The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

She pats me on the hand. “Jack and Elias will take care of it. Once Jack is ready to share the news, there will be a whole media plan. I wouldn’t worry, but I would try to prepare.”

“Have you ever had to deal with anything like that?”

Lana laughs so loud that a few people around us turn to stare. “Are you kidding me? Oh, god. Three years ago, right after Peaches was born, there were rumors that Robb stepped out on me.”

“Stepped out on you?”

“Cheated.” She plucks at some pilling on her Colorado sweater. “It wasn’t true, but that didn’t stop the media frenzy. Those bastards camped out outside the house, called my phone, showed up at the grocery store—so thirsty for a story it almost destroyed us. That sometimes happens, especially when they travel and we’re not with them. Groupies try to sink their claws into our men. It’s disgusting, but if a man wants to stray—” She points at the football field. “There’s the door. I hope she gives better oral than I do, fucker.”

Whoa, the mouth on Lana.

“All I’m saying is, she better be worth it, and most of the time, they’re not. And trust me, we’ve seen it all.” She motions to the group of women sitting around us. “Some of these women have gone through some really hard times. That’s why we have to stick together, and why we’re so leery of new women entering the circle. We’re a family.”

It makes sense.

And fills me with hope.

“Jack is older and wiser. He’s no rookie, so his head won’t be turned by giant boobs and silicone lips.” Lana purses hers. “If he even went through that phase, it was probably years ago.”

The thought of him going through a phase where he slept around with random women suddenly fills me with jealousy. It had never crossed my mind; I’ve always been consumed with my own issues and my own problems to have considered he had a life after I left.

Maybe he drowned his misery in alcohol. Maybe he slept with half the female population at school.

Maybe he, maybe he, maybe he…

All the possibilities swirl through my head. Lana sips on her beer, oblivious to everything weighing on my mind. She has no way of knowing that Jack only found out three weeks ago he was a father. No way of knowing I lied to him for seven years. No way of knowing how remarkable he has been or how forgiving when I undoubtably do not deserve it.

Back at the hotel, I tell Jack about the conversation when he sits at the foot of the bed, removing his shoes and pulling me over to sit on his lap.

I wrap my arms around his neck, wanting him to see that I’m at ease with him. I want to find that flirty, youthful side of myself again that I might have lost while busying myself with becoming a mother.

I did myself no favors by not dating when Skipper was growing up. But I suppose the universe had a plan for me, and that plan was to wait for Jack Jennings to reappear.

And he did.

“Lana Macenroy, hey?” Jack rubs my back. “I like her. She’s funny.”

I play with his hair. It’s damp from the shower he obviously took at the stadium before returning to the hotel. “She doesn’t seem too worried about the media. She thinks it’ll be a solid week of being stalked, but at that point, the excitement will fizzle out, and the press will move on to something more exciting.”

“Something more exciting than us?” He gasps. “What could possibly be more exciting than us?”

“I don’t know. What’s more exciting than ponies and brownies made by a seven-year-old that sometimes contain glitter—and not the edible kind?”

Jack laughs at that. “Sounds pretty damn good to me. The perfect life, actually.”

“There is no such thing as the perfect life.” I find myself stating the obvious, despite not wanting to be a downer.

“There may not be a perfect textbook life, but I have an ideal life in mind—a goal for myself and my future family that I would say I’m damn near close to getting.” He’s still rubbing my back, running a large palm up and down my spine; it’s soothing and reassuring and feels amazing. “Did you talk to anyone else today?”

He changes the subject away from us, and I let him.

“There were a few people who introduced themselves once the game was over. A fiancée named Portia—she was nice but was totally checking me out. I don’t think I was fancy enough for her, but she was pleasant enough. And a Beth Cartwright? She had her son along. A few of them were going to Disney tomorrow or visiting friends and family.”

“Yeah, they do that sometimes, depending on where we’re at. It’s a good way to multitask. We spend more time together in the off-season, though because it’s easier. And we’re all so fucking tired, so no one wants to play host unless it’s summer and we can shoot the shit and lay around.” He pauses. “But I have a condo and no one fits in it.”