The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

I think we should tell her.

They’re the words I’ve wanted for over a month, but the same ones I’ve feared, both at the same time.

“You do?”

She nods enthusiastically, still running her fingers over my chest, tracing the muscles there. The valley between my pecs. My clavicle and shoulder blades.

“Yes, Jack. If you’re ready, I think we should tell her.” Penn lets out a content sigh. “She’s spent quite a bit of time with you, so even though it’s only been a few weeks, I don’t think we should let it go much longer. She’s comfortable with you, and she asks about you when you’re not here.” Another sigh. “I don’t want her to think you’re just my boyfriend. She’s going to ask pretty soon, and when she does, I don’t want to lie and say yes when that’s not the case.”

“You don’t consider me your boyfriend?”

Penelope laughs. “Of course I consider you my boyfriend. My point was that’s what you are to her and that’s not the reason you’re back in my life.” She pauses. “Did that come out wrong?”

“I know what you meant.”

“Good.” She nods, resuming her exploration of my front side. “She needs to know. I’m starting to feel like we’re keeping this big secret, and it feels like we’re lying, and I hate it.”

Same. “No, you’re absolutely right.” I’m still digesting the words. “How?”

She rolls away from me and stares up at the ceiling. “At breakfast tomorrow? We’ll make it a feast, and I’ll explain to her how you and I met and go from there.”

“You think it will be that easy?”

Her mouth contorts. “I don’t think it will be easy for us, no. But I think she’ll be excited and that’s what’s important. But…” Penelope clears her throat. “Once we tell her, she’ll want to be with you all the time.”

I go still.

Penelope keeps going. “I love being with you, Jack. I think the universe put you back in my life for a reason, and the last thing I want is to lose you again.”

“You’re not. You won’t.”

She shakes her head as if she knew she hadn’t chosen the right words to explain herself and starts over.

“I love being with you, and I think you’re right. We need to look forward and spend more time together, and I think our daughter deserves both of us as often as we can be there for her. And…”

I hold my breath.

“…and…” She gulps. “I want to try. I’m willing to move to Colorado for the season so we can be with you there.”

What is she saying? “What are you saying?”

“That we’ll move in with you.”

“Not in a condo? ’Cause I can get you a condo—maybe even in the same building or an apartment. A nice one, not a shithole. Whatever you want, Penn,” I ramble on. “Or a house. You don’t have to live with me. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I—”

“Babe. Jack.” She puts a finger over my lips to shush me. “No. I don’t want a condo or an apartment or a house of my own. We’ve been alone long enough. Skipper has lived without you long enough. Davis is great, but he’s not her dad—you are. I want her to know what it’s like growing up with you. Me. Us. Together.”

All this information is a hell of a lot to take in.

First, she tells me she wants us to tell Skipper in the morning that I’m her dad, and now she’s giving me the green light on moving in together.

Holy shit.

Am I dreaming? Because if my heart hasn’t just stopped beating from shock, my name isn’t Jack Jennings.

I reach for her but am almost too afraid to touch her. “Seriously?”

She nods her head, biting down on her bottom lip. “Yes.”

Yes.

No prettier word has there ever been in the human language than Y-E-S.

“Are you sure, because—”

Penelope laughs, rolling toward me again. “Oh, so now you’re going to try to talk me out of it? It was your idea to begin with.”

I laugh, too, the giddy, nervous kind you belt out when you’re high on adrenaline. It sounds almost manic, even to my own ears.

“Jesus, why do I feel so insecure all of a sudden?” I muse out loud, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. Her nails are light pink, the same color she used to paint them in college.

“I feel to blame for that. It’s partly my fault. I’ve been wishy-washy and scared of my own shadow when it comes to you, but I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m a grown woman, and this is my choice. You are my choice.”

You are my choice.

“You are mine. You and Skipper.” Short of declaring my love for her, this feels a lot like that. The feeling, the butterflies in my stomach of certainty. It feels very heavy but also as if a weight were lifted off my shoulders.