Finding Fisher Page 9

  “And you’ve still got your shirt on,” I tease.

  He remedies the situation and quickly unbuttons and removes his shirt.

  Now I’m the one who takes in a sharp breath as I once again take in his amazing muscular body. Fisher must really love working out.

  A lot.

  He pulls me close and kisses me again. This time he trails his soft kisses down my neck, across my collar bone and down my chest.

  I shiver in response.

  “You really are perfect,” he whispers.

  My entire body tenses in response. “Please don’t say that.”

  When he kisses me again I relax into the moment. Just for now, while I’m here in Fisher’s bed, I want to forget everything but him. I don’t want to think about anything, but his lips touching mine and his hands caressing every inch of my body. I don’t want to feel anything, but the desire growing deep in inside me.

  “I want to be with you,” I utter.

  He places his forehead against mine and takes in a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t want to be a substitute for Franklin because you miss him. I don’t want to just be someone who you can be with so you don’t have to feel pain. I want you to be with me.”

  Am I really that transparent? “Please,” I practically beg. “I need this. I just need to forget…everything for a while.”

  When I look into his bright eyes I can see the wheels are turning. He’s considering my proposal.

  Then he says, “I want you to take off his ring. I can’t be with you if you’re still wearing it. It means you still feel attached to him. You still feel like you’re still his.”

  I stare down at my engagement ring. I haven’t taken in off since Franklin gave it to me.

  “Franklin is gone,” he reminds me. “He’s never coming back. But I’m right here. Right now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  I swipe at the tear drop that has escaped down my face. Franklin really is gone. The emptiness in the pit of my stomach feels like a crater and all I want is for the feeling to go away. So I take off the ring and place it on the nightstand next to the bed.

  Then I slip off my leggings and toss them to the floor. I lie back on the pillows with my arm over my head and pose for him in just my thong.

  “You make it impossible for a man to say no.” He hops from the bed and quickly removes his jeans and boxer briefs.

  He’s already rock hard and ready to go.

  When he reaches into the draw of his nightstand and removes a condom I shake my head. “I’m on the pill.”

  “I always use condoms,” he replies.

  I shake my head again. “So did Franklin. With me anyway. I want this to be different.”

  He cocks his head to one side and furrows his brow. “Are you sure?”

  I nod slowly and definitely.

  He still looks hesitant.

  “I haven’t been with anyone but Franklin since I’ve been at Stanford.”

  “I haven’t been with anyone in a while,” he admits. “I’ve been too busy with work and helping my mom with Jackson.”

  “I want this,” I tell him. “I want to be with you and not with that.” I point to the condom.

  Finally he tosses the package back into the drawer. “If you insist.”

  “I insist,” I tell him.

  He doesn’t take his eyes from mine as he gets back into the bed. He’s so confident and so assertive it makes me shudder in response.

  There’s no doubt that he wants me and wants me now. He grabs the corners of my thong and practically rips it from my body.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” Even though his eyes are clearly filled with lust he’s still giving me the chance to back out.

  “I’m sure,” I reply with all of the confidence I can muster. My body has no doubt that it wants Fisher. My mind is another story entirely. And I’ve completely lost any connection to my heart. It ran away to hide days ago and I’m not sure when it will come back out again.

  He attacks my mouth first with hard and passion-filled kisses, while his skillful hands claim every inch of my body.

  Just as a tremor runs through my body he pushes into me and I quake even harder.

  A cloud of guilt envelops me, but I quickly push it aside and bury it in the box where I’ve stored all of my other feelings.

  I concentrate on one thing and one thing only. Fisher inside of me and how good it feels.

  “Look at me,” he insists and it’s only then that I realize that I have closed my eyes.

  When I meet his gaze the intensity in his eyes nearly takes my breath away.

  “I want you to forget everything, and everyone, but me,” he insists. “Just be here, with me, in this moment.”

  “Okay,” I mutter, but the word seems to get stuck in my throat. My heart is pounding in my chest and I can’t tell if it’s fear or anticipation. Maybe a little of both.

  “Good.” He gives me a wicked little grin. “Now you need to hold on, Buttercup, because I’m going to give you the ride of your life.”

  And he does.

  Fisher completely enraptures me and I forget about everyone and everything but him. It doesn’t take long for us to climax together.

  And when he pulls me close we’re both sticky and sweaty. He doesn’t seem to care. And for some reason neither do I. Sticky and sweaty are not two conditions I can usually tolerate for a long period of time, but right now it doesn’t seem to matter all that much. I just want to feel Fisher’s warmth and strength as he holds me in his arms.

  He places a kiss on the top of my head and then plays with the ends of my hair a little.

  “We’re good together.” He sounds surprised.

  “You didn’t think we would be?”

  He laughs. “Not that good.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re just so different.”

  “Yet there’s an inexplicable connection between us.”

  He runs a finger lazily down my arm. “Are you hungry?”

  My stomach actually grumbles at his suggestion. “What do you have in mind?”

  “She would never apologize, but the odds are pretty good that my mom brought one of the pies over while we were gone.”

