Chapter 28
LILA
Despite the numerous mental warnings I gave myself to slow down on the wine last night, I did not slow down on the wine.
Between the three of us, we polished off the bottle…
and then when the boys won their game, we cracked open another bottle.
We talked and laughed until well into the night, and then we dragged our tipsy butts into Ally’s bed for a sleepover like middle-schoolers.
I realized last night that Ally and Hazel are the type of ride or die female friends every girl wishes they had, but many aren’t lucky enough to find.
Friends you can be your most delusional self with, because they’ll match your level of delusion.
The ones who’d help you bury the body…then ask what he did to deserve it before assuring you that you didn’t overreact by committing murder.
It was the best night, and I slept soundly, only stirring when the sound of voices cut through my dreams the next morning.
“Well, this is adorable. I have to get a picture.”
“They kind of look like puppies.”
“Puppies?”
“You know, when they get so tired they fall asleep in a big pile.”
“We should really get a puppy for the loft.”
“Harry Styles would have a fit.”
“But Lila and I are the only couple without a pet now.”
At the sound of my name, my eyes crack open, and when my gaze moves over a pink comforter, it takes me a moment to remember where I am…and another to register that the blonde hair tickling my face doesn’t belong to my husband.
I whip my head around, my eyes fully popping open in shock when I see Noah, Penn, and Fisher standing in the doorway, laughing.
“What are you guys doing here?” I sit up, attempting to smooth my wild hair off my forehead.
My husband looks at me, and his smile makes my insides melt. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“Shh,” Hazel murmurs as she rolls over. “Trying to sleep here.”
Ally lifts her head and looks at the guys through bleary, unfocused eyes. “Aren’t you all supposed to be in Seattle?”
“We were in Seattle,” Noah says. “But we got up at a normal time this morning and took a plane back.”
“Ahh, you won last night!” Ally springs into action, jumping out of bed and running to Noah to fling her arms around him. He smiles at her adoringly, then kisses her. Ugh, they’re so cute together.
I move my gaze back to Fisher. I want to go to him just like Ally ran to Noah. I want to wrap my arms around him and celebrate in his arms. Instead, I smile at him from where I’m sitting on Ally’s bed. “Congratulations. You were amazing last night. That game was insane.”
A one-one tie until twenty seconds before the final buzzer, when one of the Lions veteran players scored the winning goal. We all leapt out of our seats so fast, Ally spilled her wine on Harry Styles, who was less than amused.
“Round two, baby,” Fisher replies with a dimpled grin that makes me wish I’d acted on my impulse so I was closer to him right now. “It’s on.”
“Yeah, it is!” Penn holds up his hand, and my husband high fives it.
“Ohmygosh what time is it?” Hazel shrieks, sitting upright so fast I’m amazed she doesn’t give herself whiplash.
“It’s 11:11,” Penn says as he checks his phone. He smirks at his girlfriend. “Make a wish. And no need to wish that you’re dating a gorgeous hockey god, because the universe has already granted you that one.”
“I’m going to be late to meet my advisor!
” Hazel jumps up and runs for the door. But when she gets there, she stops and slides her palms onto Penn’s face, cupping his jaw before kissing him on the mouth then pulling back.
“And yeah, you’re a hockey god, Playboy.
I’m so proud of you, and I can’t wait to celebrate later. ”
Penn waggles his eyebrows and grins wickedly, causing Hazel to blush. “Come on, I’ll drive you out to Berkeley so you don’t have to take transit.”
As Penn and Hazel walk off, hand in hand, Ally snuggles her head into Noah’s chest, the picture of contentment. “I’m so happy I don’t have to work today.”
“Want to nap together, then order brunch and watch Matchmaker Mansion in bed?” Noah asks.
Ally puts a hand to her forehead, pretending to swoon. “That was possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Noah scoops her up in his arms and whispers something in her ear I don’t catch, but whatever it is, it’s enough to make her cheeks flame crimson as he carries her off to his room.
Which leaves me alone with my husband.
“I can’t believe how late it is.”
Fisher leans on the doorframe, his huge body filling the space. “You probably needed the sleep after I’ve kept you up with my sleep talking for so many nights now.”
“Can barely remember life without your sleep talking now. And sleep spooning.” My words are meant to be light and playful. Harmless teasing. But they come out breathy and quiet.
“I missed holding you last night,” Fisher replies. His voice is as raspy as mine.
