The Lost Fisherman

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The Lost Fisherman Page 25

by Jewel E. Ann


  It was quick and dirty … and I liked it.

  And we finished, just minutes later, he fetched a new roll of paper towels and handed me several squares.

  My hero. I laughed at the thought.

  My hero also leaned against the corner of a shelf and opened a bag of popcorn, eating it while watching me pull up my panties and sweats. Then he grinned while I looked around for a place to put the wad of paper towels that had his mess in it.

  I slipped it into my pocket.

  He smirked. “Don’t forget to take that out before you wash those. It’s like Kleenex. It’ll make a mess in the washer and dryer.”

  “You look a little too pleased with yourself.” I snatched the bag from him and grabbed a handful with my non-cleaning hand.

  “You started it.”

  “You invite me over for bakery fun. I brought extra frosting! Then I get here only to discover it’s a sausage fest.”

  “I want you to come to Christmas dinner with me. Rory and Rose too, of course.”

  “How did we go from sausage fest to Christmas dinner?”

  “I want my family to know it’s you.” His hand dove into the bag of popcorn. Fisher discussed our relationship and the sheer gravity of telling his family like it was nothing more than an invitation to grill out with neighbors.

  It was Christmas with his family! The family who just learned about the end of his engagement to the woman they loved like their own.

  “Yeaaahhh …” I grimaced. “But do they want to know quite so soon?”

  “Yes. My mom’s words were, ‘Well, dear, if you’re in love with another woman, she must be really special. So you need to bring her to Christmas dinner.’”

  I fed my anxiety with another huge handful of popcorn, then I mumbled over it, “I think you should tell them ahead of time.” I chewed a bit and swallowed. “There is no reason for a surprise. Unless you’re a celebrity, nobody likes to be the mystery guest at a party.”

  He shook his head, stealing the bag back and closing it with a chip clip. “It will be fine.”

  “Let me rephrase it for you. If you don’t tell them ahead of time, I won’t go with you. And I’m on call this week. When you dumped me after coffee at Starbucks, I volunteered to be on call over Christmas with one of the other midwives. So I can’t make any guarantees, even if you do tell them ahead of time.”

  His head jerked backward. “I didn’t dump you. I dropped you off at your house, but I didn’t dump you. You were the one who left me with the parting words of ‘I will never regret not giving you my virginity.’” Fisher used a feminine voice while mocking me.

  “Well I don’t.” I tipped my chin up. Even with a pocketful of his cum, I had no regrets.

  “You had me. Before I got my memory back, you had me. I thought this first love of yours was a total schmuck for not taking it if you offered it. But now I remember why I wasn’t camping out all night to be first in line for the virgin lottery.”

  I bit my lips to keep from laughing. Virgin lottery?

  “You carried that V-card like a bomb. I wanted nothing to do with it. The responsibility? Given the fact that you were eighteen and clueless as to where you were going in life? No thank you. You can ‘not regret’ not giving it to me all you want. But I ‘not regret’ not taking it from you even more.”

  I like riled-up Fisher. I’d always liked that version of him. It was hot. There was no other way to describe it.

  Virgin lottery.

  V-card bomb.

  Double-downing on not regretting his decision.

  The intensity in his jaw when he clenched his teeth, showing a little animalistic anger. That was a “yes, please” from me.

  “Wanna do it again?” I said, reaching for the button to his jeans.

  “Fuck yeah, I wanna do it again.” He grabbed my face and smashed his mouth to mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I may have jinxed Christmas that day in Fisher’s pantry. While Rory, Rose, and I were enjoying potato leek soup and lots of cookies on Christmas Eve, I got called to a birth.

  Twins!

  Magnus Andrew Howard and Minnie Ann Howard.

  Two little five-pound bundles of holiday joy born on Christmas, just after three in the afternoon.

  Fisher’s family had Christmas dinner scheduled for noon to accommodate his sisters’ schedules with their in-laws. I texted him and told him to eat without me.

