The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(80)

I narrowed my eyes at Fisher.

“Nice to finally meet you. This guy hasn’t shut up about you in days. After two beers, everything turns into Reese-this and Reese-that.” Shane sipped his beer in one hand while resting his other hand on the pool stick.

“That’s not true.” Fisher rolled his eyes while opening his beer bottle.

My scowl turned into a smirk. I felt ten feet tall, even if he was doing all this thinking and talking about me while I was miserable assuming he no longer wanted to be with me.

When I turned back toward Shane, Fisher stood behind me, snaking his hand possessively across the top of my chest as he ducked his head and whispered in my ear. “It only takes one beer for me to talk about you. But I think about you all the time. And sometimes…” his whisper got even softer “…I touch myself.” He playfully teased my ear with his teeth eliciting another giggle from me.

“Who’s playing?” Shane asked.

“Reese. She’s freakishly good at whatever she does. She kicked Arnie’s ass in ping-pong.”

I glanced back at Fisher, and he winked at me.

Over the next two hours, we played pool. Shane told me all about Fisher’s shenanigans in high school. And Fisher called Shane out on a few of his own. I had to resort to college stories, which were much more recent because I went to a Christian academy and therefore had no exciting stories during that time in my life. The most taboo thing I had ever done was pull Fisher’s towel from his waist and give him head in his closet, but Fisher already knew that, and Shane didn’t need to know it.

“I have to get home.” I glanced at my phone screen. “Rory and Rose were shopping, but now they’re home and looking for me. We’re making cookies.” I returned my pool stick to the rack. “Nice meeting you, Shane. I hope we get to hang out again before you leave.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” He plopped down onto the sectional and turned on the TV.

“I’ll walk you upstairs.” Fisher took my hand and led me to the front door. Always … always me following Fisher off a cliff or to the ends of the earth.

“I have a million questions.” I trapped my lower lip between my teeth and wrinkled my nose.

“And I’ll give you a million answers. Just not until Shane leaves town.”

Nodding slowly, I whispered, “In two weeks …”

“But I’ll answer one now. So pick the one that matters the most.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Ask me.”

Did you have sex with Angie?

“When did you remember … everything? And do you remember everything? Do you remember all your memories of Angie?”

“That’s three questions.”

“Fisher …”

He kissed me once. “I remembered after I got drunk off my ass at the wedding … because I was so pissed off at you.”

I frowned.

Fisher didn’t. He kept grinning and kissed me again. “And I remember all my memories of Angie.”

Another kiss.

“I remember everything.”

Another kiss, but slower.

When he released my face, I stood motionless for several seconds. “You knew that morning we had Starbucks? And you didn’t tell me? Not only did you not tell me, you completely played dumb about it. You asked me questions you already knew the answers to.”

He shrugged. It was an arrogant shrug, like he had every right to not tell me the truth that morning at Starbucks. As I started to protest his arrogance, my conscience got the best of me, halting my words. I slid into my jacket and pulled on my boots.

“Shane doesn’t know I lost my memory.”

I narrowed my eyes before returning a small nod. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell him, but I figured it didn’t matter.

As I opened the door, he grabbed my wrist, and I turned back toward him. A slightly pained expression stole his beautiful smile. “You. I’ve told you about my memory. That’s it. No one else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t tell Angie. And I didn’t tell my family. Not Rory or Rose. Not anyone at work. Just you.”

Still a little confused, I added another nod. He wanted to tell them, so he didn't want me saying anything.

“I’m not going to tell them. You know. And you’re the only one who ever needs to know. Except my doctor. I’ll tell my doctor.”

“W-why?” I shook my head.

“I know I hurt Angie. And when I told my family, they were hurt too.”

That answered another one of my questions. He told his family.

But did he tell them about me?

“But it would have been worse for everyone had they known I made the decision knowing how I felt about her before the accident. I think it’s easier for them to believe that I can’t marry her or that I’ve fallen in love with someone else because I simply can’t recall my feelings. They are all so sure that I would marry Angie tomorrow if I only remembered. So that’s the deal. I don’t want them to know. I’m not going to tell them. And I don’t want you telling anyone either. Not even Rory and Rose. Can you do that?”

I didn’t know. That was a big ask on his part.

Fisher pressed his lips together and canted his head. “Need I remind you that you kept a big secret from me … because you thought it was for the best?”