Page 186 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“About thirty minutes. They have to get him settled in his room.”

“Is he on a ventilator?”

“He might be, but only for a short while.” I pull her close, offering her my highest level of nursing comfort. “Your son is going to be okay.”

“Well, since we know that Owen is going to make it, we better be on our way.” Mr. Auerback motions to his daughter, extending his hand toward me. “Welcome aboard, Tallulah. It’s a pleasure.”

I nod, not sure what in the world the man means. “Thank you for earlier.”

“Daddy, I’ll be down in a minute.” Charlotte turns, motioning for me to step away from the group. “Might I have a word?”

I join her in the far corner, my eyes glancing to the waiting room door every few seconds, hoping I’ll see the recovery room nurse appear, letting me know I can see my Owen. “You don’t have to leave. Stay, say hello.”

“I’ll call him in a few days. I wanted to discuss the meeting.”

“Meeting?” She can’t be serious right now.

“The meeting this morning. It was to offer you a new position.”

I wave my hand, my gaze intent on the door. “I don’t care about any position.”

“I know, but it means something to Owen. There’s a national position, overseeing all the accounts. It would allow you to travel and see the world. It also provides a handsome payday, more than triple the coordinator position.”

Say what now?

My gaze returns to Charlotte, my jaw slack with surprise. “Owen knew about this?”

“It was one of his stipulations. He set it up with my father that night.”

“That night?”

“The night Owen proposed, and I threw a tantrum. I apologize. It was such poor form, but I wanted to ruin your moment.”

“You succeeded.”

“I’m a class A bitch.”

“Agreed. But so am I. In another life, we might have been friends.”

She shrugs, a smile on her lips. “Who knows? There might still be hope for us. Take care of him, Tallulah.”

“What was that about?” Mrs. Stevens inquires when I return to her side, nodding at Charlotte’s retreating form.

“They offered me the nationwide coordinator position.” I narrow my eyes at Owen’s mother. “Did you know about this?”

“I might have heard something. Come on, dear, a mother knows. I knew you were pregnant at that dinner, too.”

“Smarty pants. Now I know where your son gets it from.”

“You’ll have quite the life, Tally. You’ll be living the jet set with that job.”

I nod, but the glitter of hobnobbing around the world doesn’t hold any appeal. Not anymore.

41

Tally

Hospital chairs are not conducive to sleep, but I’m so weary from the day’s events that I pass out with my hand wrapped around Owen’s fingers. His mother sits on the opposite side of the bed, crocheting yet another baby blanket.

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