“Oh … let me run up and get Fisher. He’ll carry your suitcase to the car so you don’t have to lug it up by yourself.”
“I’ve got it.”
“He’ll get it. I don’t want you tripping or anything.” She ran up the stairs.
“I’ve got it. Really.” I started to open the door to carry it up to my car.
“Fisher can you give Reese a hand with her suitcase?”
Gah! Why?
I barely got it out the door before Rory returned with Fisher.
Fisher in his exercise shorts and no shirt. Tennis shoes untied like he’d just slipped them on his bare feet. If he wasn’t going to marry me and put ten babies in my womb, then the shirtless thing was nothing more than a big F-you to me.
“I said I can do it. She’s coddling me. Again.” I rolled my eyes to lighten the mood and give my eyes something to do besides gawk at his unnaturally flawless body.
“Well, I’m here now. I’ll carry it.” He took the suitcase from me and headed up the side of the house.
“Bye, sweetie. Text me as soon as you land.” Rory gave me one last hug.
“I will. See you Sunday.” I closed the door and jogged to catch up to Fisher. “Sorry. Really, I had it.”
Fisher loaded it into the back of my Forester. “It’s no big deal.” He closed the back.
“Well, thanks.”
“Enjoy your trip.”
I nodded, feeling the heat of his body. I always felt him without ever touching him. My body seemed to naturally gravitate toward him like it knew where it belonged before my brain figured it out.
We couldn’t work together. We couldn’t ride in the same vehicle. We could barely be in the same room without a clawing need ripping me apart from the inside. That must have been what withdrawal felt like.
“Reese?”
I turned after opening my door.
“I’m sorry.”
It was a terrible apology. I didn’t want his words. Fisher showed me. That was what he did. He showed me when he was sorry. It meant more. No … it meant everything. But that … that sad uttering of apology from his lips felt empty, like he was drained but he’d managed to gather a few drops of apology as if it would quench my thirst. My unquenchable thirst for him.
“I should have known better. It was selfish of me.” He added yet another layer of pain to my already throbbing wounds.
Regret.
It was always the regret that hurt the most.
“Well, I’m not sorry. Not for any of it. You know it’s…” I shook my head “…ironic. Adults, real adults, like to lecture young adults like me. They like to paint this picture of hopes and dreams, endless possibilities, and constantly remind us that we can do anything, be anything. But that’s a lie. Because all I wanted was to live a day at a time and figure things out one moment at a time. That’s all I wanted to do. And all I wanted to be was yours.” After a quick shrug, I rolled my eyes toward the sky to ward off the tears. “I don’t want your apologies or your help because they don’t get me you.”
He said nothing. Not a word. Not a single muscle in his body moved. Defeat personified.
“I’m going to fall in love. And some guy will be lucky to have me. He’ll love me for me. And he won’t care where I’ve been or where I’m going. He’ll just feel so fucking lucky to be the one who kisses me goodnight and wakes up in the morning with me in his arms. He won’t be burdened by my virginity or aggravated that I don’t wear socks with my sneakers. He will be a better man for having found me, and I will be a better woman for having found him. I know they say love is patient, but it’s not. Love is the brightest star in the sky. It doesn’t have an off switch or a timer. It doesn’t wear a watch or look at a calendar. It’s why we’re here. It’s the only true reason for our existence.”
Fisher was good at taking punches. He didn’t duck or even wince. He swallowed every word and let it settle somewhere deep inside of his mind, his heart, maybe his soul. And if he felt unsteady or even a pang of discomfort, I never knew.
“I have to go.”
He smiled ever so slightly. “Have a safe trip.”
I returned a single nod and climbed into my car. Then, I made it a full three blocks before I cried all the tears.
It was him. He was the someday guy.
The kiss goodnight. It was him.
Waking in the morning in his arms.
It felt like I would forever carry a Fisher-shaped mold around with me, trying to shove other men into a place they would never fit.