Page 91 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I open the door to the condo, waving her inside. “I need to take a shower.”

Charlotte nods, her gaze on the view of the ocean from the living room window. “This is a nice place. Bigger than I expected.”

“Dollar goes further down here. It’s way smaller than our apartment in San Francisco. Granted, you owned the building.”

“True, but this is nice. You chose well.”

I smile. “Tally chose it.”

“Does she live here?”

Hopefully, after tonight, she will.

I’m not in the mood to poke the bear. It will lead to more questions, and that will suck up more time. “No, but she came with me to look at the condos. She likes the rooftop garden.”

Charlotte seems to ease after learning Tally doesn’t reside in the condo. She even manages a second smile. “Smart choice. She must be a smart girl.”

“Very.” I wave around the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I pause in the hallway, turning back to face my ex. “I do have very important plans tonight. This can’t take long.”

“Owen, I heard you the first, second, and third time. I’ll bring up all the details on my laptop, and they’ll be ready for your perusal once you’re done in the shower.”

“Fair enough,” I mutter, hoping she will stick to her word.

21

Tally

Why is it that when you’re in a hurry, the elevator moves at a snail’s pace? I saw Owen’s car in his parking space. He’s home, and hopefully he won’t have a meltdown when I share my news.

I ride to the top floor, a small smile playing on my lips. Now that I’ve had a few hours to get used to the idea, I’m excited. Who knew that one day I would become a mom?

I knock on the door, my curiosity piqued when I hear the familiar clacking of high heels across the floor inside. When the door opens, every sense goes on high alert.

Breathe, Tally. Maybe this woman—this drop-dead beautiful woman—is a realtor or doctor or cleaning lady.

Judging by her finely tailored duds, she’s definitely not the latter. In fact, I wager her outfit is worth more than my entire wardrobe.

The woman possesses an exotic beauty that is breathtaking. She’s already tall, made taller by her four-inch designer shoes, and willowy as a sapling. Her dark hair falls in waves around a picture perfect face, with bright green eyes and caramel hued skin that I would kill to have.

I shift uncomfortably as she peers down at me, acutely aware of my ripped jeans, Iggy Pop t-shirt, glasses and fedora.

“Can I help you?” she inquires, her hand resting on the door, her eyes narrowing in my direction.

“I’m here to see Owen.”

“And you are?”

Who the hell is this? His new bodyguard? “I’m Tally. I saw his car in the lot, so I know he’s here.”

Her pupils dilate, but beyond that, her features are unreadable. “Tally, huh?” She gestures into the apartment. “Come in. Owen will be right out. He’s in the shower.”

I spin on my heel, my eyes bulging at her statement. “He’s in the shower?”

“Yes, a server spilled coffee on him.”

I release the breath I’m holding, willing my heart to settle.

See, Tally? Totally innocent.

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