Page 75 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“Okay.” With a last kiss, she shoos me back, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Good to her word, she texts when she arrives home.

I’m not pregnant. Stop worrying.

I chuckle to myself, tossing the phone on my nightstand. “I’m not worried, Darlin. Just some wishful thinking.”

17

Tally

Owen and I don’t see each other for the next few days, although we speak multiple times on the phone. He isn’t happy about the separation, but this time, it’s not out of anger, but necessity.

His mother is only in town for a short time. They need to spend quality time together.

Me? I’m busy helping Beth at the shelter, in between visiting my father and throwing up at least twice a day.

Owen’s inquiry about me being pregnant is never far from my mind, and now that I’m a week late, I have the sneaking suspicion he’s right. Granted, with the upheaval of the last month, anything is possible. All my body systems may be on hiatus, or strike, or whatever.

It’s probably nothing.

You should take a test.

Brain, sit down, and shut up. You’re not helping the situation.

The ongoing debate in my head continues, as it has for the last seventy-two hours. My brain will win, but my delusional self isn’t going down without a fight.

But that’s an argument for another day. Today is about staff call-outs and uncooperative patients—the joys of nursing.

Yay, me.

Owen’s muttered curse floats over to my seat at the nurses station, and I swivel in my chair. We offer pleasantries at work, but it’s getting increasingly difficult. Hey, I deserve some credit. It’s damn near impossible to act nonchalant around the man I want to jump 24/7. I think our ruse is working, too. Unless Dr. Empreso, aka Dr. Sleaze, starts flapping his gums.

“Stupid thing.”

I bite back a laugh before strolling over to Owen’s chair. I lean over, taking control of the mouse. “We have an ongoing joke that this computer is possessed by the ghosts of patients past. It’s not just you.”

“Is that a fact?” Owen catches my gaze, his finger sliding along mine in the slightest of caresses. “You smell good.”

The man is becoming more brazen at work, but I don’t mind the affection. I think it’s time to call us what we are—in love.

“I’m not wearing anything, Owen.”

“On the contrary, you’re wearingwaytoo much.”

I try to play it off, but he knows me too well. “Behave.”

“I’m sick of behaving. I want to see you tonight.”

With a final click, the computer is once again cooperating. “There you go, handsome.” I wink at him, throwing in an extra hip shake for kicks. I know he’s watching me walk away. My only hope? I’m making him as hot and bothered as he makes me.

All’s fair in love.

I’m not two minutes into my coffee break, hoping that Owen will sneak in for some playtime when I hear the dreaded announcement.

There are two words that every nurse and doctor know—and hate.

“Code Blue, room 410. Code Blue, room 410,” the voice sounds over the loudspeaker.

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