“You’re being ridiculous.”
“And you’re being stupid!”
Fisher flinched. And the noise in the kitchen silenced. Everyone and everything was silent except the lingering echo of my outburst.
“If you’re done, it might be time for you to leave.” Rory appeared a few feet from the bathroom door. “What do I owe you, Fisher?”
Keeping his back to her, he stared at me, but I kept my attention focused on the floor between us.
“Nothing. You owe me nothing.” He snagged his tool bag off the floor and headed straight to the front door.
Click.
It closed behind him.
“Want to talk about it?” Rory said.
“No.” I still had lots of anger to unleash as my “no” came out a little harsher than intended. “I don’t want to talk to you, not after more than a week of you not talking to me. I don’t want your opinion, a lecture, a long string of I-told-you-so’s. Just …” I handed her the vacuum and made a sharp left into my bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dear Lost Fisherman,
I’m really mad at you right now. And I don’t care if it’s rational thinking on my part or not. Sometimes a person just needs to be irrational. This front that I’ve been holding up is exhausting. One can only show bravery for so long. Even the strongest people break sometimes. I wish I was immune to insecurities, but I’m not. I wish your I-love-you’s made me feel more confident in us, but they don’t.
I know Angie’s still dazed with disbelief that you can’t remember the first girl you ever loved. The girl you met when you were six. I get it. Because I’m struggling with us. It’s equally as hard for me to imagine us falling in love twice without you remembering the first time. And I can’t even articulate how badly I wish you would remember us. Not deduce the fact that you must have liked me a lot to show me your nerdy cruciverbalist heart, but actually feel what that really meant. I can’t tell you how many times the eager words have sat on the end of my tongue, desperate to jump out and just tell you. Tell you that we were in love. Tell you that you were my first and forever love. And in my gullible, fairy-tale head, you magically remember everything and we live happily ever after.
Fuck fairy tales.
Seven across. Hint: Disloyal. Ungodly.
Faithless.
I was angry. Angry that it was Thanksgiving and she was with him.
Angry that I had to endure the long stares from Rose and Rory while my grandparents yapped about their aches and pains.
Angry that Fisher hadn’t tried calling me to apologize for … I didn’t even know. But something. Really, he needed to apologize for something.
And if I were being completely honest, I was angry that he got on his motorcycle that day. Angry that he lost his memory. Maybe that meant I wouldn’t have moved back to Colorado. That might have meant we wouldn’t have had the possibility of a second chance. But as I simmered like a pot of soup left on the stove too long, I started to think Michigan sounded pretty good.
“How’s your job, Reese?” Grandma took a breather from her winded explanation of ailments and their corresponding medications to finally show a little interest in her granddaughter.
“It’s the best job. I love the midwives I work with. I’m so excited to start my master’s program next year.”
“She does love it. We get to see her come home with no sleep after a long birth but boundless energy because she loves it so much.” Rory, for what felt like the first time in nearly two weeks, shared a genuine smile.
“That’s amazing, dear. We’re so proud of you. Is everything else good? Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?”