The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman 2)

His speech. Our big moment. I couldn’t share it with them because it was all about him remembering us—remembering everything. And how he felt about me. Carrying me to the truck and smelling my hair. Sure it might have sounded weird to anyone else, but it was so romantic.

AND I COULDN’T TELL ANYONE!

“And Fisher what?” Rose asked. She and Rory had wide eyes and hung on my every word.

“Uh … well … Fisher felt really bad for not having called. But after breaking up with Angie and telling his family, he needed some time. And out of respect for both Angie and his family, he thought it was best to keep his distance from me. And he knew I was angry with him, so he thought we both needed to take some time and space. But…” my enthusiasm rebounded after that rambling version of the half-truth “…he was so excited to see me. And it was like nothing else mattered.”

They seemed disappointed in my story. And it wasn’t the most dramatic ending to a love story, but it was all I could give them.

“So you talked? Worked everything out? He told you everything that did or didn’t happen in Costa Rica?” Rory eyed me suspiciously.

I nodded.

“And did he have sex with Angie? Because I can’t see you being okay with that.” Rose gave me the same untrusting look that Rory gave me.

I made my decision before I stepped into his house. I chose us, even if he had sex with Angie in Costa Rica. If I believed the giving of my body to another in that way was the most sacred part of a relationship, the defining characteristic of love, then I would not have given my virginity to Brendon without marrying him. I would not have been interested in Fisher, the furthest thing ever from a virgin, and I would not have been able to love him after he and Angie had sex the night before our Target trip.

“He didn’t have sex with her.” That was my answer. And maybe that was a lie. Another lie I would never confess to Rory and Rose. And maybe it was the truth. I didn’t know. And it wasn’t going to change my love for Fisher. The second I hung up on him and didn’t return his calls or texts, that was the moment I could no longer call him mine.

I abandoned him when he needed me the most.

That worked. They smiled and hugged me. “So happy for you, sweetie. Both of you.”

“Thanks. So … let’s make some cookies.”

Mariah Carey belted out the lyrics to “All I Want For Christmas Is You” while we made cutout sugar cookies, chocolate crinkles, and peanut butter blossoms because Rory thought Fisher might like them. I didn’t break her heart by telling her that Fisher wasn’t the peanut butter fanatic he used to be.

Then we strung popcorn for the tree and used the rest of the popcorn to make a batch of caramel corn. After that, we nearly passed out from too much sugar while watching Last Christmas and Elf.

And finally, I grabbed my spare keys, packed up some cookies (and frosting), and headed to Fisher’s house after Rory and Rose went to bed. Tapping lightly on his door, I shivered from the gusty cold wind that night that promised to bring more snow by morning.

“Hey.” Fisher answered the door with a very pleased expression.

“Cookie delivery.”

He chuckled. “We’ve been waiting for them.”

We?

I stepped inside to a kitchen filled with guys. “You have … more company,” I said with a tight, fake grin.

“Yeah, Shane rounded up the whole crew for dinner and … they’re still here.” Fisher took the container of cookies.

“Yo, Reese!” Shane said with a drunk man’s boisterous enthusiasm. “Fisher said you were coming with cookies.”

“Yo,” I replied with a very bummed girlfriend’s dismay as I removed my jacket and boots.

Fisher opened the container and set it on the counter for the pack of wolves to devour, but not before snagging one of each for himself and putting them on a paper towel. “Guys, this is Reese. These are the guys.”

They laughed and I rolled my eyes. It was all too reminiscent of his pathetic introductions when I met his family.

“The game’s on downstairs. Let’s go.” One of the guys said, and the rest of the pack followed with their beers and cookies.

“This isn’t what I saw happening tonight,” I murmured to Fisher as we brought up the rear.

“Me neither. But they’re here, and I can’t just abandon them.”

I bit my tongue. Abandoning groups and sneaking off to be alone was our thing. Did he not remember that?

A few of the guys sat at the barstools, two other guys played pool, and the rest of the group sat on the sofa or floor in front of the sofa to watch the game.