“Eventually,” he said.
“Fisher …”
“Nurse Capshaw, queen of the veiled birth.”
As the door closed behind me and he started to release my hand, I squeezed my grip on him and yanked him to stop. “Veiled birth?”
“It’s another term for en caul.”
I nodded once. “I’m aware. But how do you know that?”
He shrugged. “Probably a crossword puzzle or something.”
“I haven’t put that in my puzzles.”
Fisher shrugged a second time and tried to turn away from me.
Again, I tugged his arm. “Fisher Mann … you like crossword puzzles. You liked them before I made them for you.”
He eyed me for a few seconds with the most contemplative expression. “Are you genuinely asking me or are you testing me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know so much about Angie that there are some days I don’t feel like I’ve lost memories of her. I start to wonder if the events in my head are my memories or things I’ve been told because I’ve been told everything. The only test I have with her is my feelings. I don’t remember how I felt about her. But with you it’s different.”
“Different how?” I released his hand, feeling the shift. Now I was the one being interrogated, not him.
“I feel like you’ve given me bits and pieces, on a need-to-know basis. My story with Angie makes sense in my head. Childhood friends. On and off again relationship when we got older. Me doing my thing. Her doing her thing. Our families keeping us connected. She comes back to town for her mom. We rekindle our romance. Even if I don’t feel it now, it makes sense to me.”
“Well, that’s good.” I gave him a tight grin as I fiddled with the hem of my shirt.
“From everything my family has told me about who I was, I don’t think I would have taken a part-time employee to my workshop. I wouldn’t have showed her how to sand anything. Yet that’s your story.”
“You thought a lot of Rory. I’m sure it was a favor to her. And I was relentless. You probably just did it to shut me up.”
With his brow drawn tight, almost cemented in place, he inched his head side to side. “Why were you so certain I’d like crossword puzzles?”
Another half shrug. “I wasn’t. Why are you being so weird? Have you remembered something? Memories can return slowly, and they can cause confusion as you try to piece them together and make sense of them.”
“Do you know an attorney named Brendon?”
I swallowed hard. “What? Why?” It barely made its way past the constriction of my throat.
“Because I saw him yesterday.”
“Where?”
“At my therapist’s office.”
“You have a therapist?”
Fisher nodded like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Since when?” I asked.
“Since yesterday.”
“Why?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“We are. Why?”
“Because I was in an accident. I’m missing part of my memory, and I have a fiancée and maybe a girlfriend.” He shook his head like talking about it bothered him. “And it’s not my point anyway.”
“What’s your point?”