  “Clearly that’s for you and not for me.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean—everything she said. She’s going through a lot right now.”

  “And my being here isn’t helping.”

  “I like you being here,” he interjects. “I may even love it.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” I remind him. “I have to go back to California right after the memorial service.”

  He draws little circles on my upper arm with his finger. “I’ve never been to California.”

  “It’s a lot different than Old Town.”

  “Maybe I’ll come out to visit you.”

  I freeze with a moment of panic. I never considered the possibility that we’d continue—whatever is going on between us—after I left.

  “Stupid idea,” he says quickly. “Forget I mentioned it.”

  He sounds hurt and I immediately feel guilty.

  “Let’s get that pie.” When he gets up from the bed I have to admit that I feel a twinge of sadness. I like being with him. I like being in his arms. And I like it when he holds me.

  And I have to admit that I miss it when he’s not by my side.

  I throw my T-shirt back on and follow Fisher into the kitchen.

  “Why are pies love?” I ask as he removes two plates from the cabinet.

  “If you haven’t noticed I put a little bit of myself into everything I do. Whether it’s rebuilding an engine, or making a dresser, or even baking a pie, I leave a piece of myself in everything I create. But pies are even more special because they aren’t meant to last. You have to stop and enjoy them while you have them. That’s why I make sure to put a little extra love into every pie I bake.”

  “I don’t think there’s a piece of me in anything I do,” I admit. “Of course all
I do is write papers and take tests. The only thing I’m good at is being a student.”

  He gives me a suggestive grin. “That isn’t all you’re good at.”

  I give him a playful slap on the arm.

  “Okay, seriously. You don’t do anything but study?”

  “Do you have any idea how competitive it is to get into Stanford? Or Harvard Law?”

  He actually laughs. “Obviously not. I don’t think my grades were high enough to get into the community college.”

  “I think community colleges admit everyone.”

  He kisses my forehead. “You say that because you haven’t seen my grades.”

  “You’re talented in a lot of other ways,” I tell him. “And I’m not just talking about sex either. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “After that performance? All I can think about is the encore.”

  “Pie first. Then we’ll discuss the possibility of a repeat performance.”

  Five

  “Are you sure this looks okay?” Fisher asks for the twelfth time.

  He fiddles with his suit jacket. It’s obvious he doesn’t wear suits very often because he looks extremely uncomfortable. Like he can’t wait to rip the thing right off.

  I straighten his tie for him. “You look great.”

  “It’s surreal. I never considered the possibility that I wouldn’t have my brother with me my entire life. We were twins. We were always supposed to be together.”

  I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I promised myself I’d have a tear-free day and I’m already choking up.

  And it’s not even 10 a.m. yet.

  I brought the only conservative black suit I own. Wearing it makes me feel ten years older.

  “You look like a lawyer,” Fisher says as he looks me up and down.

  “That’s the idea. I bought this suit for the Pre-law Students Senior Mock Trials. I got to be the prosecutor, which is the most coveted role. Even beat out Franklin for it.”

  I blow out air. I don’t have any college memories that don’t include Franklin. I’m glad there are only seven more weeks left of the term because it will feel weird not having him there with me.

  “You’re wearing the engagement ring.” His voice is strained.

  “I put it back on. Just for today.”

  He nods, but I can still see the hurt in his eyes. “We’d better get going.”

  I don’t feel like getting into his pickup truck in a suit so I offer to drive us in my rental car.

  “Why don’t I drive the rental?” he offers.

  “You’re not on the contract.”

  “Whatever.” I can see he’s still upset, but I don’t think it’s just about who is going to drive the car.

  I realize I made a big mistake sleeping with Fisher. We’re both grieving a major loss and shouldn’t be—doing whatever it is we’re doing. We’re going to end up hurting each other.

  After he gets into the passenger seat he slams the door shut.

  “Seatbelt,” I remind him as I put on my own.

  He doesn’t reply, but does fasten his seatbelt. He just stares straight ahead as I start the engine and pull into the street.

  “Are you at least going to tell me how to get to the memorial service?” I ask.

  He gives me quick directions, but nothing more. I hope this is going to be a very short drive. The air in the car is already thick with tension.

  As soon as I turn into the church parking lot my stomach knots. Why do I feel like a lamb on her way to slaughter? I’m still not sure how I’m going to face Sherry, but at the same time I feel like I have a right to be here. I was Franklin’s fiancée and I have a right to mourn.

  Before I even have a chance to turn off the engine Fisher is out the car door. I guess I’m going into the church on my own.

  I take in a deep breath and try to rein in all of my conflicting emotions. It’s not right for me to be as concerned as I am about Fisher right now. This day is supposed to be about Franklin and honoring his memory.

  “You can do this,” I try to convince myself. I’ve always considered myself a strong person, but I feel like I’m falling apart.

  When I finally step out of the car I’m surprised by how weak my legs feel. I do my best to steady myself and stand up straight.

