Fisher glanced up at me with a frown on his face. “If I say no, you won’t believe me. If I say yes … well, I don’t know how you’ll react. So why can’t I just plead the Fifth here?”
I may have been ten years younger than him, but that didn’t mean I was born yesterday. If it hadn’t been memories of good sex, he would have said as much, and he would have gone to great lengths to make me believe the truth. That wishy-washy explanation was a yes. He remembered having good sex with Angie.
Fantastic …
So a week before he was set to go with her to Costa Rica （her and her new lingerie and a king bed）， he was having good sex dreams about her.
Forgive me, but I was still human with a tendency to have irrational feelings and an instinct for jealousy.
I drew in a long breath of courage, weak courage at best. Then I exhaled it. “Well, it’s wonderful that you’re slowly getting your memory back. And at least you’re getting a sense of why you fell in love with her and agreed to marry her. The sex was good. But I think I already knew that because I came to your house that morning after the two of you had good sex that was apparently my doing because I questioned your ability to get and sustain an erection.” With a fake smile, I averted my gaze to the floor. “I’ll get the vacuum.”
“Reese …”
I didn’t pause. My heart had already shifted into defense mode. Fight or flight.
“Did he finish the job?” Rory asked as I retrieved the handheld vacuum from the entry closet.
Yes. He finished crushing my heart.
“He did. Just needs to clean up the drywall dust.” I held my breath or at least most of it while taking only tiny inhales and exhales like a woman in labor while I shouldered past him blocking the doorway.
“Reese …”
I turned on the little vacuum which silenced him, and I took lots of time making sure I sucked up every speck of drywall dust. Before I got it shut off, he squatted behind me, his hand taking the vacuum from mine and shutting it off.
“I love you today,” he whispered in my ear.
Nope. Wrong four words. I loved those words on any other day. They just fell flat when all I could think about was him having sex with Angie because it seemed like that was all his mind cared to remember about her. Rory’s words replayed in my head.
A virile young man.
I highly doubted virile young men were immune to sex dreams, especially the lingering thoughts they provoked. Just because one didn’t want to think about something didn’t mean they had control over it. There was no way I wasn’t going to be thinking about him and Angie having sex, and it definitely wasn’t because I wanted to think about it.
“Thanks for putting up the bar. I’m sure my grandma will really appreciate it.”
“Are you punishing me for my honesty?”
With pursed lips, I shook my head a half dozen times.
“You asked me.”
My head shake quickly transitioned into a series of nods. “I did. Stupid me. I think I’m done asking you about anything.”
“Reese.” He took a step forward and reached for my waist.
“No.” I shifted to the side, wedged between the toilet and the vanity as I held my hands up to let him know I didn’t want to be touched.
“It means nothing … at least nothing that you’re worried about.”
I grunted a laugh. “You’re going to Costa Rica with her. It might end up meaning something.”
“Why don’t you trust me?”
I rubbed my temples. “We’ve been over this. Even if I convinced myself it’s safe to trust you, I don’t trust your memories lurking at every turn. One trigger after another. I mean … that’s all it could take. One trigger to remember why you said yes to her. And what if that comes on the heels of a beautiful wedding where everyone is in the mood for love? Good friends. Food. Alcohol. Dancing. Coordinating outfits. A shared hotel room.”