  I finally arrived just before seven that night. Lights and wreaths adorned their house. I barely got a second knock on the door before Fisher opened it.

  “Merry Christmas.” I gave him a sad smile. It was an amazing day, but I was disappointed I missed Christmas dinner with his family.

  As soon as I stepped inside, before I could get out of my coat or remove my boots, he framed my face gently and kissed me. And I melted. It was exactly what I needed after a long twenty hours at a birth. “Merry Christmas.” He looked up and nodded to the mistletoe.

  I grinned, and that was when I noticed the onlookers in the living room. Just his parents, Arnie, Rose, and Rory. And that was the moment. Yes, Fisher had told them ahead of time that I was the other woman. But it did very little to ease my nerves in that moment. “Hi,” I said a little sheepishly because I didn’t see them there before Fisher kissed me. “So sorry I missed dinner.”

  Fisher took the bags of gifts in my hands and my coat while I toed off my boots and glanced down at myself. I did a quick change in the car before heading to his parents’ house in the dark. It was possible I had my sweater on backward or some rogue sock from the laundry stuck to my jeans.

  “You had more important things to do. Merry Christmas, honey.” Laurie met me halfway and hugged me. It felt genuine. Not for one second did I feel like the less desirable replacement to Angie.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Pat stood and hugged me too with an equally generous embrace and sincere “Merry Christmas.”

  “Bro stole my girl. Not cool.” Arnie winked before getting in on the hugfest.

  “Hi, Arnie.” I had to bite my tongue because I almost said, “He stole me before I was your girl.”

  I headed straight to Rose and Rory for hugs too since I hadn’t seen them yet that day.

  “How was the birth?” Rory asked.

  “Pretty special. I don’t know if anyone could be having a better Christmas than them. Two perfect little peanuts.”

  “That is hard to beat.” Rose nodded and smiled.

  “Hungry?” Fisher asked when I turned around to look for a place to sit.

  “Yeah, I’m kind of starving.”

  “Let’s get you fed. Come on.” Laurie took my hand, very Fisher-like of her, and led me to the kitchen.

  Fisher stayed in the great room, leaving me with just his mother.

  Laurie set out tray after tray of leftovers. “There’s a plate in that cabinet to the left of the sink. I can heat it up in the oven or the microwave. Do you have a preference?”

  “Cold,” I said, eagerly dishing food onto my plate.

  “No, honey. It’s really no problem. You can’t have cold Christmas dinner.”

  “She can.” Fisher appeared in the kitchen after all. “She’s an odd duck. Likes everything cold.”

  That wasn’t totally true. I liked my fisherman hot.

  And impatient.

  And a little dirty.

  He swiped his finger through my potatoes as I had done with his Thanksgiving leftovers. I grabbed his wrist before he got his hand to his mouth and I sucked it off his finger.

  His eyebrows lifted a fraction as he made a quick glance at his mom. I think I may have made him blush. Typical guy … a little finger sucking sent his mind reeling into inappropriate territory.

  “She’s been working, Fisher. I wouldn’t blame her for biting your finger off for attempting to steal her food.” Laurie returned everything to a nice PG rating.

  “Mmm … yes. My girl is ferocious.” He playfully kissed me, licking the side of my mo
uth.

  My girl.

  I liked being his girl, even if I was a woman. The truth of time still remained unchangeable—I would always be ten years younger than him.

  Laurie rolled her eyes at Fisher’s obnoxiousness. “Make sure she gets anything she wants or needs, Fisher. I’m going to sit down,” Laurie said before leaving the kitchen.

  “Hear that?” I leaned against the counter and held my plate with one hand while shoveling food down with my other hand. “Anything I want or need. Wanna know what I need?”

  Fisher smirked, chest puffed out, chin up. “What?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “A bed,” I said with my mouth full. “I’m so tired it hurts.”

  “Oh, baby …” He took my plate from me and pulled me into his body.

