Page 149 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“I thought you said he fixed that problem.”

Damn Stefani and her elephant-like memory. “Okay, so I may be exaggerating. Since I moved in, Owen sees Charlotte once or twice a week. But that’s still too many times. He’s not supposed to be hanging out with his ex-fiancée at all. That’s why she’s his ex!”

“Thankfully, the rigamarole for the training center is almost completed, right? Then, your life can get back to happy sex times.”

I grunt, shaking my head. “It’s not that simple.”

Stefani gives my shoulder a gentle rub. “You don’t feel you measure up? Am I right?”

I hate how transparent I am, and I worry that Owen realizes the truth, too. “How can I not? I have a healthy self-confidence, but that woman is supermodel material. I look like I ate a beach ball.”

“You do not. You’re adorable.”

“Yeah, an adorable person who ate a beach ball.”

I don’t mention my battle with the full-length bathroom mirror today. It’s unnatural how much bigger I look than last week. I went from a three-months pregnant belly to six in the blink of an eye.

I’m exaggerating again, but these pregnancy hormones are not helping my cause. Neither is the six-foot statuesque beauty who is champing at the bit to bring Owen back into her clutches.

At this point, I’m not sure which of us looks more pathetic. Me, homeless and crashing in Owen’s guest room or Charlotte plying him with million-dollar deals.

“Stop being so damn hard on yourself. You also need to stop focusing your energy on Charlotte. Owen doesn’t want her, Lu. If he did, he would have reconciled with her already.”

“Fine,” I mutter, stealing a fry from her plate. Stefani definitely got the bigger serving. “Tell me about your dates with Dan.”

The smile creeping across her face speaks volumes, and for a minute, I forget about the craziness called my life.

Hey, at least one of us is getting laid.

I arrive back at the condo an hour later, and pause to appreciate the view. It’s a gorgeous location, but aren’t most million-dollar pads? I wager his apartment with Charlotte resembled Buckingham Palace.

Speaking of the ice queen, at least her car is nowhere around. I hold my breath every time I pull into the parking garage, certain I’ll see her waiting for Owen like some gorgeous, insane stalker.

I open the front door, greeted by the smell of cinnamon apples wafting through the air. I don’t know how, but this place always smells like the inside of a bakery. Damn, now I’m hungry again.

“Hecate,” I call out, climbing the steps to the rooftop garden. No sign of little miss priss, but it is a gray day. “Hecate, where are you?”

“We’re in here,” Owen calls from the bedroom.

His bedroom.

I pause by the door, releasing a fake scoff of indignation. “Seriously?”

Owen offers a sleepy smile from his spot on the bed, my cat curled up next to him. “I told you that Hecate makes the final decision.”

“Now, I know where she’s been the last few nights. Traitorous animal. So much for loyalty.”

Owen chuckles, stroking Hecate’s head. “Jealous? Come here, I’ll scratch your head, too.”

I glare at him even though a warm flush passes through my body. “Pass.”

“You know you want it.”

“I know no such thing,” I volley back.

“Stop being such a hardass, Tally.”

“Why should I?”

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