The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

“We have a daughter. He already knows we were up to no good.”

“Seven years ago.” I move for the door again, but he pulls me back. Again.

“Which means we have a lot of catching up to do. And I have a plane to catch at the ass crack of dawn, so this is the only time we’re going to have alone.”

“You’re leaving tonight?”

“Yeah—I have a meeting in the morning with my agent about some endorsement deals. It was at ten, but I pushed it back to noon so I wouldn’t look like I had a hangover.”

“You’re only here…what. Five hours?” I’m horrible at math and don’t try to figure out the numbers, but five hours sounds about right.

“Landed an hour ago, fucked around at the rental car place, concert, fly out at…” He checks the watch on his wrist. I’m almost positive it’s a Rolex, one of those watches that cost thousands of dollars and not an Apple Watch like so many people wear these days.

I have neither.

“Four thirty.” We both pull faces.

Kiss again. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. And I wanted to do it when we had more time and weren’t rushed, but I can’t wait anymore, Penn. It’s driving me nuts.”

“Oh god, this doesn’t sound good.”

He has one of my hands in his and kisses the knuckles. “It is or it isn’t, depending on how you look at it.”

The phone in my back pocket pings, and it can only be one person: my brother, checking to see where I’m at, probably wondering if I’ve been abducted or stolen.

I try to pull away, nervous, not wanting to hear whatever it is he has to say because it scares me.

“Penn. Wait. I’m serious.”

I relax back into the seat. “Jack, just say it.”

Tell me it’s over.

Tell me you’re taking me to court.

Tell me you want fifty fifty custody.

Tell me…

“I want you to consider moving in with me.” He inhales a deep breath. “I know it’s a huge ask and something you obviously have to put some serious thought into, but I want to be with you. At least for the season, I have so many months left, and it’s only going to get worse as we get closer to the playoffs and the Super Bowl.”

He wants me to move in with him. “Me?”

Jack laughs. “You and Skipper, silly.” He boops me on the tip of the nose but I can see that he’s as nervous now as I am.

“You want me to move?”

He nods solemnly. “Well, for at least half the year. I don’t know how you feel going back and forth, but Skipper is still young she might see it as more of an adventure than we do.”

Move. He wants me—us—to move in with him. To Colorado.

That’s hundreds of miles away!

“Can you tell me you haven’t thought about it?”

Have I? I’m not sure it’s crossed my mind, too busy was I considering the other logistics; him flying back and forth, only seeing him a few times a month, how it might be impossible to continue this way.

Move in with him.

I mean—what will Davis say?

Does it even matter what my brother thinks?

Of course it does, I include him in all my decisions and this certainly affects him..

But who is most important here? You, Jack, and Skipper? Or your brother and his opinion of the situation?

“Shut your brain off for a second,” Jack tells me, staring hard. “Relax.”

I can’t relax. The words are out there and they’re going to be on my mind until I make a decision.

How long have we been sitting in this car talking? Five minutes? Fifteen?

Twenty?

Shit!

“Let’s go!” I urge, desperate to get out of the car and into the fresh air. “The concert starts in fifteen minutes.”

As we’re walking across the parking lot, Jack takes my hand; holds the door open for me when we reach it, puts his hand on the small of my back as we walk into the auditorium and find our seats.

My brother is taller than most men; Jack is too, so he’s easy to locate toward the middle row, even easier because his hawk eyes seek me out. His hand goes in the air to wave when we make eye contact.

His fingers do the ‘over here’ motion.

Once we’re seated and Jack make pleasantries with Davis and Juliet, telling them hello, asking how they’ve been, we settle into our seats to the quiet voices of the people around us. The hushed whispers, the speculation.

“Is that Jack Jennings?”

“No, it can’t be.” Pause. “Sure looks like him though.”

I stare straight ahead, dying to look behind me to see who’s talking—maybe they’ll stop.

It’s worse than the movies and these are grown-ups!

He wants me to move in with him. Move!

To Colorado.

“Babe, here they come.” Jack takes my hand again and squeezes my fingers as the risers on stage begin filling with students, the little ones, starting with kindergarten.