Page 167 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“I know the baby is mine. And now, so is Tally.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.”

Oh Christ, she’s going to drag me down this conversation path. “With the right woman, I do. Otherwise, it’s a recipe for disaster. Charlotte, we were a terrible fit from the beginning.”

“I know,” she replies, a bit too brightly to be authentic. “You certainly didn’t fit the image that my family name needs to portray.”

“Not even remotely. Remember your father’s face when he saw my tattoos for the first time? I wasn’t sure which of you was going to faint first.” I’m trying to bring the conversation back to a lighter topic, while still driving home how awful we were together. “I really believe the right man is out there for you. I just hope you treat that relationship more conscientiously than you did ours.”

“I loved you.”

Another lie. Charlotte has never experienced love, at least none that I’m aware of, and for that, I pity her. I tried to love her, but emotionally, she was an island, unreachable by any means. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have cheated, no matter what excuse you provide.”

“I wanted to love you,” she relents, releasing a sigh.

“But you didn’t. You loved what you thought I could become, loved me when I donned a tux and played the part of the millionaire husband. But when I stripped down, and you saw the real me—tattoos, hardcore music—you turned away. Tally embraces every facet of me. The real me.”

“She’s punk, like you are.”

“We’re not punks, Charlotte. We listen to punk music. We have tattoos, but that doesn’t make us anarchists. We’re actually upstanding citizens, pay our taxes and everything.”

“I don’t hate Tallulah, even if she is rough around the edges.”

“She’s real, Charlotte, and she’s going to be my wife.”

Charlotte downs the liquid in her glass, before grabbing the whiskey from my hand and doing the same. “Congratulations on your second engagement. I think we should celebrate.”

Oh crap, I know that look. My sex life with Charlotte was as cool and calculated as the rest of our relationship, although she could get a bit frisky after imbibing one too many cocktails. Those few times over the course of the last several years were the only moments where Charlotte felt human to me. “We should get you some coffee.”

Without warning, she presses her body against mine, and I tense at the unwelcome advance.

I just proposed to Tally. Charlotte heard my proposal. Only problem? She doesn’t care.

“What are you doing, Charlotte?” I inquire, pushing her away from me.

Her hand slides down the front of my trousers, cupping my cock, those green eyes glowing with purpose. “I told you. We’re celebrating.”

With a grimace, I remove her hand, but she’s not willing to relent. Her free hand takes its place, lowering my zipper and sliding inside to grasp my shaft.

I huff out a breath. Never in our relationship was the woman this forward, this demanding. “You need to stop. Right now.” I jerk her hands up, grasping them with my own as I fumble my zipper closed.

“Or what? If you expect me to play nice, you’ll have to bring something to the table.”

I whirl her around so her back is to the wall, my arms caging her in, my body raging with anger. “I am bringing something to the table. The robotics cath lab, remember? The reason we are all here. Did you think you’d come to Florida after cheating on me and getting knocked up by another man, snap your fingers and bring me back into the fold? I’m not your servant, Charlotte. I don’t work for you.”

“You work for my father.”

“Correction. I workwithyour father. He’s trying to help save lives, you’re trying to ruin them.”

Her lips crush against mine, but I fend her off easily, wiping my mouth. “Stop it. Have some self-respect.”

“Why do you want her and not me?”

“I love her, Charlotte. I never loved you. You never loved me. It was a business arrangement, more than it was ever a relationship.”

I see tears in her eyes, but I know better. This is just another act, a ploy for sympathy. Besides, emotions in public are not Charlotte’s style.

What she will do is negotiate. And I can see by the set of her jaw, her terms are non negotiable. “You stand to lose an awful lot, Owen.”

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