Satin Princess(60)

“When did you meet him?” Dad asks in that quiet voice he uses when he can’t quite process what’s happening.

“Um… shortly after the almost-wedding.”

“How shortly after?”

“Later that night."

I don’t know why I’m telling them the truth. It just seems easier that way. Less messy.

“You… you left your wedding to your fiancé and met a strange man and slept with him shortly after?” Mom asks with growing horror.

I feel my whole body flood with anger. “You two realize that Dane was the one who fucked up, right? Why are you making me feel guilty for moving on?”

“Language, Jessa,” Dad says sternly.

“‘Language’ can get fucked right now, Dad!” I cry out. “You’re seriously worried about my language?!”

“We’re worried about you!” my mother corrects, her tone rising a few octaves to a shrill teapot whistle. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Jessa. But you need help. We did not raise you to be this way.”

A cold anger sweeps over my skin. “Excuse me?”

“Your behavior is becoming more and more reckless. Your father told me we should just give you some space. That eventually you would come around and see sense. But I see now that that was a mistake.”

“Your mother’s right,” Dad says in the same stern tone. “Who is this man whose baby you’re having? What do you know about him?”

“A hell of a lot more than I did about Dane, apparently.”

“Dane was a respectable young man,” Mom says. “He was a flawed human being. So are we all.”

“So everyone else’s flaws are fine, but I fucked up and I should fix things? I should take the hit? No. Screw that. All I hear is the two of you making excuses for Dane, but none for me.”

“Jessa, we thought you were smarter than this,” Mom says as if she hasn’t even heard me. “To get pregnant by some, some… stranger, it’s… it’s…” She trails off like the words to describe this horror haven’t been invented yet.

“Does it even matter to you that I love him?"

The words burst from my lips and it strikes me what I’ve just said only after I’ve said it. I’m glad my parents aren’t here to see just how flaming red my cheeks are.

Actually, strike that. I’d be happy to let them see just how embarrassed I am right now—so long as Anton never knows.

“You… love this man?” Mom asks tremulously.

“Yes, I do.”

“Honey, it’s been three months. You don’t even know him.”

“You don’t always have to know someone to love them,” I say, wondering if that even makes sense, and knowing that it does. “I know the things that matter.”

“Jessa,” Dad says. His voice is clipped and somewhat detached. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m aware. I just told you that.”

“Are you calling to tell us that you’re marrying this man you’ve only known for three months?”

“I… no, that’s not what—"

“You’re not marrying the father of your child?!” Mom exclaims dramatically. She starts wailing and drops the phone. I can picture her, distraught like a movie starlet, fat tears rolling down her cheeks one after the next.

“You just told me that I can’t possibly know this man. Now, you want me to marry him?”

“You’re the one that claims to love him,” Dad says. It’s strange to see him and Mom on the same page for once. They’ve been at someone’s throat their whole lives—either each other’s, or mine. “If that’s the case, then why not marry him?”

I bite my lip, frustrated with the way this conversation has flipped. “I just wanted to tell you that I was having a baby."

“Out of wedlock. A sin.”

“Mom!” I snap. “This is the twenty-first century, not the Scarlet goddamn Letter.”

“I don’t care what century it is,” she snaps. “Rules are rules.”

“I don’t subscribe to your rules or your beliefs.”

“I knew moving to the city was a bad idea,” Mom cries. “Look at you. Only a few months ago, you had the whole world at your feet. Now? Well, now—"

“The whole world at my—Honestly, what are you smoking, Mom?”

“Don’t you take that tone with your mother!” my father roars.

“I’m trying to have a conversation with the two of you!” I yell back. “I’m not a child.”

“No?” Dad asks. “Because this sounds like the kind of thing a bratty, rebellious teenager would do. If you’re going to have premarital relations, then you should have at least had the forethought to get him to wear a condom.”

“Oh my God,” I gasp as my skin crawls. “This cannot be happening.”

“Your father is right,” Mom says sniffily. “You should have been more responsible, Jessa.”

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? And now, I’m going to have a baby."

She sniffles again. “Does he know?”

“Of course he knows.”