“Oh … absolutely. I’ll call the Jensens. They’d be totally cool with me showing it to you.” She laughed. “But I’m sure they know you quite well. I suppose you could call them too. Maybe we can make a date of it sometime.”

No. No. NO!

Peeling my ear from the door, I pressed both palms to it and sank into a squat, my forehead gently pressed to it as I closed my eyes and prayed for God to erase the past month from it.

Take me back to Texas.

And never let me think of Fisher Mann again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was one night. I should have stuffed my face and gone to sleep in a food coma. Instead, I skipped dinner and went for a run. Then I did an hour of yoga.

Shower.

Crossword puzzles.

Bible.

Prayer.

More prayer.

Ear to the upstairs door, listening for any sign of Fisher.

More prayer.

I went all in, asking for forgiveness for my thoughts and for putting Fisher’s penis in my mouth. Did God get a lot of penis prayers? It seemed unlikely. Maybe guys with STDs praying for a quick recovery and promising to return to celibacy.

I didn’t promise celibacy because technically, I was still celibate. Or so I told myself.

A little before one in the morning, I took my restless self to the screened-in porch, wearing a tee and white panties. Blanket in hand.

Reaching for the light switch, I accidentally hit another switch and strings of globe lights illuminated the porch. I didn’t know they were there. How did I miss them?

It was … enchanting.

I grinned. My first grin since Fisher left me for Tiffany and jazz music. Curling up in the corner of the patio sectional, I took a deep breath of the chilly night’s air and closed my eyes. That was all it took for my mind to settle and sleep to find me.

At some point, my eyes fluttered open, a weird feeling that someone was there.

Fisher …

He stood next to me, watching me sleep.

“What time is it?” I squinted my eyes.

“Two.”

“Where’s Rory?” I rubbed one eye.

“She stayed at Rose’s place to sober up.”

I nodded and yawned.

“Why are you sleeping out here?” he asked.

“Because I couldn’t sleep inside.”

“Why?” He toed off his shoes.

“I …” I lifted a shoulder, feeling embarrassed about my terrible thoughts. “I don’t know.”

He sat at the end of the sofa, stretching his legs out, swallowing the entire length. “Come here,” he whispered.

I gave his request a moment’s pause before crawling toward him with my blanket. Settling my body between his legs and over his chest, I nuzzled my face into his neck.

He still smelled like pine and soap. And not her.