Whimsy: I think Ebisher flows better?
Me: Oh my God you guys are not helping me with my crash out.
Sabrina: Is it the worst thing in the world to be married to the guy you can’t keep your eyes off of?
Me: Lies. I do not look at him.
Whimsy: I love you, but I fear you’re delusional.
Me: This is insane.
Sabrina: What’s your heart telling you?
Me: That this is insane.
I can’t believe I have to reiterate that fact.
Whimsy: Maybe it’s fate trying to intervene since you’ve both been idiots and haven’t tried to get over your past.
Sabrina: Speaking of, what DID happen?
Me: That’s a conversation to be had in person.
Whimsy: I’m scared.
Sabrina: TEA.
The shower finally turns off and I curse, because it probably won’t be that much longer until he’s back over here.
Me: He’s getting out of the shower. He wants to eat breakfast and talk about this.
Sabrina: Talk to him! Don’t make any rash decisions!
Me: Where was that advice last night?
I set my phone back on the table so it can continue charging and busy myself straightening up my room. My leg twinges in pain, but I ignore it. I’m probably a little too good at ignoring uncomfortable things. All the walking and then the contortions Fisher put my body through did a number on me.
The adjoining door opens, and I’m overwhelmed with the smell of Fisher. Clean and woodsy and familiar andhome.
“Still freaking out?” he asks with a smirk.
“What do you think?” I set out what I’m going to wear on the flight home later today and pack my other clothes into my suitcase.
The knock on the door keeps him from responding. He opens it and passes a tip to the guy and steps aside so he can put the tray down. When he’s gone, Fisher leans against the closed door, the picture of ease with legs crossed casually and his damp hair threatening to fall in his eyes.
“You need a haircut,” I blurt.
His smile turns into a massive grin. “I think you like my hair. Gives you something to grab onto.”
My mouth falls open, and he chuckles as he passes me and uses his index finger to close my mouth.
“Sit. Eat.” He gestures to the small table in the corner where the food waits for us. “I’m starving and you must be too.”
Following him over to the table, I sit down and wait for him to make the first move.
“Coffee? Orange juice?” He gestures to the smorgasbord of things in front of us.
“Coffee, please.” The caffeine will hopefully help me feel more human.