Page 71 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“I wish you could build a time machine and travel back to tell your teenage self those words.” She taps the butcher block counter, sending me a pointed glance. “I’m thrilled Tally is still part of your life. I told you it wouldn’t be a big deal when she found out you’re a doctor.”

Oh, Mom, if you only knew.

My mother, being my mother, has inspected every inch of the condo, and it’s garnered her seal of approval. “Three bedrooms. Plenty of room, should you need it.”

It’s no secret that my mother wants grandchildren, and as her only son, she’s champing at the bit. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Mom, I can’t even get Tally to live here, and trust me, it’s a stepwayup.” I grimace at my words, offering a sheepish smile. “That sounded terrible. Her apartment isn’t bad, and her landlord is a lovely woman, but the neighborhood has gone downhill over the years. It’s not the safest location, and I want her safe.”

My mother cocks her head. “Don’t nurses make a good living down here?”

“The pay is decent, but that’s not the issue. She spends $3500 per month on a memory care facility for her father. There’s not a ton left over after she pays his bills. I can help foot those expenses.”

“Don’t be a savior—” she raises her hand, halting my argument. “Tally doesn’t seem to be a woman who’s looking for charity.”

“It’s not charity. It’s love.”

She sighs, a grin playing on her mouth. “What have you done with my son? I never thought I’d live long enough for you to want to settle down.”

“I was engaged, Mom,” I remind her.

“Yes, but you never made it down the aisle.”

“Thank God. It’s different with Tally, though. Everything is different with her.”

My mother pulls out an envelope, sliding it in my direction. “Speaking of your ex-fiancée, Charlotte sent this to me. She claimed she didn’t have your address in Florida.”

Christ, another headache I don’t need. “What does she want?”

“I don’t know, dear. I may be a mother, but I’m not that nosey.”

“Yeah, right,” I laugh, tearing open the envelope. The letter is written in Charlotte’s elegant penmanship. That, like everything else about the woman, has been curated to perfection.

Owen,

After so many years, I find it sad that I have no clue where in the world you are. I know that our lives were drifting apart, but I hate that it ended on such an abrupt note. One moment you were there, and the next, you were gone.

There are some things I need to say, and I would like the opportunity to do so. I’ve tried calling and left numerous messages, but I have a suspicion that you’ve blocked my number.

At this point, nothing would surprise me.

At the very least, you should want the ring back. I know that it’s tradition for the jilted bride to keep the diamond when the groom breaks off the engagement, but I’ve no need for such a reminder.

I’ll be in Florida soon, for an undetermined duration. I hope we might get together and chat.

Regards,

Charlotte

“Cold as ever,” I mutter, tossing the letter on the counter.

“She always was the ice queen,” my mother adds.

She’s not wrong. Charlotte is a gorgeous and wealthy socialite, but years of training in the social graces have left her hard and unfeeling. There’s nothing behind the mask.

“Are you going to call her? I doubt she’ll relent until you do.”

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