He shrugged, shoving a wad of fries into his mouth. “Uneventful. Just work. I tried calling Rory several times, but she’s not taking my calls.”
Chewing my apple slowly, I nodded. “What about Angie. Am …” My nose wrinkled. “Am I allowed to ask you if you saw her this past week?”
Fisher eyed me suspiciously for a few seconds before nodding. “You can ask me anything.” He slid his leg forward so it rubbed against mine. “Yes. She came over Tuesday night. She brought pizza and cake samples.”
My eyes widened. “Cake samples?”
“They were good. I didn’t really have a favorite. She assumed I’d like the chocolate with peanut butter. But it was my least favorite.”
“Cake samples for Thanksgiving? Christmas? New Years?”
He smirked, gulping half the bottle of chocolate milk. “Wedding,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I cleared my throat, unable to read him. The smirk. The casual mentioning of cake. Was he baiting me? “Whose wedding?” Two could play his game.
After an exaggerated pause, his expression swelled with amusement, a little pride for his worthy opponent. “Whose indeed. She casually suggested she move back in with me, and I countered with calling off the wedding.”
The hamburger dropped from my hand, an unexpected thunk on the tray like the unexpected thunk of my heart halting, paralyzed with disbelief.
My nose wrinkled. I felt Angie’s pain. Fisher didn’t need to say another word. I knew where the story was headed. At least, I thought I knew. But why … why did I feel so bad for Angie? We were in love with the same man. On different teams, but at the same time, we were Team Fisher.
“What did she say?” I managed to say just above a whisper.
“She got a little emotional.”
Annihilated. Fisher annihilated her heart. If Angie kept herself from telling him about the miscarriage until he remembered it on his own, she knew how to toss her heart into a bunker so he wouldn’t see her true suffering. I knew this because it was what I would have done. It was what I had done with Fisher on more than one occasion.
“Then she asked me to think about waiting at least until after the holidays since I’m slowly getting pieces of my memory back.”
“Well…” there was still a hoarseness to my voice, a crippling of emotions “…that’s what you wanted too.”
He leaned back and ran his hands down his face. “No. I mean … yes. I did. But I don’t anymore. I want you. And I can’t for the life of me imagine what I might remember that would change how I feel about you. There’s no way I had stronger feelings for her.” He shook his head slowly. “A stronger feeling doesn’t exist. It’s just not possible.”
After a pregnant pause, I compelled my reluctant gaze to meet his. Love never looked so tortured.
“I think about you a lot and touch myself.”
Fisher’s eyes flared as he eased his head to one side and then the other, checking for anyone who might have heard me. Speechless Fisher was such a rare sight.
“Where …” He held his fist to his mouth and coughed. “Where did that come from?”
I shrugged. “What you said, I never expected it. So raw. So honest. And it reminded me of all the reasons I think about you …” I grinned. “And touch myself.”
“Fuck you,” he whispered with a grin, “for giving me a hard-on in McDonald’s, three feet from the PlayPlace.”
I giggled. “I had to lighten the mood. It’s hard to love you and yet feel sorry for another woman who loves you too.”