Our gazes clash, and a few silent moments pass between us. He lowers his eyes and shoves his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the action almost bashful.
Fisher clears his throat. “Do you, uh, have any plans for today, Wife?”
I should go to the firehouse and work for at least the next twelve hours at least to make up for yesterday’s lack of progress on my gallery series.
“No plans.”
“Feel like celebrating with me?” He nods towards the opposite hallway with a smirk. “Everybody’s doing it.”
A sharp pang of want ricochets through me. It’s an ache to just…be with him today. To spend the day together. Just us.
“I could celebrate.” I climb out of Ally’s bed faster than I should, and the world lurches on its axis. I rub my temples. “As long as it doesn’t involve any more wine.”
Fisher tells me we’re going downtown for lunch but doesn’t elaborate further.
I shower, blow-dry and style my hair, then apply my makeup.
I take extra time to get my eyeliner perfectly precise.
Then it takes me about ten minutes to pick out an outfit.
It’s not like me—usually, I go with my intuition when I get dressed, wearing whatever looks most pleasing to me at that moment.
Because that’s who I’ve always dressed for: myself.
I figured if what I wore made me feel good, it would look good, so I never cared much about what other people thought… until today, apparently.
Today, I want to look good for Fisher. I want to make him look at me in the same way he did when his eyes roved over me in the bathroom, drinking me in like he’d been dying of thirst in the desert.
Standing there in my nondescript, non-sexy underwear, he made me go from embarrassed to feeling the most beautiful I’d ever felt in a matter of moments.
Eventually, I settle on low slung baggy jeans and an eyelet-embroidered white sleeveless top that’s cute and casual enough for lunch, yet understatedly sexy.
When I walk into the living area, I find my husband sitting on the couch in chinos and a hunter green T-shirt that hugs his biceps.When he sees me, his mouth falls open.
“Lila.” He swallows. “You look beautiful.”
I flush, glad my efforts were worth it. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Hungry?” Fisher asks, and I jolt, panicking for a moment that I accidentally spoke that thought out loud before realizing he’s talking about lunch.
“Starving,” I reply, not talking about lunch at all.
We drive into town with the music up and the windows down in the G Wagon. The salty breeze whips through my hair and I tilt my face towards the sun, letting it warm my skin. I’m exactly where I want to be at this moment. Where I’m meant to be.
Fisher pulls the vehicle into a parking lot and kills the engine, and I realize we’re at the Palace of Fine Arts.
It’s one of my favorite places in the city, and it’s also the setting for my painting, Waking Dreams, which now hangs on the wall of the loft.
The same one Fisher paid double the asking price for, which still makes my stomach dip when I think about it.
The painting holds so many of the emotions I was struggling with after my mom died, and it’s daunting to think about what my husband saw in it that he connected with it enough to buy it for a crazy price.
“It’s such a nice day, I thought we could have a picnic,” Fisher explains as he reaches into the backseat, retrieving a rolled up plaid blanket.
“If that’s okay with you?” He looks at me, his brow crinkling.
“The cherry blossoms are still out, so I thought we could catch the last of them before they’re gone for the season. ”
Of course he did.
“It’s perfect,” I say quickly.
Too perfect. Even without knowing this crucial part of my identity, he intuitively understands so much of who I am at my core.
“I painted some cherry blossoms recently. That piece was the last work I finished.” I want to say both less and more. Wishing this all didn’t make me feel both safe and scared. These polarizing feelings are confusing beyond belief.
“I’d love to see that.”
I’d like to be brave enough to show him. “One day.” The words feel like a promise.
We get out of the vehicle and start walking toward the grounds where people often spread blankets on the grass when it’s nice out.
Finding an empty patch not too far from the pond, Fisher spreads out the blanket, but he has nothing else with him.
No food, no drinks. Which is actually kind of cute—it’s the thought that counts, and I love that he thought of a picnic in the first place.
“I’ll run to the nearest deli or grocery store to get some sandwiches,” I offer. It’s the least I can do.
Fisher looks at me like he thinks this offer is beyond adorable. “Sandwiches?”
“You know, to eat?” I chuckle. “Why don’t you save our spot on the grass, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. There’s a good sub place nearby; what do you like?”
Instead of answering, my husband reaches out and grabs me, spinning me around to face him. I gasp in shock, and his grip tightens, holding me firmly.
