Chapter 20
FISHER
Twisting the ring on my left hand around on my finger, I stare up at the smooth white ceiling, unable to find even a minute of sleep on the uncomfortable couch.
It’s a white, modular monstrosity of a couch.
I miss the soft, green eclectic one from her apartment years ago.
She found it at some thrift store on the west coast and told me how she had to con Elias into getting a rental truck and driving it to Florida for her.
I wonder if she got rid of it or if it’s in some storage facility.
Rolling over to my side, I squeeze my eyes shut and lay there letting the minutes pass by without sleep coming to claim me.
The only sound I hear from Ebba’s room is the soft whirl of her fan. I can’t help wondering if she’s sound asleep or struggling like I am. Not that I’m going to knock on her door and find out.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I grab my phone off the coffee table and scroll through my notes.
I have a lot of ideas to make this place more Ebba, but I only have two weeks to do it and I’m without my tools.
I know it’s not my place to fix up her place, but I can’t help myself when this place is so obviously not her.
There’s no color. No life. It’s an empty shell.
I can’t help feeling responsible for turning her into whatever this is.
The slight squeak of her bedroom door has me sitting up and looking over to my left to find her peeking out of her room.
“Oh,” she startles. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I have a hard time peeling my eyes away from her long legs and the tiny pair of blue shorts she wears with a matching tank. “You didn’t. I can’t seem to sleep.”
She eyes the couch and winces slightly when she notices my legs hanging over the edge.
“It’s not the most comfortable sofa. I’m sorry.”
I sit up fully and let the blanket pool in my lap as I swing my legs around. My eyes track her movements, the way she slowly pads her away over to the pantry closet.
Looking over her shoulder, she asks, “Do you want a snack? I have plenty.”
“No, I’m good.”
She nods and rifles through boxes, finally deciding on some sort of bar. “Are you sure you don’t want one?” She holds the bar out to me and in the darkness, I have to squint to make out the label. Something about salty and sweet.
“I’ll try it.”
She tosses it to me and like a fool I fumble the catch, and it drops on the floor. A small giggle has her slapping her hand over her mouth. Maybe being a fool isn’t such a bad thing if it makes her laugh.
Scooping it up, I rip the wrapper and take a bite that’s far too big and crumbs spew out of the corner of my mouth.
“Dewicious.” She giggles again. Swallowing, I repeat, “Delicious.”
She takes a bite of her own bar and leans back against her kitchen cabinet. The green glow of the lights on the microwave halo her in the darkness.
“I’ll … uh … get you a blow-up mattress tomorrow … well, today I guess,” she mumbles, eyeing the time on the microwave.
“I can get one,” I say. Setting the rest of the bar on the coffee table, I wipe my fingers on the blanket and contemplate how I want to broach this conversation. “I need to ask you something.”
She straightens and swipes a stray crumb off her mouth. “What?” Her eyes drop to the floor.
“The other night … the sex … you don’t feel like I coerced you, do you?
” It’s been haunting me since this afternoon when it occurred to me on the plane.
In the moment it seemed like we both wanted it, but I’m scared I didn’t read the signs right or maybe she asked me to stop, and I didn’t listen.
If that’s the case it makes me sick and she won’t have to worry about any six months.
I’ll give her the annulment right this second.
She shakes her head. “No, Fisher. It was very much consensual.”
If I wasn’t so relieved I might be embarrassed by the sigh I let out. “Good. That’s good.”
She cracks a small smile. “I’m a tad offended you think I wouldn’t have said something.”
“We were both drunk,” I explain, ducking my head. “Sometimes once you’re sober things don’t feel the same.”
She bites her bottom lip lightly. “I wanted it, Fisher. I wanted you. Even if it was the last time.”
Now that I know she was as into it as I was, it’s easy to say, “It wasn’t the last time.”
She cracks a tiny smile. “We’ll see.” She throws her wrapper into the trash and strolls past me to her room. “Goodnight, Fisher.”
“Night, Eb.”
Her door clicks softly closed behind her and I lie down again. The sleep I couldn’t find before comes easily this time.