“Ha! I knew it. Same predictable code and …” He ran from Fisher. “You still have her number!” A few seconds later, Arnie slowed and held out one hand, signaling Fisher to stop as he used his other hand to hold the phone to his ear.

I couldn’t hear him, but I could see him talking while Fisher rested one hand on his hip and hung his head.

“It’s on!” Arnie tossed Fisher’s phone to him and strutted back toward the house.

If I read Fisher’s lips correctly, he called Arnie a “stupid fucker.”

“You’ll love Angie,” Shayla said as I sat next to her. “The love of Fisher’s life since grade school. He’s been too stupid to just marry her, so she’s now living in California. She comes back here a lot because her mom is disabled and her dad passed away several years ago.”

Just great …

Eighteen-year-old me, with no real-life goals, had known Fisher for just over three weeks, and I was supposed to compete with “the love of his life?”

“Why did she move to California?” I asked despite my better judgment.

“Aside from Fisher not proposing?” Teena sat in the chair across from me after Ryan took the squirming toddler. “She’s a biologist. Wicked smart.”

I had to give Fisher credit; he knew how to attract smart, successful women—until me. Well, I was smart, but how much success could I have claimed at eighteen, even if I had enrolled in college courses?

“Take my seat, Fisher. I have to check on Isaac.” Shayla vacated her spot.

Fisher sat next to me with his plate of food and a beer. I force-fed myself, chewing slowly, swallowing hard, and keeping my head down. That day, being eighteen sucked. I hadn’t grown out of my foolish heart. It wasn’t enough for me. Fisher’s attraction to me wasn’t enough. I wanted his heart to be mine and only mine. But maybe that wasn’t how his brain or his heart functioned.

“Fisher, did you bid on that job in Aurora?” Pat asked as he removed his apron and sat down to eat.

Their conversation lasted for a long time. Enough time for me to eat as much as I could and not look like I was tossing half of my food in the trash. When I did take my plate into the kitchen, I also looked for a bathroom—an escape.

“Oh, hey … I was looking for the restroom,” I said to Shayla when she startled me as I turned the corner from the kitchen to the small hallway.

“Isaac is using the restroom. He could be awhile.” She grimaced. “There’s one downstairs.”