Page 140 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“Owen, I’ve given you nothing but chances. We may be having a baby together, but I think the idea of you and me as anything more than friends and co-parents is a bad idea. Mostly for me and my heart.”

“Did you ever love me or was it just a line, something to say back to me? Did you feel obligated? Is that why you said it yesterday?”

He isnotgoing there.

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

His fist thumps the desk, making me jump. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I need to know. Please, Tally. Here’s the thing—if you’re putting up this wall because I was a dick and fucked up, then that’s one thing. I’ll bash through it and prove myself worthy of your love. But if you feel nothing beyond friendship, put me out of my misery.”

“Release you back to Charlotte, is that it?” Ouch, that was sharp, even for me.

“I don’t want Charlotte.”

“I don’t know what you want, Owen. I don’t thinkyouknow what you want.”

“I want you—”

“You say that, but actions speak louder than words.” This argument has left me exhausted, mentally and physically. “I’m getting a headache. Can we not do this right now?”

He latches onto my hand again, giving it a squeeze. “Of course, I don’t want you stressed.”

“I’ve been stressed for weeks.”

“That ends today. I’m taking over…even if you feel nothing beyond friendship.”

I know this is where I’m supposed to reassure him I feeleverythingbeyond friendship, that my entire body is lighting up like a damn carnival just being near him. But I can’t do it. Not this time. This time, I need to protect myself first. I spilled my heart yesterday, opening the door once again. And once again, he never showed.

I avert my gaze and pray that someone interrupts us.

The air between us hangs thick with tension, like the summer air before a thunderstorm cools everything down. I worry that if we don’t put some space between us, we’ll say something we regret.

“Five-thirty, right?”

My gaze swings back to him, narrowing in confusion. “Sorry?”

“The sonogram. It’s at five-thirty.”

“It is, but I know you’re busy.”

Do I want him there? Yes, indeed.

Do I want him to say he’ll be there, only to cancel and piss all over my hopes? Not a chance in hell.

Easier to play it off and expect nothing.

That’s what friends do, right?

God, being friends sucks.

“I’ll be at the sonogram.”

I push myself to a standing position, moving toward the door in an effort to move the conversation out of the office. “I told you, I’m fine. Me and Nugget got this.”

“Nugget?”

I laugh, despite the sadness in my heart. “That’s my nickname for him—or her. I think it’s a boy.”

Before I can react, his hand settles over my stomach, a smile I’ve never seen before playing along his mouth. “A boy, huh?”

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