The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

Drinks?

“What on earth is going on in here?”

Juliet walks over with a champagne flute filled with bubbly orange liquid, handing it to me.

“Here, we thought you might need this after last night.”

“Really, Davis, Bloody Marys and mimosas?” I hop up onto the barstool, pulling my hair into a ponytail and looping the rubber band around twice before leaning forward. “I’m changing the code on the garage door.”

He points his spatula toward his girlfriend, Juliet, who shrugs. “Hey, don’t blame me. It was her idea.”

“Listen, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a breakfast spread like this.”

“Okay, but it’s Monday, and I have to leave for work in an hour.”

My boss is not going to love the bags under my eyes.

“Lucky for you, I have nowhere to be, and she took a vacation day.” He nods his head toward his girlfriend, who sits sipping her mimosa innocently while my brother drinks his Bloody Mary.

Ugh—I hate those things. Tomato juice has never been my thing. Once, when I was younger, I was on a plane to visit our father—the one and only time I ever went to see him after he left us—and decided a tomato juice was what I wanted to drink. I spilled it all over my lap, my new blue dress, and white tights.

Sad, sad day.

“So we noticed Jack’s car was still here after everyone left last night.”

If my brother is trying to be subtle, he is failing miserably. The raised eyebrows and the fact that he’s trying not to look at me when he asks the question are dead giveaways that he’s being nosy.

“How did you know which car was his?”

“Only one with a Texas plate. Total rental car.”

Dang, he’s good.

“You should become a private investigator,” I sarcastically say, plucking a piece of bacon off the platter he’s set on the counter. It’s so good I close my eyes when my mouth closes around it.

Nom.

“That bacon is for the Bloodys,” he complains.

I snort. “Three pounds of bacon for your breakfast cocktails?”

“Washes down better.”

“Anyway. I might as well tell you that…” I hesitate, not sure how I’m going to word this. “Well. I’ll just say it. Jack invited me to Colorado to spend a weekend with him. He wants…”

Davis and Juliet listen, hanging on my every word.

“He wants…to…um. Get to know me?”

“He wants to get to know you? I thought he knew you already. You have a kid.”

“You know what I mean. He wants me to be a part of his family, and he wants”—I shrug—“to show me where he lives.”

“Why does he want to show you where he lives?” Davis’s brows are now firmly rooted into his hairline. Juliet smacks him in the arm so he’ll stop talking and let me finish, but he cannot stop himself from interjecting. “He’s not planning on moving you to Colorado, is he?”

I hadn’t considered that. “No. Of course not.”

I laugh it off, but a part of me isn’t so sure. Jack seems hell-bent on reconnecting. He’s already spent time with me twice in a matter of two weeks. It’s clear he’s sacrificing his time and his insanely busy schedule, and now it’s my turn to return the favor.

“So what are you saying, Penelope?”

Davis isn’t going to make this easy.

“I’m saying I should go. I don’t want to take off work, but I feel it’s important that I go. It’s the olive branch I need to make things right.”

“Because you lied to us and didn’t tell him he was Skipper’s father.” My brother throws the gauntlet down as only big brothers can do. “When do you plan on telling her? When she’s thirty?”

“Whoa, babe. That’s not fair,” Juliet says with a horrified look on her face.

Davis takes a few breaths.

Okay. Yes.

I know I hurt and pissed him off too, and I’ve only apologized to Jack, not my brother, for keeping it from him. None of it is fair.

All of it is true.

“He’s not wrong.” I take a deep, steadying breath. “You’re right. I’ve done everything in the wrong order. But it’s not too late to start over.”

“Actually, yes, it is. Your daughter is seven. There’s no turning back the hands of time.”

“I get why you’re upset, Davis, and it’s a lot to ask for you to keep supporting me, but you’re the only one I have right now.” Wait. “Shit, that came out all wrong. I’m not trying to put a guilt trip on you. That’s not at all what I meant. Shit.”

No amount of alcohol first thing in the morning can cure this headache I have.

The more I speak, the worse I seem to make it, so I zip my lips and stay quiet, letting him process my words. Juliet’s hands are on his shoulders, kneading them as she smiles at me. A kind, encouraging smile.

My brother runs a hand through his hair. “I know, Penn, I know. It’s a lot to process, and I’m not even the one in the situation. But it kind of feels like a gut punch because I hadn’t known who her dad was either, and I’m still processing all the information. That doesn’t change anything, though. I’m here for you and whatever you need.”