Page 113 of Forgot to Tell You Something

Mrs. Smalls doesn’t respond, but her nervous, darting glances make her answer clear.

As soon as possible.

I offer her a reassuring smile. “I just need to find a place and pack. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

What’s to understand? She has a family and they need help. I know the feeling all too well. I stepped in to help my family when the need arose. That’s what you do.

“It’s perfect timing. Moving will keep my mind off things,” I reply, but it isn’t the truth. It only adds to my ever-growing pile of worries.

* * *

Memorial granted me a week of mourning, but I return early. I need to stay busy, and helping others will make me feel better, right?

So very, very wrong.

“Ouch,” I moan, laying my head back against the pillow, pressing the ice pack to my face. “He might be almost eighty, but damn, that man can hit.”

“He was fast as greased lightning,” Janine, one of the unit nurses, adds, lifting the ice pack to check the swelling. “I’m sorry, Lu. I tried to catch his arm.”

Her patient, fresh out of surgery and still halfway under the effects of anesthesia, did not wake up in a happy mood. It happens, albeit rarely, and most of the time, their aim is clumsy, and I have no issue evading their swings.

Not this time.

I blame my pregnancy brain. I’m serious. Since I found out I’m carrying Nugget, my brain cells have up and flitted away into the ether. It doesn’t help that I’ve yet to figure out how to broach the topic to Owen.

I know. I sound like a terrible bitch for hiding the pregnancy. Once I got past being mad about Charlotte and yet another lie, I realized Stefani was right. Owen deserves to know he’s going to be a father. I also can’t hide the pregnancy from him forever. Hell, it’s already noticeable when I’m naked—one of the many benefits of being short. There’s nowhere for my Nugget to hide.

So, I planned on telling Owen, but then my dad died and then the apartment situation…it’s an ongoing menagerie of crap.

And now, to top it all off, here I sit, in the ED, a bruise forming on my cheek and a banger of a headache brewing behind my eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We need to check.” Janine motions to my belly, and I wave her off. Yes, Janine knows that I’m expecting. She wasn’tsupposedto know, but she overheard a discussion between Stefani and me. It wasn’t hard for her to connect the dots. Thankfully, the woman is Fort Knox when it comes to keeping secrets.

“Hazard of the job. Besides, he hit my face, not my stomach,” I add with a chuckle, the last word barely escaping my lips as the bay curtain slides open.

Owen.

I’m not sure who told him, but he made it down here in record time. Hell, I only stumbled in ten minutes ago. But it’s the look on his face. If he’s this distraught about a bruised cheek, I can only fathom what he’ll be like in the delivery room. Then I recall what I just said to Janine and wonder if Owen overheard our conversation. Let’s be honest, privacy curtains are hardly soundproof.

He rushes to my side, cupping the good side of my face and giving Janine a look. “Can you give us a minute?”

Janine nods, sending me a wink. “No problem, Dr. Stevens. When did you transfer to the ED?” She giggles at his glare, but abides his demand, ducking out of the enclosed bay. Memorial is a big hospital, but it’s not that big. She guessed Nugget’s father on the first try.

Any rigidity dissolves once it’s just the two of us, as he gingerly lifts the ice pack.

“You should see the other guy,” I smirk, wincing when his fingers gently palpate the area.

“I’ll bet. You can take a punch, Darlin. I’m impressed.”

“See? Everyone has a talent.”

“You have tons of talents. Several of which I’ve missed desperately this last week.”

My body flames at his words. Glad to know I’m not the only one. I avoid his probing gaze, my eyes focused on the pilled blanket. “These blankets are like sandpaper.”

Owen releases a huff. He knows I’m not going to address his earlier statement. “Did he get you anywhere else?”

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