The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

Sounds about right.

“Skipper has the garage code to Davis’s place, and the first night his girlfriend stopped over, guess who was patrolling the yard? His niece. Sequesters the poor woman outside, gives her the third degree, wants to know what her name is, where she’s from, and does she like brownies.”

“Oh, so the important stuff!”

“That child loves baking, but damn, it’s such a mess.”

“I have put the kibosh on baking and slime.”

Oh my god, slime. “Slime isn’t allowed in my house anymore or glitter. I had so much glitter on me once I looked like I’d taken a bath at the strip club. Couldn’t get it out of my scalp or off my skin, just terrible.”

Lana and I are laughing and sharing stories as the game plays on in front of us. Her declaration of leaving early fizzles with every move executed. Every point scored. Every penalty.

“How long have you and Jack been together?” She finally gets around to asking, politely refraining from asking anything too personal until we’ve laid some groundwork.

“Actually”—I clear my throat—“we dated in college for two years.”

“College!” She twists her body to face me. “Robb and I met in college.” She moves closer. “Okay, confession time. I never wanted to go to college. I just wanted to get married and have a family and be a mom. The same way my mom was, you know? So I basically used college as a way to meet my future husband. How terrible is that?”

The Mrs. Degree.

“Not terrible at all. I knew plenty of girls who just wanted to get married and have kids.”

“I know, but people judge, especially when it turns out you end up dating football players. I didn’t plan that part, I swear.” She holds up three fingers in Scout’s Honor.

Oh, yeah? Bet I can one-up that one.

Confession Time: I managed to get pregnant while I was dating a football player, dropped out, didn’t tell him, then had to watch him on national television for seven years until one night he showed up at my doorstep and shocked the hell out of me.

I wonder what Lana would say to that little factoid.

She’d probably spit out the beer she just ordered.

“So you met in college…?” she hedges, urging me to go on, watching intently.

“We met in college and dated for two years. I didn’t stay and didn’t finish. That’s one of my biggest regrets.”

“Not staying with Jack or not finishing school?”

“Both.”

Lana is quiet for a few seconds, doing the mental math in her head. I can see it in her eyes, the calculating ticking of the time continuum, subtracting what she guesses my age to be, back seven years.

She and I both know there’s more to the story than I’m letting on.

“Why didn’t you finish?”

The moment of truth.

I can either lie to her face and wind up looking like a fool when Jack announces to the public that he has a child—a first grader—or I can tell her now the reason I didn’t finish my degree and graduate.

“I got pregnant.” I pause. “I wasn’t in a space at the time when I was tough enough to stick it out and see it through. I wasn’t strong enough to stay on campus while I was pregnant and go to my classes with a baby bump. So I dropped out.”

Lana nods, speaking slowly. “I remember what girls were like back then, especially if you were dating an athlete. Cruel from jealousy. You must have known then that he was going to the pros.”

“Yes, we knew. Or we’d definitely been talking about it. He had gotten himself an agent, and it all went so fast.” My hands make a globe over my belly, pantomiming pregnant. “And then…”

She makes a humming sound. “I probably would have done the same thing.”

“Anyway, to answer the rest of your question, Jack and I reconnected almost three weeks ago, so our reunion wasn’t that long ago. We’re still getting to know each other again.”

“But you still had the spark?”

I smile. “We still had the spark.”

Lana shifts in her seat, edging closer, encroaching on my space as if we’ve been friends for years, and she wants to share a confidence. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.” I don’t sound sure. I sound scared. Ha!

“Does Jack know?”

“That I got pregnant?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Yes, he knows.”

“Is he…?” Lana sits back upright. “I mean, I saw your daughter, and there was no mistaking the resemblance. Robb wouldn’t shut up about it once he got home that night. He said, ‘Lana,’” Lana deepens her voice. “Lana, did you see that kid? Jack’s got himself a fuckin’ daughter.”

“Oh god.” I facepalm myself, feeling my face get flush. “Yeah, he has himself a daughter.”

“Holy shit. Does anyone know?” She scoffs. “I mean, of course no one knows, or it would be all over the news. Damn girl, buckle up because the ride is about to get real bumpy.” She covers her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Yes, it’s going to suck, probably for a solid week, but then some other news will come along, and the worst will be over, along with the prying eyes and the requests for interviews.” She pauses. “And they’ll follow you, of course. Probably show up at your daughter’s school to try to get photos. It’ll be a real circus. I fucking hate the press.”