Page 153 of Forgot to Tell You Something

Holy shit, is Owen referring to an engagement? He mentioned purchasing a ring and making me Mrs. Stevens that day in his office. Was he serious? Did he really buy one?

My mind reels. “You’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?” I stutter out, my body trembling with anticipation.

Owen stands up and walks into the other room, giving me a few moments to contemplate my answer. This hardly qualifies as an ornate proposal, but itisa proposal. Or it will be…if that’s what he has planned.

But when Owen returns, he’s carrying a piece of paper instead of a jewelry box, and I fight hard to swallow the overwhelming disappointment.

He isn’t proposing. He doesn’t want to make me Mrs. Stevens.

But for that brief moment, when I believed that to be his intention, all seemed right with the world.

Put on a smiling face, Tallulah. It’s not his fault you had china patterns picked out.

“What’s that, a lease agreement?” I ask, forcing a cheery smile to cover the fact that I want to dissolve into a puddle of tears.

“No,” Owen shakes his head, unfolding the paper. “When I visited your Dad, he gave me something.”

“I still can’t believe you went to see him. I really love that you did that.”

“It was that night after you met Charlotte. I had this whole evening planned, and instead, I ended up driving all over town, looking for you. I stopped at his facility, hoping you might be with him.”

The mention of that night dissipates any remaining glitter from my imagined high. “I made certain to avoid any place that I thought you might know. I didn’t want you finding me.”

“Fair enough, but it didn’t stop me from looking.” Owen clears his throat, and I see his hands tremble. “I told your Dad what an amazing job he’d done raising you, and I promised him I would take over from here. I told him how much I love you, and that he was going to be a grandpa.”

Tears fill my eyes as I realize that Owen got to tell my father the news. It was my one regret—he died without knowing his legacy would live on. “I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t get the chance. Wait, that was weeks ago. How did you—”

“I knew, Darlin, for a long time. That dinner with my Mom? I knew then. Anyway, he gave me this when I told him you were pregnant.”

I take the paper with shaking hands, a tear falling onto the aged parchment. “I made this for him in kindergarten. I can’t believe he kept it. I didn’t think he still remembered.”

“He remembered you. You were his wildflower. And now, you’re mine.”

I launch off the couch, throwing myself into Owen’s arms.

It isn’t a ring, but for my battered heart, it’s just as good. That, and the feel of his arms encircling me, offering the protection I crave, sets my world back to right.

“Thank you so much for this.” I pull back, wiping my eyes. “I really hope our child is more artistically inclined than I was,” I remark with a laugh, my finger tracing my six-year-old interpretation of a horse and buggy.

“It’s adorable. It’s perfectly you. I’m sorry that I didn’t give it to you sooner. Things have been so—”

“Shitty between us?” I finish his statement with a smirk.

Owen barks out a harsh laugh. “Exactly. It’s not an excuse, though.”

“You’re forgiven. This time at least,” I growl, adding in a wink for good measure. “Let me put this away, and then I have just the movie for us to watch. Who doesn’t love a screwball comedy?”

Owen sighs, running a hand along his trimmed beard. “We’re still watching a movie, huh?”

I pause, turning back to face him. “What else would you like to do?”

“I’ll tell you what else.” He frames my face, forcing my chin upwards. Those dark gray eyes thunder with feeling as he thumbs lazy circles on my cheeks. “I’m sick of this, Tallulah.” His breath holds the faint scent of alcohol, his words brimming with intensity.

I want to back away from him, put some breathing room between us, but Owen isn’t allowing it. I’m fairly certain I know to what he’s referring, but let’s be honest, I also thought he was going to propose not five minutes earlier. I will not read him wrong twice tonight.

“Sick of what?”

“Sick of pretending that I don’t crave you every time you’re within ten feet of me.” His lips glide against my hair while his hands curve around my hips. “I want to be inside you. I want to kiss every inch of you.”

---