  I could have fallen asleep right then and there. We stayed another hour, everyone drinking wine, and some crazy cocktail Arnie put together, and opened gifts.

  Me?

  I didn’t drink a drop, and my gifts from his family sat piled on the floor in front of me. The second I sat on the sofa next to Fisher, I was out, nestled into his side. The next thing I knew, he was gently waking me while everyone stood by the door saying their goodbyes.

  His parents gave me hugs goodbye while Fisher put on my coat and guided my feet into my boots like someone would do to a child. I was so tired.

  “Keys?” Fisher felt around in my pockets and found my keys. “Who’s driving her car?” he asked Rory and Rose.

  “I can drive,” I mumbled.

  A chorus of nearly everyone chimed, “No you can’t.”

  Rose grabbed my keys and Fisher wrapped his arm around me and helped me to his truck as Arnie followed with the gifts.

  “You bringing her home?” Rory asked.

  “What do you think?” Fisher replied while I climbed into his truck.

  “I think you’re stealing my daughter from me,” she said.

  “Then you think right,” Fisher replied after helping me fasten my seat belt.

  I didn’t remember the ride home. I sort of remembered Fisher carrying me into his house, but that was a little fuzzy at the time. The next thing I remembered with any clarity was waking in his arms, naked save for my panties and his T-shirt. A warm ray of sun squeezed through a tiny gap in his blinds as I sat up slowly.

  “Stay in bed,” he mumbled.

  I chuckled, hopping out of bed. “I have to pee.”

  “Fine,” he said with a little grumble. “Then come back.”

  While I washed my hands, I noticed something different about his closet, but it was too dark to say for sure what it was, so I tiptoed to the entry and turned on the light.

  One entire wall was exposed, open to the closet of the guest room.

  “Thought you were coming back to bed?” Fisher slid his arm around my waist from behind me while kissing my shoulder.

  “What are you doing to your closet?”

  “I’m making an access door to the other room.”

  “Why?”

  He kissed his way to my neck. “Because it’s going to be a nursery.”

  I turned slowly, eyes narrowed.

  “I’m pregnant,” he said.

  “Stop.” I giggled.

  “I think it’s yours, but I’m not going to lie … Shane and I had a few drunk nights.”

  More giggles as he bent down and picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder and swatting my butt.

  “Fisher!”

  “Bed. We are not getting out of this bed today. I took the day off just to be naked with you.”

  I laughed when he deposited me onto the bed. “Tell me. What are you really doing in your closet?”

  He settled between my legs, kissing my neck again while inching my shirt (his shirt) up my torso. “I’m going to ask Nurse Capshaw to move in with me, and I know she has a lot of scrubs, so I’m giving her more space by stealing a few feet from the other closet.”

  I wriggled to the side to get out from under him, scooting to the back of the bed like home base. “You’re going to ask me to move in with you?”

  Still on his stomach, he lifted onto his elbows. “I’m going to ask you a lot of things, but that’s coming up soon on the list. Spoiler alert … you say yes.”

  My lips did that twitching thing where I tried to hide my amusement or maybe it was just unfathomable happiness. “Wow. The man who couldn’t remember the best hand job of his life is now predicting the future?”

  “Absolutely.” He army crawled toward me.

  “Fisher …” I opened my bent legs. He filled the space with his broad shoulders, and instead of doing what I thought he was going to do … what I was offering him … he rested his forehead against my stomach and slid his hands along my outer thighs. “Can I do it now?”

  “Do what?” I asked with a soft voice, running my fingers through his messy hair.

  “Can I love you forever?”

  I swallowed a little emotion that had been building since I saw the closet. “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  FISHER

  She said yes … and she never stopped saying yes.

  Yes to moving in with me.

  Yes to weekend trips to ski.

  Yes to movie nights or Arnie’s concerts.

  Yes to helping me in my shop.

  Yes to waffles for dinner and cold pizza for breakfast.

  Yes to long baths and quickies in the shower.

