The Fisherman Series : Special Edition

by Jewel E. Ann

  I nodded once. “Okay. Let me grab my purse.”

  “Okay.”

  After I grabbed my purse, we headed down the driveway, Fisher’s gloved hand held mine, but it wasn’t an intimate gesture. It was a friendly gesture, just making sure I didn’t slip and fall.

  After we got in the truck, it only took a few minutes to get to Starbucks. Not a word was murmured on the way, and it only intensified the pain in my chest.

  Again, Fisher held my hand as we made it through the parking lot that hadn’t been plowed and into the empty Starbucks, save for two employees behind the counter.

  “My treat. You plowed the driveway,” I said like I would have said to a kind stranger. “Coffee. Black?”

  He nodded and headed in the direction of a table while I ordered our drinks. And instead of taking a seat and waiting for my name to be called, I milled around the registers reading all the advertisements for their holiday drinks. Anything to put off the inevitable.

  “Here you go.” The guy at the register set the two drinks on the counter.

  I took a deep breath and made my way to the table. Fisher had his gloves on the table and jacket off, but his beanie still on, and a sad look on his face. Once I got seated and unzipped my jacket, it took a few awkward seconds for our gazes to lock. But once they did, I knew there wasn’t any more small talk to be said.

  “We were more than friends,” he said like it physically pained him to say it.

  I thought it was a statement, but maybe it was a question. Maybe he needed confirmation that what he remembered was real.

  “We were more than friends,” I echoed, giving him confirmation.

  “And you didn’t tell me this why?”

  With a tiny head shake, I rubbed my lips together. “For several reasons. At first, I didn’t think it was beneficial information to share given the fact that you were engaged and we hadn’t seen each other in five years anyway. And I didn’t want to give you something you couldn’t remember and make you feel like you owed me something in return. Some sort of emotional acknowledgment. And honestly, I didn’t need it. I liked where we were going. I liked our present. And the closer we got, the less I cared if we shared the past.”

  I stopped. I had a truckload of other things to say, but I had to pace myself and get a feel for where his head was after recent revelations.

  “So we … what? We were just fucking around?”

  “There was a physical attraction. And we messed around, yes.”

  “Messed around. But we weren’t sleeping together because you already told me you gave that other guy your virginity. Correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Did I try to have sex with you?”

  I took a sip of my coffee and then another sip, buying all the time before clearing my throat. “No.”

  He blinked several times, an unreadable expression pinned to his face. “Why not?”

  “Because I was upfront with you that I wasn’t going to have sex with you.”

  “But oral didn’t count?”

  My cheeks filled with embarrassment as I glanced toward the counter to see if anyone seemed to be listening to us. “Do we have to go into such detail? Does it matter?”

  “I’m just trying to understand.”

  “Well…” I kept my gaze pointed to the counter “…you have amnesia, so you might not ever really understand.”

  “Maybe if you give me all the facts, all the details, then I can understand.”

  “Like Angie? She gave you everything. Do you understand your love for her? Or should I say, before you left for Costa Rica, did you understand your love for her?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Before I left for Costa Rica …” He narrowed his eyes.

  “Did you have a nice time? Was the couples’ massage in the same room? And how does that work? If they do, in fact, think you’re a couple, does that mean you undress for the massage in the same room? Did you take off all your clothes for her? Did she take hers off for you? What about the room where you stayed? Were there two beds? Because in the photo on Instagram, it looked like there was only one bed. And before you answer that, fair warning … Angie told me, Rose, and Rory all about her plans for you two on the trip. She requested a room with one bed instead of two. The couples’ massage. Oh, and we must not forget the sexy lingerie she bought to wear for you. How did you like that? Did you try to have sex with her? Or did you settle for oral like you did with me? Was it all-night oral? Because the photo of you on Instagram sleeping in bed made you look thoroughly exhausted. Oh … and it definitely looked like you were naked under the sheet resting so low on your torso.”

  I was so angry my hand shook as I gripped my coffee. My heart raced. And my jaw worked overtime grinding my teeth.

  “Are you done?” he asked, looking completely unaffected by my long spiel.

  I stood. “I think we’re done.”

  Fisher’s gaze fell from me to his coffee cup, and after a few seconds, he nodded, pulling on his jacket and sliding his gloves onto his fingers.

  I didn’t mean it. I was just so mad and so hurt. And tired. Rory was right. I was emotionally spent for the next hundred years. Why didn’t he have a defense? One single comeback or explanation for his actions? Why couldn’t he at least lie to me, show a little desperation like the idea of us ending affected him? Was it because everything I said was true? Did he not have a defense? Did he want things to end between us?

  “I’ll take you home.” He took my hand to lead me to the door, and I yanked it away. Falling in the snowy parking lot would have been less painful than enduring another second of him touching me after touching her.

  Fisher had the nerve to give me a little flinch, like he was scarred by my gesture. I brushed past him to the door and trekked through the snow to his truck.

  When he pulled into my driveway and put the truck in Park, he turned toward me. “Am I him?”

  I grabbed the door handle and gave him a slow glance. “Who?”

