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“Alma caught me and her sister kissing. While our daughter was in the room. So she knows I know about Penelope.”
Whitley grinned. “I like a good challenge.”
“In this case, I wanted a cakewalk.” I slung my briefcase on my desk. “Where are we with the judge?”
“We’re set to meet with her in”—he checked his watch—“three hours.”
Nine a.m.
“Marlow let you out of the house this early?” I sat in my chair and spun it in his direction.
“She kicked me out. When she’s pregnant, she hates me sometimes.”
His news was a kick to the gut. He’d hinted at that in our conversation the other night. I was blatantly jealous. “You’re having another kid? So soon?”
He smirked. “She can’t keep her hands off me.”
“Can we get to work?” I shoved my glasses up on my nose.
“You asked.” He wadded up a piece of paper and tossed it at me. “How are you making it so far? Has being a father sunk in yet?”
“He’s not doing bad.” Penelope floated in, giant tote bag in hand.
She needs a briefcase.
Whitley gaped.
“Meet my daughter, Penelope.” I stood and rounded the desk to kiss her cheek. “Penelope, this is Patrick Whitley, a pain in my ass.”
She kissed my cheek back before crossing to Whitley. With a grace that reminded me of JoJo, she extended her hand.
He looked dumbstruck as he shook hands. “Pleasure.” He gestured to the seat across from him, then glanced at me. “No way is that your daughter. You’re too ugly to have made someone so beautiful.”
My chest puffed up. Penelope was stunning . . . and obviously took after me.
“I’ll remember that when your daughter gets older.”
He glared. “You’re going to ruin her.” He turned a charming smile on for Penelope. “Don’t let him corrupt you.”
“I won’t. Now where are we with the proceedings?” She pulled a tablet out of her bag.
“So she is your daughter.” And he focused on his legal pad. “This idiot didn’t help his cause by getting caught kissing another woman this weekend. And our slam—”
“Whitley,” I barked, as panic bubbled up. “I need you to . . . help me move a piece of furniture in the conference room.”
“Now?” He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“I have clients coming today so yes, now.” I motioned toward the door.
“Excuse me,” he said. “And don’t inherit his weirdness either.”
We were a few steps out of my office when he yanked on my arm. “What the hell is going on? You’re being odd even for you. And why is Penelope here?”
“She wanted to come,” I said, leading him toward the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder and lowered my voice. “She doesn’t know that Alma is . . . her . . .” I couldn’t even speak the truth.
Realization dawned on his face. “Oh. . . How are we supposed to talk about that angle?”
“Kane?” JoJo stepped into the lobby, arms full of bags. “Why are the lights off? And where is Penelope?”
