I couldn’t sneak around with another woman’s fiancé any longer. If the alcohol imparted a sense of jealousy, then sobering up imparted a sense of regret.
“I know,” he whispered back. “I’m going to fix this.”
“Fix this?” I had trouble keeping my voice lowered. “How are you going to do that?”
“Do you trust me?”
I grunted a laugh. How many times had he questioned my trust in him? And where had it gotten me?
“I told you. I trust you. I just don’t trust your—”
“Yeah, yeah … my memory. Fuck my memory.” He stood. “Come on.” He held out his hand.
I took it. “I can’t do anything with you.” My inflamed conscience showed up to be the party pooper at my birthday party.
“We can play mancala.”
My head canted as I eyed him.
“For real. Mancala.” He tugged my hand.
We sat across from each other in his tent and played mancala for almost two hours, and it was fun. Everything with Fisher was fun and happy. He was bliss. And I couldn’t imagine my life without bliss.
“I’m going to …” I motioned toward the tent door. “Go to bed now.”
“You’ll be cold.”
“I know.”
“You could sleep with me.” He set the game aside.
“I said I’m not—”
“Sleep. Just sleep.”
“What about Rory and—”
“I’ll kick you out before they wake in the morning.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Can’t control yourself?”
“Full. Of. Yourself.”
His grin faded, gaze averting to the space between us. Confusion replaced all amusement. “Full of yourself,” he whispered before lifting his gaze to meet mine. “You’ve said that before. At my office. You …” He shook his head. “You were mad at me. Do you remember?”
It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. “Do you remember that?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s like déjà vu. You said that and it was too familiar, like we’ve played this out before, but not here.”
I wasn’t entirely sure when I said that to him. It was over five years earlier. Those were words I could have used on multiple occasions.
“I don’t know. What else did I say?”
Fisher continued to shake his head. “I … I don’t know. But if it’s a memory …”
I nodded. “Then you might be getting your memory back or at least your brain is trying to make some connections again.”
“Maybe.” He nodded slowly, confusion still veiling his face.
Was it time to tell him about us? He had fallen in love with me, without those memories, without me telling him about us.
He reclined onto his pillow. “So weird … I see you with your hands on your hips. You’re angry. Do you remember being angry with me?”
I chuckled. “Sorry. I was mad at you on lots of occasions. You’re not narrowing it down much.”
“Maybe it’s the beer.” He sighed, closing his eyes.
“Maybe.” I shut off the lantern light and curled up next to him, covering us with the top of his sleeping bag and a fleece blanket.
“You’re staying?” he mumbled. So much exhaustion in his voice.
“I’m staying.” I hugged his body and kissed his neck.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The night in the tent was the beginning of what felt like the end, even if I wasn’t sure what the end really meant for me. For us.
I immersed myself in work and read absolutely everything Holly gave me to read.
Halloween.
Early November snow.
And no Fisher.
Was I avoiding him? Yes.
Did he know why? Yes.
However, it was nearly impossible to avoid him until January, as I found out three weeks after my birthday. On my way home from a birth around noon on a Saturday, I stopped for gas. As I waited for it to get filled up, Fisher’s work truck pulled in the opposite side of the pump.
My heart crashed against my chest. He’s here! And my conscience said to chill out. Stay calm. No big deal.
A crazy big grin stretched across his face as he climbed out of his truck in jeans, work boots, and a dirty hoodie. “Hey.”
My heart won. I matched his grin, maybe even upped it a notch. “Hey.”
“On your way to work or heading home?” he asked, leaning against the beam next to the pump.
“Home. See the bags under my eyes?”
“Did you help bring a tiny human into the world last night?”
“Seven this morning. Little boy. Grant. Eight pounds exactly. How about you? Working today?”
“Just finished installing shelves in a pantry.”
I returned the nozzle to the pump and took my receipt. “Well, I’m going home to crash for a few hours.”
“Reese …” He studied me for a few seconds. “We’re not strangers. And I’ve been biding my time for three weeks. Sorting these memories as they come back. But I miss you. And I’m not going to let you get in your car and just leave with a friendly smile and tiny wave.”
“What memories?” Rory and Rose hadn’t said anything.
“Come here.”