Whimsy clears her throat. “If it makes you feel any better, baby, seeing you all strong and lifting all this big furniture is really turning me on.”
My brother grins and lifts his arms, showing off his muscles. I roll my eyes at the display.
“You like this, Whim?”
I cover my eyes with my hands. “Please, stop with the foreplay in my presence. Just take care of the couches.”
“Later,” he says to Whimsy, and I shudder in horror.
They eventually manage to get the couch out of the apartment and the other inside. I have to admit there’s a part of me happy to see that old piece of myself in this place. At the time I wanted to lock all my memories away, but maybe I shouldn’t have done that.
While the guys head out with the other couch with plans to drop it off at a nearby donation location, Whimsy and I go out onto my balcony.
“How does it feel being a wife?” she asks, wiping the condensation off her cup.
I groan, shaking my head hard enough to give myself a headache. “Don’t say that word.”
She laughs and sets her cup on the small table between us. “Why not? Youaremarried.”
“I’m trying not to think about that fact,” I defend. “It’s a lot to process—the marriage, Fisher living here, wondering what comes next.”
She pulls her blond hair back into a ponytail and secures it. The light wind we have today stirs a few loose strands around her face. “Are you giving him a chance?”
“It’s been two days, and he’s entirely redecorated my condo. I think that constitutes giving him a chance.”
She shrugs and sips at the dregs of her iced coffee. The straw makes a slurping sound when there’s no more coffee. She frowns at the cup like she’s offended that it’s all gone and sets it back down. “All I mean is, go on some dates with him, have a movie night in, talk shit out from your past—give it a real chance, because I know you Ebba and you might not want to right now, but you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I look away from her probing stare. She’s right, but that doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. I never thought I’d get a second chance with Fisher. I’ve always been drawn to him, even when I hated him, but I firmly put him in thenever againcategory because I thought there would be no way for me to detach my bad memories from him. But if I’m being honest with myself, I haven’t been dwelling on those things like I thought I would. Sure, that hurt is still there, but it’s not as prominent as it once was.
“Listen,” Whimsy goes on, reaching for my hand. “I love you—as a friend, as a future-sister-in-law, just as a person—so I’m always firmly going to be Team Ebba. I wouldn’t be pestering you about this if it weren’t for the fact that for years, I’ve seen the two of you steal glances at each other. There’s something there, something powerful, and I don’t want you to miss out on your perfect love because of fear.”
“We were so young the first time,” I start, and she cuts me off.
“Exactly.” She snaps her fingers. “Young people make mistakes all the time. You’re both older and hopefully wiser now.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “You deserve the world, and he looks at you like you’re more than that. You’re like the whole universe to him or something.”
I lower my head, an achy feeling low in my stomach. I understand what she’s saying and deep down I know if I don’t give this an actual shot, I’ll hate myself for it later.
“I’ll be more open-minded.”
She smiles, clearly pleased with herself that her little pep talk has worked. “Good. I’m glad.”
I hope my heart doesn’t regret this.
CHAPTER 24
FISHER
This couch isby far more comfortable than the previous monstrosity and yet I still find myself unable to sleep. If I continue at this rate, I’ll barely be able to function over the coming days.
Sitting up, I shove the blanket off my body and stand. My knees crack ominously as I make my way over to the kitchen and grab the teapot, filling it with water. I’m not much of a tea drinker, but my mom used to make me some whenever I was having a particularly hard time sleeping.
While the water heats on the stove I search through Ebba’s pantry for a packet of tea. I don’t find any, so I move to the drawers. Finding the box, I pull out a packet of the sleepy time tea.
“Grab another one for me.”
The packet in my hand goes flying and splats against the floor as I swing around to find Ebba haloed in the doorway of her bedroom. She has a robe wrapped around her body—a lime green color with different fruits on it—and she gives me a half-smile.
“Jesus, woman. You scared me.” I press a hand to my heart. I’m pretty sure if I wore pearls I’d be clutching them in fear right about now.
