“Morning.” He shared another friendly greeting as I pressed my face into his back to hide from … life at the moment.
“Gah! I should have gone farther off this stupid trail. How embarrassing!” I fought with my jeans to free my panties. Then I dressed as fast as I could. When I glanced up while buttoning my jeans, Fisher had his lips trapped between his teeth while he adjusted himself. “Are you … turned on?” I asked in disbelief, feeling a little irritated that he had the nerve to find my unfortunate situation sexy.
He lifted one shoulder. “I’m not … not turned on.”
“Screw the foliage or eco-friendly etiquette. I should have just peed in the brush.” I stomped my way up the hill, keeping a good six feet ahead of him.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Sounds like you’re mad at me. Is it because I have a penis and you don’t? Because I didn’t ask for a penis. It just came with my body.”
“Stop it,” I tried to say with a completely serious tone, but it was difficult.
“Stop what?” He took a few long strides to catch up to me.
“Stop talking.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re trying to make me laugh, and I don’t want to laugh. I want to be mad.”
“It’s your birthday. You can’t be mad on your birthday.”
I stopped and faced him, hands balled at my sides. “I can be mad on my birthday because I froze my ass—my butt off last night! And when I tried to warm up, your stupid truck’s alarm went off. And then I spent the rest of the night sleeping between my mom and Rose. And they both snore. And …” I started to run out of steam.
“Were you going to ask me to warm you up?”
“No. I wasn’t going to ask you. I was just going to wedge my cold body next to yours in your sleeping bag.”
“Naked?” His eyebrows lifted.
“I … I don’t know.” I shook my head, feeling irritated that he asked me that. And feeling irritated that he wouldn’t stop grinning.
“That would have been the only way to really warm you up. Both of us naked. You’re a nurse. You should know that.”
I started to speak, but I had no great reply to his gibberish.
His head cocked to the side. “You were … you were going to get into my sleeping bag naked. You were going to get warm and then try to get some. Am I right? A little early birthday delight.”
It hurt the muscles in my lips too much to not smile. I had to grin. I had to giggle.
Fisher refused to let me be anything but happy. And wasn’t that the whole purpose in life? To find one’s happy place and stay there as long as possible? He was mine.
Bliss.
Smiles.
Giggles.
“There she is.” His already ginormous grin managed to swell a little more. He tugged my beanie down a fraction of an inch, a playful, teasing gesture.
“Can I ask you something?” My smile faded a little.
“Of course.”
“What do you fear most? Is it your memory returning and you suddenly knowing what you felt for her and why you felt it? Is it disappointing your family if you don’t marry her? Is it making the wrong decision?”
He tucked his hands into my back pockets and kissed my forehead. “It’s losing you while I attempt to do the right thing.”
“What is the right thing?”
“That’s…” he shook his head slowly as creases formed along his brow “…just it. I’m not sure. I feel like a nearly thirty-year friendship deserves something … even if it’s just a little more time. And while I don’t remember loving Angie, I’m not immune to her feelings now. I’m not immune to my family’s feelings either. And they still have this great hope that I will get my memory back. And this huge part of me, the part that loves you, doesn’t care to remember the past. But this other part feels like I can’t end this planned future without remembering my past.”
“And what if you never remember? I mean … I’m here. I’m here for you. And my heart is firm on this … I’m in it for as long as I’m in it. But my brain will eventually try to override my heart in an effort for self-preservation. You haven’t canceled your wedding. If you don’t remember by then … then what? You marry her?”
“No. I don’t marry her. I … I …”
He didn’t know. How could he?
“I postpone it.”
“You postpone it?” My jaw dropped. “You postpone something you want to happen, just at a later date.”
“What do you want me to say? What would you want me to do if you were in Angie’s shoes?”
“I’d want you to love me. Love me now. Love me without any yesterdays. And if you couldn’t love me like that, then I’d want you to let me go.”