He glanced up at me, his hand resting on a pile of scrub tops. “Are you making a jab at me? Did I tell you to wear work boots? I should have. It’s a safety issue.”
“Yes.” I picked out a top. “You took me to buy boots and a hard hat, but I wasn’t wearing socks and that chapped you.”
“Well, who doesn’t wear socks to work?”
“Lifeguards,” I said casually, moving a few steps to a different round rack. “I bet strippers don’t wear socks either.”
He tipped his head, pretending to be really interested in a pair of smiley faced scrubs. Then he chuckled. “They might wear fishnet stockings.”
“Do you think you would have been okay with me wearing fishnet stockings with my work boots?”
Clearing his throat, he glanced around the store. “I’m dealing with some memory loss, so I can’t say for sure where my head might have been in that moment.” His lips twisted as his gaze landed on me. A tiny grin teased his lips. “I might have been okay with it.”
“Well, that’s shocking.” I took my scrubs to the checkout counter and paid for them while Fisher waited by the door.
“Time to return you before your curfew.”
“Curfew. Pfft.” He rolled his eyes. “I was thinking lunch.”
“You’re milking this outing.”
“I’m in a cast. Going crazy. Help a guy out.”
“Help a guy out …” I mumbled as we headed to the car.
I helped the guy out, as if my eternally foolish heart had a choice. We found a soup and sandwich cafe with whimsical decor and a quaint little booth in the back surrounded by snake ferns and hanging Pothos.
“Tell me all about Thailand,” Fisher said after we ordered our food and drinks.
“How much time do you have?” I chuckled.
Leaning back, he stretched his good arm along the back of the booth. “I’m yours for the rest of the day.”
Oh, Fisher … you’re no longer mine.
We spent the next hour and a half eating and talking all things Thailand. While it was my story to tell, Fisher asked lots of questions and seemed genuinely engaged and curious.
We laughed.
I got a little teary eyed telling him about a still birth that tore out my heart.
But for the most part, I shared my stories with enthusiasm, using my hands and making crazy expressions. He seemed to eat it up. Every word.
We ordered a slice of chocolate pie to share. Sharing our germs. Saliva swapping.
I didn’t go into much detail about Brendon. Not our romance. Not our engagement. I never even said his name. Fisher was none the wiser. And not once did I think about the eighteen-year-old girl he didn’t remember. I was too busy enjoying the moment—the moment he got to know the woman I’d become.
“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Fisher said when I dropped him off at his house a little before three in the afternoon.
“Thanks for lunch. You didn’t have to pay.”
He ducked his head back into my car and grinned. “I invited myself. It was the least I could do.” He winked.
THAT. That was almost too much. Tears came out of nowhere, sending me fumbling for my sunglasses.
“Well …” I fumbled my words like my fingers fumbled my glasses. “Have a good rest of your day.”
“I’ll have a good enough day.” He shut the door.
I made it out of his driveway and about ten feet down the street before my tears escaped on a heavy blink. Why did he have to wink at me?
Why did he have to be so fun and goofy in Target?
Why did he have to be so interested in my trip to Thailand, so interested in me?
Chapter Ten
Sunday morning brought an unexpected guest to our house. I had just returned from my morning jog. Three long faces at the kitchen table greeted me.
Rory. Rose. And Angie.
“Hey,” I said with caution.
“How was your run?” Rory asked.
“Fine,” I replied slowly, filling a glass with water. “Is … everything okay?”
“Fisher suggested Angie move out and they date again.” Just Rose giving me the quick explanation made Angie cry. Again, I assumed.
“Oh.” That was the best I had, but I dug deeper for more. “Well, I’m sure that’s hard to hear. But he’s not saying he doesn’t want you. And it’s impossible for any of us to put ourselves in Fisher’s shoes. But I’d imagine he’s feeling overwhelmed.”
“And how do you think I’m feeling?” Angie cried.
Rory frowned at me like it was my fault.
“I imagine you’re feeling scared. Grateful that you didn’t lose him in that accident, yet you did lose him in many ways. It’s like the family of someone with Alzheimer’s. You realize that all the pictures and souvenirs from life mean nothing without the actual memories. You’re a stranger to the person you love most in the world. And falling in love with someone is like offering a part of yourself to them. If Fisher doesn’t recognize you, it’s like you’re missing a part of yourself. And you’re questioning who you are or who you will be if you never get that piece back. But honestly, I’d imagine your biggest fear right now is that Fisher won’t fall in love with you again.” I pressed my lips together for a few seconds. I might have gone too far. “At least, that’s how I would feel if I were in your shoes.”