.” I bit his lip and tugged it.

Fisher grabbed my ass. “We could get it to go. Drive back to my place. Eat and still have time to do other things.”

I ran my hand along his extra scruffy beard then my thumb traced his bottom lip. “Things, huh? You and your things.”

He bit at my thumb. “You like my things.”

I giggled. “I do. Too much, really. So let’s grab a table and a couple of Happy Meals and stay out of trouble for one day.”

His gaze swept along my face once before he dropped a final quick kiss on my lips. “You win.”

I hopped down and he followed me. Then he took my hand and led me inside. I wondered what he would do if he saw someone he knew … saw someone who knew he was engaged. My hand in his hand.

“What are you getting?” he asked as we approached the next open register.

“Duh, we’re getting Happy Meals.”

He chuckled. “Um … we are?”

“Yes. Hi. We’ll take two hamburger Happy Meals with apples, one with juice and one with a chocolate milk.”