Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Court?
I hadn’t thought of that.
Like. At all.
“Wait. What?”
Davis rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “You honestly haven’t thought about that? Once he finds out he has a child that you’ve been keeping from him, he’ll probably take you to court for some kind of visitation. Unless he’s a total bag of crap, which I highly doubt. A man who doesn’t care would never show up at an ex-girlfriend’s home out of the blue unless he gave a shit about her, and from the looks of it, Jack Jennings still has feelings for you. This is going to gut him.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You want me to be honest? Or should I lie to you?”
The way I’ve been lying to myself? Yes, I’ll take some of that, please. It makes it easier to sleep at night.
“This is a mess, Penelope.”
A giant mess. “Yes, I know.”
I’m trying not to pout. I am a mother, for heaven’s sake. Best leave the pouting to the child.
But it’s hard.
Facing this issue of my own doing is difficult. Taking accountability is something I have faced, but only to myself. Over the years, my brother has stopped asking about who Harper’s father is, making assumptions and scenarios I’ve been all too happy to let him run with.
The truth came knocking, and Davis didn’t like what he saw. Only…he discovered I was the problem.
He discovered what a coward I am.
The lies.
Skipper’s dad isn’t a loser. A creep.
A dead-beat.
He is a successful, nice, funny, and famous athlete who still thinks highly enough of me that he sought me out for dinner and drinks.
I didn’t want him in my life, not the other way around.
Shame on me.
Shame.
On.
Me.
“Seems like you have a lot of thinking to do. I’ll take Skipper tonight so you can have some time alone. And I don’t want to give you any ultimatums, Penn, but if I were him…and I found out…I would be devastated. I’m a family man and want kids, and maybe he did too.”
I shake my head. “But he didn’t.”
“Penelope, seven years ago, he was a boy, so of course he didn’t want kids. He was in college, for Christ’s sake.”
That’s another thing I had reconciled myself to over the years as I grew up. Perhaps he’d spoken in the moment, and I’d taken him literally. I realized this only after becoming a mother, which turned me into an adult overnight.
At that point, it was too late.
The damage was done.
Skipper had been born, and the only thing I could do to honor him was give her his nickname because I wouldn’t give her his last. In a perfect world, she would be Harper Rose Jennings, not Harper Rose Halbrook, though I always thought both had a beautiful ring to them.
Once I have my daughter settled at Davis’s—he has toys and snacks at his place already, forever the world’s best uncle—I return home, only to wander the house, restless and sad.
Guilt-ridden.
It eats away at me as nighttime falls, and the darkness only has me pacing more.
I cry in the kitchen.
I cry in the shower.
I cry while putting on my pajamas and while I’m shoveling ice cream into my mouth, alone on the couch.
What have I done?
If I could go back and do it all over again, I would have told Jack about my pregnancy. But at the time, I didn’t know how. I thought it would break his heart and ruin his career.
I thought he would think I did it on purpose to trap him.
Gold digger.
Cleat chaser.
Wanted out of school by way of the Mrs. Degree.
It was such a hard secret to keep, one of the only true burdens I’ve ever felt in my life.
Guilt plagued me then, and it plagues me still, much more so now than had Jack never shown up to find me.
He did, and there is no going back.
This was a sign from the universe.
Now what do I do about it? I have a few options:
Show up on his doorstep and tell him in person.
Text him.
Video Chat.
That’s it. Those are my options, and the second two feel cheap and like a cop-out, except…I can’t exactly afford to hop on a plane to Colorado, get a hotel, and pay for food just to tell a man he’s a father.
Then again. It would be a small price to pay for my sins.
All three options leave me feeling nauseous.
Head in my hands, I bury my face, tears flowing once more. With my heavy heart, I’m loudly sobbing. I’ve never been a cute crier, even if it’s simply at the movies or tears of joy. My nose always turns red, my eyes always get puffy, and the snot always runs.
So gross.
I’m miserable.
I’m glad I am alone to wallow—it serves me right.
The next day, I’m still unsure of what to do or how to proceed. I spend most of Sunday clicking away on the keyboard, researching airfare to Colorado. Checking and double-checking my savings account and credit card balances for the extra cash, so I don’t have to burden my brother. Skipper has come and gone between our houses several times, and now that I’ve laid eyes on her father, I cannot stop seeing him in her eyes. Every feature she possesses belongs to Jack Jennings.