“I wanted better for you than I had. Getting a divorce took every ounce of energy and will I possessed. I cried and doubted. The guilt . . .” Gabby wondered if the guilt would ever subside. Just when she thought she’d conquered it and moved on, it knocked her over again. “You wanted to know about the grown-up decisions and grown-up mess, and I’m telling you.”

Kennedy sighed. “Now what? What about Uncle Liam? Do I tell people? Do I call him ‘uncle’ . . . or ‘dad’?”

So many questions and not a single good answer. Gabby thought that described parenthood well. “I really did screw this up for you, didn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kennedy folded her arms in front of her and relaxed back into the stack of pillows behind her. “Are you still in love with Uncle Liam?”

Gabby wasn’t touching that. Time to pivot. “I love him. Always have. But the real point is that the two of you need to figure out what you are to each other and what to call your relationship. I won’t get in the way of that.”

“You’re okay if everyone knows you slept with both brothers?”

Oh, damn. Not even a little. Fellow mothers could be brutal even without that fodder. She hated to think what they’d do with that bit of juicy gossip.

But she didn’t have any choice here. Kennedy came first. “No, but I’ll survive.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jessa

Jessa sat on the middle of the couch in Faith’s living room and waited for something to happen. Something big. She had no idea what or how, but Retta had left her with the impression the downward spiral her life had taken was about to change.

That was three days ago. Seventy-two hours of nothing.

The ethics complaint against her had been filed. Darren and his attorney requested her formal removal from the case. The only message from Covington came yesterday and related to the firm’s cell phone. She needed to return it within two days. Tim . . . well, she didn’t really care about Tim. The second he dumped her, all those big feelings she had for him shifted from sadness to seething anger in record time.

Jessa took another sip of wine. At this rate, she’d demolish the bottle before lunch.

Her office cell buzzed. She thought about throwing it through the window but guessed Faith would not appreciate the replacement cost on top of having a nonpaying unwanted roommate.

The cell buzzed a second time.

“What?” she screamed into the empty condo.

When she looked at the screen, she regretted she hadn’t started drinking even earlier. Covington reminding her about office property. Come in tomorrow at ten. Now he didn’t just want the phone back, he wanted it in the morning.

Fine. Whatever.