She shook her head. “Frost’s my married name.” You’d have thought she’d admitted to some horrible crime, the way she’d said that. As if she expected him to be upset that she’d kept her ex’s name.
A lot of women did that. For various reasons.
It was just a name.
“Okay.”
Watching him for a second, she seemed to relax. She picked up her roll. And then another. Back to normal.
“So what is your maiden name?” he asked. He was planning to meet her parents at some point. He should know what to call them. Maybe even have their number in case of an
emergency. They knew about him, so there was no reason he shouldn’t have that information. “And do I call them Dr. and Mr. or—”
She’d gone completely white. Looked like she might be sick.
“Tamara? What’s wrong, hon?” He stood, thinking he’d grab a cool cloth.
When she stood, too, he backed away from the table, giving her room to make it to the bathroom. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She just stood there, facing him, looking...horrible.
“My parents are Dr. and Mr. Howard Owens.”
Chapter Seventeen
She hadn’t meant to tell him. Oh, God, she hadn’t meant to tell him. They’d been sitting there, eating sushi and having a great day, and she’d been so aware of the baby, needing to help care for her, and the awful lie had been there between them. He’d called her mother Dr. Frost. Dr. Steve’s-Last-Name.
The lie had been too horrendous to keep to herself.
“Say something,” she said.
He was standing there staring at her, frowning at her, completely confused.
“I... Did you just tell me that Howard Owens, my boss, is your father?”
She’d thought she’d felt every acute stab of pain there was to feel. She’d been wrong. The grip on her heart when she looked at Flint was different than anything she’d ever felt before.
“Yes.” And if, judging by the expression on his face, he was this put out about that part of it, he’d never be able to accept the rest.
She hadn’t expected him to.
“You were working for your father.”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Bill knew that.”
She could almost hear his mind buzzing as he started putting the pieces together. But even Bill didn’t know the whole truth.
“And your father told both of you not to say anything to the rest of the staff.”
“Something like that.” Exactly like that, except that he, in particular, had been singled out not to know.
“So when you interrupted us that first day... You’re the real reason I kept my job. You talked to your father—”
“No!” She shook her head. “I mean, I did say something, but he’d already decided to keep you on. He’d met with you by then. You’d already signed the noncompete agreement.”
“Which you thought was a good idea.”
“I did.”