  “Your first love? You told me he wasn’t ready to be found. And you call me your lost fisherman. Am I him? Did you fall in love with me? Am I the schmuck who wouldn’t take your virginity even after you offered it?”

  That moment was the very reason I never told him about us. It was a terrible feeling to be so emotionally exposed without an ounce of recognition. I didn’t want the “did you love me?” I wanted the “I loved you, and I remember it. Every feeling. Every moment. Every single emotion.”

  I opened the door and spoke the only truth I knew for certain at the moment. “I will never regret not giving you my virginity.” I jumped down and shut the door, not looking back for a single second.

  As soon as I opened the door, Rory and Rose were right there. They’d been watching out the window. And while they had no idea what had been said between us, the look on my face must have said everything.

  “I’m sorry,” Rory’s brow wrinkled as she took a step forward with open arms.

  I couldn’t take any steps. All I could do was fall into hundreds of pieces and hope my mom could catch all of them.

  I thought we were strong enough to make it through.

  I thought it was finally our time.

  I thought wrong.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Babies made everything better.

  On the one hand, they reminded me of the life I wanted for myself, the life I’d imagined with Fisher. But they were also symbolic of transition, transformation, moving forward. A reminder that we are such tiny parts of something so much bigger.

  How many babies were created from a love that died? Yet they moved forward. Love can live in small ways even after it dies. Fisher nudged me, he shifted my journey in life. And while we didn’t have a tiny human to show for our love, I was a nurse and a midwife in training because I met Fisher Mann, and he was the reason I went with Brendon. Had he been the one to take my virginity, I wouldn’t have had the strength to leave.

  Fisher's love led me to a job I loved. A p
urpose that meant something to me. A feeling of accomplishment and unfathomable personal satisfaction. And I could hate him for a lot of things, but I couldn’t regret us or all the reckless moments that sent us spinning in a whirlwind of passion and love.

  Love. It was love.

  I knew it always would be love. A tragic love, but nonetheless love.

  “Are you married?” Abbie asked me as I weighed her four-week-old daughter in the clinic.

  I smiled. “Not yet. I’ve been a little unlucky in that department.” I handed Abbie her little peanut.

  Abbie sat in the rocking chair with her and breastfed her while we waited for Holly to join us for the well-baby check.

  “I feel ya.” Abbie chuckled while gazing adoringly at her little girl. “Drew and I have actually been married twice.”

  I looked up from my table after recording the weight. “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “We got married right out of high school against our parents’ wishes. But we were in love. Neither one of us had any idea what we wanted out of life. We just knew we wanted to be together. But being together didn’t pay well, neither did our minimum wage jobs. It got increasingly hard to squeeze happiness out of a love that nobody supported. And it led to fights and resentment. Then it led to divorce in less than a year. And we didn’t see each other again for ten years. Crazy, right?

  “He went to college. I went to college. Drew ended up in Maine, and I came back here for a job. We both had been in several serious relationships. And when Drew came home one Christmas, we ran into each other at an Avalanche game. And it was instant sparks. He was in a relationship at the time and so was I. But it didn’t matter. I swear we both knew it too. I actually remember thinking, this is going to get messy.”

  Messy.

  Of course she said messy.

  “So hearts were broken and lives were disrupted again so you could have your second chance?”

  Twisting her lips for a second, she nodded. “Pretty much. But look at this little princess. I have no regrets.”

  Before I could say any more, ask a single one of my twenty questions, Holly came into the room.

  But Abbie’s story haunted me for days.

  Saturday morning, I woke to voices in the other room. After throwing on my robe, I opened the door a crack.

  Angie.

  WWJD?

  WWJD?

  Really, what would he do?

  I wasn’t okay. It had been two weeks since the Costa Rica trip. And I hadn’t talked to Fisher since our morning at Starbucks, and neither had Rory or Rose to my knowledge.

  Was Angie there to gloat? Should it have mattered?

  Jesus needed to tell me what to do because I wanted to tell her everything. Woman to woman. If she was going to marry the man I loved, she needed to go into it with her eyes wide open. Jesus would’ve told her the truth, right?

  As I opened the door a little farther, I could hear their conversation.

  “Did he say who?” Rory asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Did he say how long it’s been going on?” Rose probed.

  “He said it didn’t matter. I asked him a ton of questions, but he said the answers didn’t matter.” She sounded so defeated, her voice weak and even a little shaky.

  “Does his family know?”

  “No. I asked him not to tell them until I leave.” She sniffled. Yeah, she was crying.

  “Leave?” Rory sounded surprised.

  “I’m going back to California. And after I have time to make sense of this, to figure out what I did wrong, I’ll either come back and face his family or I’ll at least call them. They are my family too, but they’re his real family. And I don’t want there to be sides to take. That’s not fair.”

  “It was unexpected. A tragedy in so many ways. He could have died. He could have been crippled for life,” Rose said. “But he lived. And sometimes when we love people, we have to give them what they need even if it’s not us. Life takes so many unexpected paths. Forever is rarely realistic.”

  “I miss him already,” Angie said.

