Page 72 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I release a resigned sigh. “Charlotte is used to getting what she wants in life.”

“And now, she wants you back.” It’s my mother’s turn to sigh. “You aren’t considering reconciliation, are you? It’s your life, but—”

I pull my mother into a hug, chuckling at her horrified expression. “Don’t worry, Mom. No such intentions.”

“Good. I like Tally.”

“I love her.”

Her hand cups my face as she kisses my cheek. “I know. It’s written all over you.”

* * *

Tally insists on meeting us at the restaurant. She claims she has to run by the women’s shelter, but I know it’s a load of crap. She’s still hesitant about the idea of us together in public. I have no idea what her ex did to her, but it certainly screwed with her head.

Now, I’m paying the price. Not that it matters. She’s worth it.

Despite our shaky relationship status, this dinner is far more relaxed than the first one—at least for me. Tally looks as if she’s about to lose her lunch.

“Darlin, are you okay?” I lean over, giving her a reassuring back rub.

Tally offers a small smile. “I’m sorry. My stomach hasn’t been great for the last few days.”

“I think I have something for that.” My mother digs into her suitcase of a purse, pulling out some antacid. “Here you are, my dear. I know you don’t feel well, but you look beautiful. You’re glowing.”

My mother’s words hit like a fist as my gaze returns to Tally.

Sheisglowing. The woman is always beautiful, but lately, she’s had this ethereal quality about her.

She’s pregnant.

The thought hits hard and fast. I wait for the internal freakout, but it never arrives. Instead, I smile at the idea of my tiny vixen carrying my child.

“Hey, try not to look so happy about my nausea,” Tally teases, grabbing a roll from the basket.

I surprise her with a kiss to that gorgeous mouth. “I’m smiling because my mother is right; you look beautiful.”

She chuckles, waving her hand—and the compliment—off, but I see the slight bloom across her cheeks.

“Tally, I noticed that you haven’t moved into the condo yet.”

Thanks, Mom. Nothing like prodding an already agitated woman.

“There was a change of plans,” Tally murmurs, her eyes focused on the butter dish.

“You mean my son neglecting to tell you he’s a doctor?” She pats Tally’s hand, sending her a reassuring smile. “I disapproved of Owen keeping the truth from you. I knew it was a bad idea, but he is a good man, and I’m glad you forgave him.”

Not so certain about that, Mom.

Why do I take part in these dinners? Without fail, they veer into uncomfortable territory before the appetizers hit the table.

Tally sets down her roll and butter knife, her smile wavering. I’m not sure if it’s her nausea or anger at my mother’s assumptions, but I’m praying it’s the first. The last thing I need is Tally mad at me. Again. “I guess to most people, it makes little sense. Owen is the complete package. I told him on our first date that they broke the mold after him. I still stand by that assertion.” She rubs her brow, and I clasp her free hand, trying to offer whatever reassurance I can. “My reasoning sounds so silly when I say it aloud. Doesn’t it?”

“No, dear. He betrayed your trust, and trust is a valuable commodity. I know you have issues trusting people, and his betrayal only cemented that concept. But, in Owen’s defense, I need to say one thing. This man loves you more than I’ve ever seen him love anyone.”

Usually, I would be mortified at my mother’s public declaration. This time, I hope that her statement resonates with Tally, driving my words home to her heart.

I miss her, the Tally I met that night at Wicked Chucks. I fell immediately. She was everything—beautiful, smart, sarcastic, funny as hell. Crazy about me, too. This version of Tally is hesitant, uncertain, her heart surrounded by a thick wall to prevent any additional pain.

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