The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(61)

“He was a … virile young man with an active dating life.” Rory for the win.

I was getting tired of Angie’s string of shocked expressions. Even at eighteen, I hadn’t been that naive. Whether I liked it or not, I had to acknowledge Fisher liked sex, and he wasn’t the godly man who worried about love or marriage before sticking his dick into someone. Or part of his dick, in my case.

Angie drained the rest of the wine in her glass. “You know …” She twisted the stem of her glass in one direction and then the other. “We weren’t exactly being careful about birth control before the accident. Which was crazy. I had a wedding to plan. A dress purchased. But part of me …” She shook her head and laughed. “I wanted to get pregnant. I was even late with my period and thought … this is it.” Her grin vanished. “But it wasn’t. I got my period the week before his accident. And I know it’s stupid, but had I been pregnant, I think, even with the accident, we would have been married by now. That’s just Fisher. Maybe he’s not the exact same person he was before the accident. But at his core, he’s still the same good man. He would have done the right thing. And I know … I just know we would have eventually fallen in love again because it’s us. It’s always been us.”

I had to hand it to Angie. She unknowingly brought her A-game. It wasn’t the orphan standing in front of a full-length mirror, but it still packed a punch. My desire to keep my hands up, fisted in front of my face, dissipated. Maybe because it was easy to forget that Fisher didn’t remember our love the way I did. His love for me spanned months, not years.

Was I getting too comfortable? Too confident? Could four days in Costa Rica derail us?

I finished my wine and pushed my chair back a few inches. “I’m going to finish cleaning my bathroom.”

“Happy Thanksgiving if I don’t see you before then.” Angie smiled.

“You too. Do you have plans?”

“Fisher’s parents’ house, of course.” She shrugged like, duh.

Duh indeed.

I should have known. I think I did know. But ignorance really was bliss when it came to my boyfriend and his fiancée.

“Tell them hi for me.”

The woman they don’t know they’re supposed to love yet.

“Sure thing.”

I sulked to the bathroom. Scrubbed the hell out of the shower and then the floor with Matt Maeson’s “Hallucinogenics” blasting through my earbuds.





Chapter Twenty-Six





My grandparents were scheduled to arrive on Wednesday, a nice buffer between Rory and me. Things were better, but she wasn’t completely giving up all her anger. I had let it slide, but if she didn’t shake out of it by Thanksgiving, we were going to have a “You Went To Prison” talk. For the rest of my life, I reserved the right to play that card. She abandoned me during the most delicate and influential years of my life.

Basically, all my imperfections would be blamed on her temporary absence. Okay, not really. But I did have every intention of using that excuse when things got rough. And since the incident, things had been rough.

“Fisher’s coming over,” Rory announced Wednesday morning as I read a book on the sofa while Rose knitted something that resembled a scarf from the chair next to me.

“Okay,” I said in a controlled tone, even if inside she’d lit a fire of anticipation with her news. “Why? Are you two back on speaking terms?”

“He’s coming over to quickly install a rail by the toilet. My mom can’t get on and off the toilet that well right now. Her knee is bad.”

“Nothing like waiting until the last minute,” I said.

“She wanted him to do it last week, but she stopped talking to him, so he had no way of knowing,” Rose said, tossing my mom a wry grin.

“Anyway, I’m just letting you know. He’s coming over to work.”

With wide eyes, I nodded slowly. “Okay. Thanks for telling me. Otherwise, I might have thought he was coming over to have sex with me since you spoiled my last chance at it.”

Rose snorted and quickly covered her mouth. Rory narrowed her eyes at me.

Biting my lips together, I kept a fairly straight face.

Seconds later, there was a knock at the door. My tummy flipped several times and my heart did its crazy thing where it liked to skip a few beats.

“Hey,” Fisher said to Rory when she opened the door.

“Thanks for doing this,” Rory said almost begrudgingly.

“Sure. I would have done it sooner had I known you needed it.”

“Well, I’ve … been busy.” Rory led him to the bathroom.

But Fisher glanced back and saw me and Rose in the living room, and his face exploded into what I’d decided was his Reese Only smile.

I bit my lower lip, but it hid nothing.

“Fisher, are you coming?” Rory all but barked at him.

Rose sniggered as did I.

“Yes, ma’am,” Fisher said.

While he installed the bar, Rory made stuffing to be cooked the next day and Rose worked on pies. I had no cooking jobs yet, so I meandered down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Leave him alone so he can finish up,” Rory instructed.

“Yeah, yeah,” I pretty much ignored her. I was twenty-four not four. “Need help?” I asked, standing in the doorway as Fisher finished drilling holes in the wall.