“Really? That’s interesting. I don’t know what I hate. Or I don’t remember what I hate. It’s weird how some things are clear and other things just don’t exist. Not like I don’t remember them well, it’s that they are not there at all.”
I nodded. “The brain is a mysterious place. For everything we do know about it, there seems to be so much we still don’t know and may never fully understand. Don’t stress over it.”
“I’m not, but I feel the stress from everyone around me.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing more about it for a minute or so before changing the subject. “I brought you some crossword puzzles.” I set the folder on the counter.
“Oh …” He glanced over his shoulder. “Are we done talking about my memory and my dick?” That smirk …
Different guy, yet same guy. Just missing a few memories.
“I hope so. Do you need help spreading that on your toast?”
“Do I look like I do?” He had butter on his cast and his toast kept slipping off his plate onto the counter as he tried to spread it.
“No. You don’t. You look like you have everything under control.”
He hugged the tub of butter to his chest with his casted arm and used his good hand to press the lid back onto it. After he returned it to the fridge, I noticed a glob of smeared butter on his shirt. Rolling my lips between my teeth, I kept silent.
“You not working today?” He looked down, frowning at his shirt.
“I start my new job on Monday. Are you not working today? Because you clearly could do about anything. That cast isn’t holding you back one bit.” I snorted.
Fisher glanced up, eyes narrowed. “Are you picking on a disabled person? How Christian of you.”
“Sorry. What can I do for you today? Rake the leaves in your yard? Shave your scruffy face?”
“My face?” He paused his chewing. “Angie said I needed to shave or at least trim my beard. She offered to do it, but I said I could do it myself.”
“Of course you did.” I smirked. “If you were left-handed, you’d be fine. But you’re not left-handed.”
“You know my handedness?”
“Yes, but if there was any question, that butter fiasco I just witnessed confirmed it.”
“Smart ass.” He ate his toast.
I watched him eat it. And we shared familiar glances. Well, familiar to me.
“I’ll let you trim my beard. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Okay. Why is that?”
“Because I want Angie to think I did it on my own.”
“You do realize … this is the woman you asked to marry you. The whole ‘in sickness and in health’ thing. Right?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t propose. She did.”
“Uh … you remember that?”
“She told me. She’s told me everything. I officially have all the memories of our life thus far; they just aren’t mine. They’re hers, which makes it about as real to me as someone reading me a fictional book.”
“And she proposed?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I asked her if she knew why I hadn’t proposed.”
“What did she say?”
“She said I needed a nudge.”
“Interesting.” That shocked me. Rory didn’t tell me Angie was the one who proposed. “Well … are you done? If I’m going to secretly trim your beard, I should do it now. I have some errands to run.”
“Okay. We can do it now.” He set his plate in the sink and nodded toward the hallway.
I followed him to the master bathroom where he shrugged off his shirt with his good arm and tossed the shirt on the floor.
“Have you trimmed a beard before?” he asked, pulling the trimmer from its base and turning it on like he was testing the battery.
“Yes. I’ve trimmed lots of things.” I plucked the trimmer from his hand. “Sit.” I nodded to the vanity bench that wasn’t there when Fisher lived alone.
He sat down, draping a towel over his lap to catch the hair. I focused on his face. Not his scars. And definitely not his abs or happy trail. Nope. I was a total professional. Except for my thoughts. They played in my head like a day at an amusement park.
I’ve been in that tub naked.
I know what your penis looks like because I gave you a blowjob in that doorway to your closet.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“What?” I turned on the trimmer.
“You were grinning.”
I really needed to practice a straight face while fantasizing about the naked fisherman.
“Sorry. I won’t smile again.” I started near his sideburns.
“Don’t apologize. It’s a great smile.”
I felt his gaze on my face, but I kept my focus on the trimmers so I didn’t do anything stupid like nick his ear or kiss him.
“Did you leave a boyfriend behind in Michigan?”
He made it hard to control my breathing in his close proximity, and asking me personal questions didn’t help the situation. “I left several boyfriends behind in Michigan, but I left them long before I decided to move back here.”