  Then I made her a crossword puzzle that was a treasure hunt.

  “I’ll see you soon, if you’re as smart as you say you are.” I kissed her head and handed her the puzzle and a pencil.

  “Where are you going?” she asked when I got to the back door.

  “You’ll see.” I left.

  It took her just over an hour to solve the puzzle and follow the clues they spelled out which led her to me.

  “Really?” She rolled her eyes as she walked toward my table at McDonald’s. “All that for a Happy Meal?” She eyed the sack opposite me.

  “It’s probably cold since you took so long.” I sipped my chocolate milk.

  “The average person wouldn’t have known half of those words. You’re such a geek.” She pulled out her hamburger and apples. “No fries?” She nodded to my empty burger wrapper.

  I shook my empty sack. “I’ve had two orders waiting for you.”

  Another eye roll just before she took a bite of her sandwich. “I’m going to make you a puzzle that takes you to the grocery store. A list of the things we need.”

  “Sounds fun.” I rested my face in my hands.

  “Why are you acting so weird?”

  I shrugged. “Am I?”

  “Yes.” She chuckled, setting her hamburger down after three bites. That was her ritual whether she realized it or not.

  Three bites of her sandwich.

  Half of her apple slices.

  One big sip of her juice.

  And then a fishing expedition for the toy in the bottom of the sack.

  She pulled out the toy and frowned. “This is an old one. How on earth did they have this to offer?” She inspected the Sponge Bob treasure chest, cracking it open to reveal a diamond ring. After several blinks she glanced up at me.

  I nodded to the small group of kids who volunteered literally fifteen minutes earlier to help me. They yelled at the same time. “Will you marry the fisherman?”

  Reese jumped and shot her gaze to them. Most of them fell into goofy fits of giggles with their hands covering their mouths. And the small gathering of parents at nearby tables all looked on with big grins, maybe even a few nervous grins. I mean … what if she said no?

  Reese turned back to me, and I was waiting on one knee because that’s what you did when you wanted your girl to say yes more than anything.

  “Are you going to say yes?” I asked after she blinked a thousand times.

  Lifting one shoulder, she relinquished a grin. “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Thinking is overrated.” I
took the ring and placed it on her finger just before kissing her. “Say yes,” I mumbled over her lips.

  She kissed me while nodding, and when the kiss ended … it was another glorious yes.

  As I waited for my bride to make her way down the aisle in the church that would have made her dad proud and did please her dad’s parents, I got a little emotional for reasons that had nothing to do with the stunning woman in white.

  She never asked. Not once.

  I promised a million answers after that Christmas, but Reese never asked. It was like Angie no longer existed in her mind.

  She never asked if I had sex with Angie in Costa Rica. I didn’t.

  She never asked about my memories of Angie—our engagement, how I felt about her, or why I said yes when she proposed. And unless Angie told someone, the truth remained buried in the past.

  I said yes because she was my friend. I said yes because my family adored her. I said yes because she had just lost her mother. I said yes because we were good enough together. And I said yes because I had already let the one go.

  But the most revealing part of my memory returning involved the morning of the day of my accident. While the accident itself still remained a black hole in my mind, and for good reasons probably always would, I recalled the heated argument I had with Angie.

  Irritation.

  Pressure.

  Regret.

  She had been moving a hundred miles per hour with wedding plans, and it made it hard to breathe. What should have been a happy time in my life felt like impending doom. So after she showed me tux swatch number eight hundred and fifty and asked my opinion on ten different shades of fucking white for the linens at the reception, I cracked. I said some things I instantly regretted. As tears rolled down her cheeks, she muttered the words, “Do you even want to marry me?”

  And I spoke my truth with a whispered, “No.”

  I wasn’t engaged when the truck knocked me off my motorcycle. And Angie shared everything about our past that suited her narrative, her desperation to keep me. And given the short amount of time between breaking off our engagement and the accident that afternoon, nobody else knew the truth.

 

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