The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

Me, on the other hand? I’m dying inside.

“Is that really your name, you silly goose?” Jack asks Skipper, a quizzical look on his face.

Skipper nudges my elbow. “Mom, what’s my real name?”

Oh, god. I die inside when I look at his face as he looks down at Skipper. His daughter.

I pull her in front of me like a shield, hands on her shoulders. “Sorry, no one ever calls her by her actual name.” I ruffle her hair, which has come out of the sleek braids she started with. “It’s Harper.”

Harper, the adult, has been one of my best friends since childhood and is my daughter’s godmother. She was there in the delivery room with my mother, and I couldn’t have done it without her.

She’s the sister I always wanted, and it was an honor to name my daughter after her.

“Oh, that’s right!” Skipper giggles, skipping in place on one foot. “I always forget I’m named after Aunt Harper!”

She’s practically shouting, which makes my face flush hotter as people turn their heads in our direction.

Jack stares at her long and hard before he looks back up at me with a wink. “She’s cute. Where’d you find her?”

My teasing shrug holds no enthusiasm. “Oh you know, by the churro stand upstairs.”

“By the churro stand!” Skipper giggles loudly. “Mom, you found me at the hospital!”

Jack looks at me.

Looks down at Skipper.

Back at me, down at Skipper.

She resembles me but not nearly the same way she resembles him—dark hair, dark eyes, dimple in her cheek. You’d have to be blindfolded not to see it.

“We should go,” I weakly say, for lack of anything more intelligent, pulling my—our—daughter’s arms into her sleeves as she squirms like she’s gotten a bucket full of ants dumped down her pants.

Jack only nods, his dark eyes looking back and forth between Skipper and me.

It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking right now. His expression is unreadable, his face a wall of stone.

Jaw clenching.

If he’s doing the mental math, he seems to be on the right track.

Chapter 6

Jack

“I don’t want you to think I’m dating you for the wrong reasons.”

“Why would I think that?”

“Because, Jack, the girls at this school are horrible. Everyone wants to date the athletes, marry them, and become wives of professional athletes. You have no idea how many girls are just here for their M-R-S Degree.”

“M-R-S Degree? What the hell is that?”

“You know, attending school at a Big Ten just to meet a man to marry?”

“Oh, now I get it. Missus Degree, ha-ha.” I give her a quick kiss on the lips. She’s so stinking cute when she’s worried.

My little over-thinker. “That’s not you, Penn. I don’t think you’re a gold digger.” I pause. “And besides, there’s no guarantee that I’m going to get drafted. We may end up broke, living paycheck to paycheck because I can’t find a job after graduation.”

“Please. You’re amazing.”

She’s not wrong. I’m one of the best this school has ever seen, and it’s not me saying that. It’s the media and the press and schools still trying to get me to transfer.

There’s talk about the Heisman trophy.

Agents have already been contacting me, and I’m a sophomore.

Too bad my parents would kill me if I left school my second year to play professionally. What if I end up like Tim Tebow, who everyone thought would be the golden child of the NFL but wound up retiring after three seasons.

“If I go at all.” I pick at my hoodie. “I’m not sure it’s what I want. What if I don’t have what it takes?”

Penelope makes herself busy by folding the few blankets on the couch. “Are you saying you’d rather work a regular job and have a few kids instead?”

“Kids? God no.” I snort. “I mean, no offense to anyone because I do want kids, but not for a few years.”

I remember sounding so adamant then, more passionate than I probably was, but honestly, I wasn’t thinking about kids in those moments. I was thinking about my career. Not school or classes or grades or how I wanted to spend the off-season.

Football was my job and my future.

Penelope was the love of my young life.

I needed nothing else to complicate things. I had too many balls juggling in the air at the same time as it was.

“Mr. Jennings?”

I crack an eyelid to look at the flight attendant staring down at me.

“Can you please stow your tray table? We’re preparing to land.”

Sure. Fine. Whatever.

After putting the tray table up, I rest my head back again and close my eyes. I try to fall asleep for the next twenty minutes, but I only see Penelope behind my eyes.

I haven’t contacted her since yesterday, but she’s not the only one haunting me.

That little girl.

Her daughter.

Penelope’s daughter—the one she found at the churro stand.

The thought brings a smile to my face as I sit here, tired, thinking of everything I have to do when I land—grab the dog from my buddy’s house, order groceries for delivery, send my agent a note to thank him for getting me in touch with Penn. It hadn’t helped to see her. If anything, the dream last night was worse, and there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll dream of her again tonight.