The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(57)

“No fries?”

I glanced back at Fisher and his confusion over not having fries. Then I turned back to the guy at the register. “And a small order of fries.”

He laid down a ten. I handed it back to him.

“My treat.” I winked. Yup. Big spender for our under-seven-dollar meal.

We took our Happy Meals to a booth by the window. As I unpacked my stuff, including the Avengers toy, I noticed Fisher was staring into his sack but not pulling anything out. A confused look stole his face.

“What’s wrong?”

After a few slow blinks, he gazed at me. “You bought my work crew Happy Meals.”

As I’m sure Angie did with the slow return of Fisher’s memories, I waited for him to reveal just how much he knew before I rushed to fill in the blanks. Did he remember a piece? A chunk? Or everything?

“I did. Well, technically you did. I used a company credit card.”

Fisher continued to stare into his bag. “Why? Did you do it to be funny? Did I tell you to do it? Was I cheap?”

I giggled while unwrapping my burger. “No. You weren’t cheap. Had you been cheap, you wouldn’t have taken food to your crews at all. You were very generous. And I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was collecting toys for Rory. She used to collect Happy Meal toys before she went to prison. So I continued her hobby for her.”

Fisher glanced up at me again. “Do you still collect them?”

“No.” I grinned with a slight head shake.

“Then why are we eating Happy Meals?” He pulled out his sandwich and apples.

“Because I thought it might jog a memory. And it did.”

It was possible the memory I was trying to jog involved his workshop and zip ties. I so badly wanted to just tell him, but the part of me that wanted him to remember on his own was stronger. Maybe I would mention zip ties another day.

“Huh …” He relinquished a tiny grin. “Thank you.”

Tapping a sliced apple on my bottom lip, I grinned. “You’re welcome. So how was your week after Rory lost her head?”

He shrugged, shoving a wad of fries into his mouth. “Uneventful. Just work. I tried calling Rory several times, but she’s not taking my calls.”

Chewing my apple slowly, I nodded. “What about Angie. Am …” My nose wrinkled. “Am I allowed to ask you if you saw her this past week?”

Fisher eyed me suspiciously for a few seconds before nodding. “You can ask me anything.” He slid his leg forward so it rubbed against mine. “Yes. She came over Tuesday night. She brought pizza and cake samples.”

My eyes widened. “Cake samples?”

“They were good. I didn’t really have a favorite. She assumed I’d like the chocolate with peanut butter. But it was my least favorite.”

“Cake samples for Thanksgiving? Christmas? New Years?”

He smirked, gulping half the bottle of chocolate milk. “Wedding,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I cleared my throat, unable to read him. The smirk. The casual mentioning of cake. Was he baiting me? “Whose wedding?” Two could play his game.

After an exaggerated pause, his expression swelled with amusement, a little pride for his worthy opponent. “Whose indeed. She casually suggested she move back in with me, and I countered with calling off the wedding.”

The hamburger dropped from my hand, an unexpected thunk on the tray like the unexpected thunk of my heart halting, paralyzed with disbelief.

My nose wrinkled. I felt Angie’s pain. Fisher didn’t need to say another word. I knew where the story was headed. At least, I thought I knew. But why … why did I feel so bad for Angie? We were in love with the same man. On different teams, but at the same time, we were Team Fisher.

“What did she say?” I managed to say just above a whisper.

“She got a little emotional.”

Annihilated. Fisher annihilated her heart. If Angie kept herself from telling him about the miscarriage until he remembered it on his own, she knew how to toss her heart into a bunker so he wouldn’t see her true suffering. I knew this because it was what I would have done. It was what I had done with Fisher on more than one occasion.

“Then she asked me to think about waiting at least until after the holidays since I’m slowly getting pieces of my memory back.”

“Well…” there was still a hoarseness to my voice, a crippling of emotions “…that’s what you wanted too.”

He leaned back and ran his hands down his face. “No. I mean … yes. I did. But I don’t anymore. I want you. And I can’t for the life of me imagine what I might remember that would change how I feel about you. There’s no way I had stronger feelings for her.” He shook his head slowly. “A stronger feeling doesn’t exist. It’s just not possible.”

After a pregnant pause, I compelled my reluctant gaze to meet his. Love never looked so tortured.

“I think about you a lot and touch myself.”

Fisher’s eyes flared as he eased his head to one side and then the other, checking for anyone who might have heard me. Speechless Fisher was such a rare sight.

“Where …” He held his fist to his mouth and coughed. “Where did that come from?”

I shrugged. “What you said, I never expected it. So raw. So honest. And it reminded me of all the reasons I think about you …” I grinned. “And touch myself.”