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)
He’s right. I did have my reasons, although suddenly, those reasons seem petty and childish.
But I’ve dug a hole—a deep one—and it seems there is no getting out of it.
I had my chance, and I blew it.
Twice.
I continue whipping the mashed potatoes as my brother watches me.
“I know I was busy when you were in college, and I knew you were dating a football player. But until he showed up on my doorstep, I didn’t put two and two together.” My brother hesitates. “Why was he here?”
“Superstition.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he hasn’t been able to sleep because he’s been dreaming about me, and he wanted to see me to make it stop.”
Davis nods as if that makes total sense. “So what you’re telling me is a man flew all the way here and showed up on my doorstep—looking for you—because he had a few bad dreams?”
“No, I’m telling you he flew here to play in a football game and was multitasking by showing up here.”
He nods slowly, skeptical. “Right.” Then he looks me up and down. “That’s the only reason? What aren’t you telling me?”
Everything.
All of it.
I’m not telling him anything.
“Who is Jack Jennings to you, Penn?” He pauses. “Better yet, who is Jack Jennings to Skipper?”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit. He’s got me there, and there is no getting around this. Jack has already laid eyes on her himself. If he’s a smart man, it won’t take him long to put two and two together, and he’ll be beating down my door for the truth.
“Her father.”
Davis drops the protein bar he had been about to take a bite out of.
It falls to the counter. “Are you fucking serious?”
His voice holds a host of emotions. Surprise. Shock. Outrage.
“Does he know?”
I shake my head.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” My brother stands straight, his face turning red. “You never told him? You never told the man he was a father?”
My mouth hangs open. Davis has never spoken to me in this way. “I was young. I didn’t know any better.”
Excuses, excuses.
He laughs bitterly. “Well, you’re an adult now, and the man was in my house. Did you tell him when you went on your little date last weekend?”
Another shake of my head. “No. But it’s not as easy as you would thi—”
“You are fucking unbelievable.”
My brother heads for the door, leaving me staring after him in shock.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t be around you right now. I’m so disappointed.”
“You’re my brother. You’re supposed to—”
He whips around to face me. “Don’t stand there and tell me I’m supposed to blindly sit by and watch you fuck things up worse than you already have.” Davis inhales a deep breath to deliver his next diatribe. “Not only have you denied Skipper of her father for seven years but you’ve also denied him the baby years, the toddler years. All those milestones. For what? Because you were embarrassed you got pregnant when you were in college? You hid from your friends, you hid it from me until you started showing, and now I find out you hid it from him when all these years, I thought Skipper’s father was some piece of shit burnout who skipped out on you and didn’t deserve either of you.”
I mean—yeah. That’s exactly what I’d done.
But hearing him say it in that tone makes me feel gross and ashamed, as only one’s sibling can make a person feel.
He’s the closest thing I have to a parent. Our dad walked out on us when we were kids, and Mom died a few years back, so it’s just him and me. A few aunts and uncles stay in touch, but not the large, boisterous family we’d always wanted as kids.
Davis keeps going to walk out the front door but stops himself every time, unable to resist lecturing me.
My bottom lip trembles. “I’m going to tell him.”
“Skipper is seven, Penelope—seven! You’ve had seven years to grow a pair of balls. It’s not like the man is hard to find, and he found you without even trying.”
“I know that! Stop yelling at me!”
Davis narrows his eyes. “I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“I’m not trying to gain your sympathy. I just don’t want you to raise your voice.”
“No, you’re deflecting.” He rests his palm on the doorjamb, standing in the doorway. “So what is your plan?”
I don’t have a plan.
Shrugging, I evade the question. “I mean…he’s not in town anymore. I can’t tell the man over the phone.”
“So you get on a plane, and you go tell him in person. I’ll pay for the plane ticket.”
“I don’t have any more personal days at work. If I take off, my boss will fire me.”
“You hate your job.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You have your degree. I don’t.”
“You know what it sounds like to me, Penelope? You don’t want to tell Jack Jennings he has a daughter because it’s hard. Because it’s embarrassing because you waited so long. And sure, he will probably take you to court.” He says it so matter-of-factly that it takes me off guard.