Page 87 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I shrug. That’s an answer, right?

Apparently, not a good enough answer for my ride or die. “Lu, you need to tell him.”

“Those pregnancy tests aren’t 100% effective.”

“Sure, all of them malfunctioned. Alleightof them.”

She’s got a point, and I don’t have a leg to stand on in this argument. “I’m seeing Owen tonight. He promised me this delicious dinner and a bubble bath.”

“God, I hate you,” Stefani huffs, but she doesn’t mean it. She’s thrilled that I’ve found someone. Now, the trick is keeping him after he discovers he has some potent swimmers.

“He said he had to talk to me about something.”

Stefani claps her hands. “He’s going to propose!”

I shake my head. “Owen is not proposing. I’m not sure what it’s about, but now, we have two topics to discuss.”

“Someone’s getting married,” Stefani sings in an off-key voice, as I lob a hand towel at her head.

I want to ignore her banter, but part of me wonders if he might ask me to marry him. He has been bugging me to move in, so marriage is the next logical step. Right?

Maybe then, the baby wouldn’t be an unwelcome surprise. Resting my hand on my stomach, I realize that for me, this baby is a gift, even if that isn’t the case for Owen.

He swore he wouldn’t run in the opposite direction if I was pregnant. Let’s see if he’s a man of his word.

* * *

Iwander around my apartment for the better part of the afternoon, trying to figure out how to tell Owen about the baby.

Should I act all cutesy, buying a ton of baby vegetables to go with dinner? Pick up a t-shirt that says, World’s Best Dad? Just once, I wish I could pull off sappy, but it’s not in my wheelhouse.

I glance at the clock. It’s just after four. I know he said seven, but I can’t wait any longer. I grab my keys, drop a kiss on Hecate’s head, and bound out the door.

Next stop—Owen.

I send off a quick text, just in case his business meeting ran late.

I hope you’re having a wonderful lunch. I’m coming by early. I need to discuss something with you. It’s important.

20

Owen

Ipull into the bistro parking lot, steering between the Mercedes and Porsche, both idling in the middle of the lane. They’ve decided they need not obey traffic laws.

Rich pricks.

I take a few deep breaths before shutting off the engine. I have no idea what kind of car Charlotte rented, so I can’t be sure if she’s here yet. All Iknow is that I’m dreading this reunion.

Please let it be short and painless.

I knew this meeting was unavoidable because when my ex-fiancée wants something, she’s used to getting it. But now, the stakes are higher. Charlotte is local, not 3,000 miles across the country. Worse, I haven’t spoken to Tally about my ex yet, a fact I plan on rectifying tonight.

I have the evening all planned for my tiny vixen. I even forced myself to leave her naked body at six this morning to get a head start on cooking. I’m Italian, and a good sauce takes all day. Besides, Tally deserves the best.

Underneath my armor of confidence, I’m scared. After plying Tally with food, I’m telling her that her gorgeous ass is moving in with me. I’m done with her flimsy excuses. Then, I’m dropping to one knee and begging her to marry me, preferably before she starts showing.

Maybe then, she’ll fess up, or at least take a damn test.

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