He lowers his lips close to my ear. So close that I can smell his minty breath mingling with his intoxicating cologne as he rasps, “What I like, Wife, is taking you on dates where you don’t have to lift a damn finger.”
His words make a shiver course through me and I’m dizzier than night, drunk on everything that is him.
“Oh…okay,” I gasp, suddenly it’s hard to breathe. His skin is hot, his fingers searing heat into my body where he’s touching me. I turn to face him, drawn like a moth to a flame…
Fisher steps back, the absence of his warmth a shock to my already-shocked system.
“Good.” He smiles like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. “Because here’s our picnic now.”
“What?” I ask absently, my mind still muddled and soaked with longing…and did he just say this was a date?
My husband nods at something over my shoulder, and I spin around to see Lek, the owner of Siam House, walking towards us. He’s carrying a cardboard box that’s half as big as he is.
“Hi Lila!” He calls, smiling at me from over the top of the box. “Your husband called earlier to order food, and when I heard it was for you, I offered to deliver it myself.”
I look at Fisher in question, and he shrugs. “Had to do something useful in the time you took to get ready. You mentioned once that this was your favorite restaurant.”
I’m touched. That was weeks ago, an offhand comment I barely remember making. “You have a good memory.”
One of his dimples pops. “For certain things.”
“So much food,” Lek says when he reaches us. He sets down the box beside our blanket. “Are you feeding your whole hockey team?”
Fisher blushes, and I watch in fascination as pink creeps into his cheeks. It’s adorable. “Just us.”
We chat with Lek for a few moments, and then say our goodbyes. I sit down on the blanket and peek inside the box. It’s overflowing with takeout containers that smell deliciously spicy. “Did you order the whole menu?”
Silence.
I whip my head around to look at him. “Oh my gosh, I was kidding! Did you actually?”
Fisher sighs. “You told me they made the best something-or-other in the city.”
“Khao soi.”
“Yeah, so I couldn’t remember what you said, and none of the names on the menu jogged my memory, so I just….ordered it all. To make sure your favorite was in there.”
“That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.”
He gives me a smile that feels like a secret. One that only I get the privilege of seeing. “I was hungry, too, so it worked out.”
We waste no time digging into the food, me teaching Fisher all about each dish as we try it. I love the way his brow furrows in concentration as he listens. How he asks so many questions, like he’s actually interested in what I’m saying.
By the time we’re both full, there’s plenty left. “The leftovers are enough to feed ten people,” I tease.
“Or Penn for one meal.”
We fall back onto the blanket, stretching out to soak up the sun. “That was amazing.”
“I think you’re pretty amazing.” I prop myself up on one elbow, my hair falling over my shoulder as I gaze down at him. I know it's cliche, but every time I look at him, I can’t help but think that he’s a work of art, painted by one of the greats. “Thanks for planning this.”
“Thanks for celebrating with me.” He smiles. “I like spending time with you, Lila.”
I like you. Period.
My heart starts thumping so fast, it echoes in my ears. “Earlier, you said this was a…date?”
“Do you want it to be a date?” My husband’s question is a loaded gun, and I’m ready to put my finger on the trigger.
“I do.” I smile shakily.
Fisher reaches up, his fingertips skimming my cheekbone as he tucks a dark strand of my hair behind my ear.
The sensation makes me sigh, and his fingers still for a moment, hovering at the hyper-sensitive skin behind my ear.
My pulse jumps as he looks at me with heavy-lidded eyes filled with unmistakable desire.
“What else do you want, Lila?” His voice is low and so rough, it’s like the sound scrapes against my skin.
I can hardly form a coherent thought. Everything around me fades into white noise so it’s only me and him here in this moment together.
My mind spins as his fingers begin to move again, his big hand threading into my hair.
Fisher rakes his nails across my scalp gently, cupping the back of my head, and I give myself over to the sensations he’s coaxing from me.
Right now, he’s the artist, and I’m the canvas, being brought to life by his touch.
I want you. However scary that is, it’s the truth.
“I…” I look at him and his eyes are ablaze.
I bring my hand to his face, sliding my fingers over his jaw.
His stubble prickles my skin. He swallows, and the wildfire in his gaze threatens to burn out of control.
His hand tightens on the back of my neck, and I think I might die if I have to suffer another moment without his lips on mine.
My eyes flutter closed, and I lean closer, so close we’re sharing breath…
His phone rings. The sound fractures our fragile bubble, and I’m catapulted back to reality.