“I’m going to take off. Nice to meet you, Rory. And good to see you again, Fisher.”

Fisher returned a slow nod, no smile.

Brendon grabbed my hand again and gave it a quick squeeze, but something crossed his face, like he was contemplating something. Before I could stop it, he leaned in (IN FRONT OF THEM) and kissed my cheek.

I felt like an adulterer.

“Aw …” Rory rested her hand on Fisher’s arm like, “Look at your sister. She’s found a nice boy.”

“Bye,” I whispered past the painful lump in my throat. After Brendon pulled out of the driveway, I forced my gaze back to Rory and Fisher.

“He seems perfect, Reese.” Rory beamed.

“He’s nice.” I couldn’t hold my gaze to Fisher’s, so I stared at my feet, kicking at a few landscaping rocks that were on the paving stones.

“Well, I’m going to run to the store and grab some groceries for the week. Do you want to come with me?”

“Um … would it be okay if I didn’t go? I feel like I’ve been gone all day.”

“No problem. Anything special you want me to get for you?”

“Whatever you get is fine.” I risked a glance at Fisher.

He had the most unreadable expression.

“Okay. Thanks for the tea, Fisher.”

“Yup,” Fisher said in a monotone voice.

I waited for her to go into the house to presumably put her glass in his kitchen and get her purse. Sitting in her chair, I waited for him to say something.

He didn’t.

A few minutes later, Rory came back out the front door with her purse over her shoulder. “Text me if you think of anything you do want me to get for you.”

“Okay,” I murmured.

We watched her get into her Outback and drive down the street.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going to—”

“For god’s sake, Reese.” He stood, making his way to the front door. “Don’t do this. Don’t apologize for finding an age-appropriate guy.”

I jumped to my feet and followed him. “I didn’t find an age-appropriate guy. We’re just friends.”

“Didn’t look like that.” He put his empty glass in the dishwasher.

“Well, he’s mistaken. And I’ll let him know that when I see him again.”

Fisher turned, eyes narrowed, hands sliding into his back pockets. “Rory likes him.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Then she can date him.”

He grunted. “I don’t think he’s her type.”

“Well, he’s not my type.”

“No?”

I shook my head.

“He should be.”

“Are you …” I sauntered toward him. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not fucking jealous of Bible Boy.” He glanced down at me, hands still planted in his back pockets.

I frowned. “Be nice.”

“What if I don’t want to be nice?”