  Then I head into the small, old country church. My chest completely tightens and I feel like I can’t breathe when I see what’s in front of me. Beside the closed casket are huge poster sized photos of Franklin and Olivia with a flower wreath underneath and the words: Together in Life—Together in Death.

  I can feel the bile rise in my throat and I feel like I’m going to be sick. As I continue to walk down the aisle toward the front of the church I feel like all eyes are on me.

  There’s a small voice inside me telling me to turn around and get out of here as quickly as I can, but my body just won’t obey. I feel like I’m completely frozen as I stare at the huge photos before me.

  “What is she doing here?” I hear an angry voice say loud enough for everyone seated in the pews to hear.

  As I glance around I notice all of the worshippers are glaring at me. I’ve heard that gossip travels fast in small towns, but does everyone think I’m the whore that tried to steal Franklin from Olivia, or whatever story Sherry has told them.

  Before I realize what’s happening there’s a shaking finger in my face. “Get out.” Sherry’s voice sounds raw. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “Mom.” Fisher grabs his mom’s arm. “Please don’t. Not here. Not now. Franklin wouldn’t have wanted it.”

  Sherry rips her arms from Fisher’s grasp. “You have no idea what Franklin wanted.”

  “And you think you do?” he bites back.

  The last thing I want to do is come between Fisher and Sherry.

  As I turn to leave a shorter woman with dark hair who looks to be about Sherry’s age blocks my path. “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?” I snap, even though it’s fairly obvious it’s Olivia’s mother. They could be clones of each other.

  “Olivia was my daughter and Franklin was like a son to me.” She crosses her arms over her ample chest and glares at me with her big, dark eyes.

  I clear my throat as I consider my options. I’m easily four inches taller than her. I could just plow past her and hurry out of the church. I could just give a vague answer about being a friend of Franklin’s from college and leave it at that.

  Or I could tell her the truth.

  I opt for the truth even though it will probably be painful, and she’ll most likely think I’m a home-wrecking whore just like Sherry does.

  I hold up my diamond ring. “I was engaged to Franklin.”

  Her hand goes to her heart like I’ve just stuck a knife through it. Then she shakes her head. “That’s impossible.”

  “I’m sorry you just lost your daughter. I truly am. But Franklin lied to both of us.”

  Tears are streaming down her face. “He loved Olivia. She was the mother of his child.”

  “And I’m the one he asked to marry him.”

  “I think you need to leave.” Sherry stands right next to Olivia’s mom and grabs her elbow right before she falls into a sobbing heap.

  “If she goes,” Fisher takes my side. “I go.”

  Sherry glares at her son. “You’re really going to take her side?”

  “This isn’t about sides. This is about honoring Franklin’s memory.”

  “It’s okay,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. “I’ll go. I’ll let you have your illusions and lies. If I’m gone you won’t have to face the hard truths about Franklin.”

  “Franklin was a good boy,” Olivia’s mother insists.

  “He was obviously a complex person. Maybe someday you’ll be able to see that. Now if you’ll excuse me…” I push my way past Olivia’s mother and march down the aisle out of the church with as much poise as possible.

  A cool breeze hits my face as I hurry toward the car. The sk
y has turned dark and the air moist. Rain almost feels as inevitable as the tears I feel forming in the corners of my eyes.

  So much for not getting emotional and not crying.

  I’m startled by tapping on the driver’s side window. Fisher is signaling me to roll the window down.

  “You need to get back into the church for your brother’s memorial,” I say through the half-cracked window.

  “Don’t leave town.”

  How is it possible he’s read my mind? As soon as I got everything packed I was going to head to the airport to see if I could get an earlier flight back to California on any airline available.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” The seriousness in his eyes momentarily takes my breath away.

  “Because I don’t want you to. That should be enough.”

  I hate that he’s right. It is enough. But I don’t want it to be. I want to be able to leave Old Town and not look back. And definitely not think about him anymore.

  But I know that’s not possible.

  “Fine,” I agree finally.

  He reaches into the pocket of his pants and hands me his house keys. “You’re going to have to walk yourself across that porch.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  He raises a dubious eyebrow.

  “I’ll be careful,” I assure him.

  He pats the side of the car. “I won’t be long.”

  ***

  “Oh, no!” I scream as my heel goes right through one of the planks on the front porch. I just knew it was bound to happen. It just sucks that it had to happen today of all days and when I’m the only one here.

  I remove my foot from the debris as carefully as I can, but some of the splinters and wood fragments have completely destroyed my stocking and there’s already blood leaking through.

  “I hope he has a first-aid kit,” I say as I hobble over to the front door and try to unlock it while balancing on one foot.

  I don’t think anything is badly damaged, but it’s scraped up pretty bad and it hurts. As soon as I’m inside I limp my way into the bathroom as quickly as I can. I don’t want to get blood everywhere.

  After I carefully remove my stockings I inspect the damage on my heel and foot. Several deep gashes are bleeding like crazy. I hope they look a lot worse than they actually are. And I hope I can stop the bleeding. I don’t want to have to drive myself to the hospital. And I really don’t want to have to traverse that treacherous front porch again.