  And dang it anyway, I teared up. I teared up because she had no idea that anything she had done was hurting me. I teared up because she was just a woman who fell in love with Fisher Mann. And it was nearly impossible to not fall in love with him.

  “H-he lived … but I still l-lost him.”

  I wiped my eyes as I leaned against the doorframe and listened to the mess I helped create.

  “I’m so sorry for your pain,” Rory said, and I imagined her hugging Angie. Someone needed to hug her.

  I gently closed my door and sat on the edge of my bed. When did he break things off with her? Did that change things between us? Did he sleep with her in Costa Rica? A goodbye of sorts? How did I feel about him?

  So many confusing and unanswered questions.

  Did I feel her words? Did they ring true for me too? Did I lose Fisher, but he didn’t die? Did I lose Fisher, but he didn’t end up with Angie?

  Was that the right choice all along? Did he need to start fresh? Walk away from the past he couldn’t remember and find someone completely new?

  I didn’t know. And by that point the pain was rather numbing.

  A while later, there was a knock at my door.

  “Yeah?”

  Rory opened the door. “Morning.”

  I smiled. “Morning.”

  “Were you listening?” She gave me a sad smile while taking a seat next to me on the bed.

  “For a little while.”

  “He ended it.”

  I nodded. “When?”

  “The night they got home from Costa Rica. Angie had to go out of town for work the following week, probably for the best, and so this has been her first chance to tell us. She’ll be okay.”

  I glanced over at Rory, eyes narrowed. “I heard enough of the conversation to know that she’s not going to be okay anytime soon. Why would you say that?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I’m Team Reese and I don’t want you to feel responsible because you really are not responsible. Had he not fallen in love with you, I don’t think he was going to fall back in love with her.”

  “So two weeks …” He’d broken up with her when we went to Starbucks, but he said nothing.

  “Give him time, sweetie. I think he’s dealing with his own loss. He’s lost hope of getting his memory back, and that has to be hard to accept.”

  He lost faith too. Faith in me. Faith in us.

  I knew from experience that losing faith sucked. And it was lonely. And you did reckless things. You made poor decisions.

  Maybe we needed another five years apart like Abbie and Drew. Or maybe it was really never going to be our time.

  “It sucks that she’s losing her new job over a guy.”

  “She’s not. She put in for a transfer, that’s all.”

  I nodded. “That’s good, I guess.”

  “So … Christmas is next week. I think we should make cookies today. Pop popcorn to string on the tree. And maybe drive around and look at lights tonight. I think we could all use a little Christmas cheer.”

  “Yeah,” I said, lacking all cheer.

  “Rose and I are going to run errands. We have some shopping to finish up. And then we’ll grab groceries on the way home so we can make cookies.”

  I nodded. “Give me twenty minutes to shower and I’ll go with you.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “We can’t buy things for you when you’re with us.”

  “Fine. I’ll stay here and watch movies.”

  “Now, that’s a great idea. You’ve been working a ton of hours. It’s about time you just relax.”

  I handed her a fake smile and even faker enthusiasm. She rolled her eyes. “See you in a few hours.”

  After she left, I grabbed a shower, dried my hair, and dressed in my comfiest sweats and fitted long-sleeved tee.

  Fuzzy socks.

  Hot chocolate.

  Netflix.

  Halfway through the firs
t movie, a sappy love story, and drunk on chocolate and spray whipped topping, I brought up my messages, specifically my texts with Fisher. And I typed a message.

  It was you, my lost Fisher Mann. I loved you. And you loved me. Just wanted you to know that in case you never remember. It was messy, but we were real.

  I stared at the message and thought of all the reasons to send it. Then I thought of all the reasons not to send it. Then I pressed send because my heart needed more closure than leaving his truck and telling him I would never regret not giving him my virginity.

  After all, he most likely took Angie’s years ago, and where did that get her? Them?

  I felt like the note he wrote in his graduation card to me was his way of getting closure. Five years after the fact, but clearly it was something he needed to say to move on and marry Angie.

  But I didn’t want to be engaged to another man and suddenly feeling unsettled emotions for Fisher. I wanted closure before I moved on.

  Fisher: I know.

  I know? Really? That was his reply? It seemed … well, a little arrogant. Like … of course I loved him?

  I started to send another message but I had no idea what it needed to say. What was the comeback to “I know?” If I was looking for closure, then I got it. I said what I needed to say, and it shouldn’t have mattered whether he responded or not. Yet there I was with a frown on my face, feeling like it did matter.

  Taking a deep breath, I let it go. That was all I could do. Just let it go. Accept the closure. After all, I clearly wanted him to know since I sent him the message. So what was the big deal with him replying with “I know?”

  Maybe I should have replied with an “Okay. Great. Just making sure. So … nice knowing ya. Have a good life.”

  I continued playing the movie for all of two, maybe three minutes, before I shot to my feet. Grabbed my keys, jacket, boots, and marched to my car. It took me less than two minutes to get to Fisher’s house.

  Knocking on his front door several times, I hugged my arms to my chest. The door opened. “What exactly does—” I bit my tongue and my face morphed into a constipated feeling smile. “Hi,” I said to the stranger opening Fisher’s door.