Satin Princess(66)

I take a deep breath. “First, I have a confession to make. Anton and I are not actually married.”

“Oh?”

“We probably should have corrected your assumption, but—”

“Sometimes, it’s nice to imagine what it might be like,” Margaret interjects. She doesn’t seem upset in the slightest.

“Exactly,” I say with a nod. “I guess it felt good, and I didn’t want to correct you.”

“Neither did he,” Thomas points out with a knowing look and a waggle of the eyebrows.

“The truth is, we only met three months ago. I got pregnant right away.”

I look at the old couple, wondering if I’ve lost them. They’re sweet, but I know from experience that not everyone is tolerant of certain life choices, especially the older generations.

“Our daughter is almost forty-three years old,” Margaret says. “She got married three years ago to the man she’d been with for fifteen years. Their three children were the bridal party.”

I smile. “That’s adorable.”

Margaret nods. “And our son? He has a child with a woman he’s no longer with. They never married. And that child is every bit as adorable to us. Everyone is entitled to their own decisions, Jessa. Whether or not they’re mistakes is their cross to bear. It’s certainly no business of mine.”

I wonder if Margaret can possibly know how good her words feel to soothe my anxiety. “Unfortunately, my parents don’t see it that way.”

“They’ll come around,” Margaret tells me confidently. “One look at their grandchild and they’ll fall in love.”

I sigh. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Thomas says. “I didn’t think I’d love my grandkids more than my kids. But it turns out, I do.”

“Thomas!” Margaret scolds. “We love all our family equally.”

He turns to me again, holds a hand in front of his mouth, and pretend-whispers, “She’s a rotten liar.”

Laughing, Margaret turns to me. “You’re a smart, capable young woman, Jessa. Do you know what you want?”

“I… I think so.”

“Then go out and get it, and don’t let anyone else make you feel ashamed. Even the ones closest to you.”

“Why couldn’t the two of you have been my parents?” I chuckle.

“For one, we’re British,” Thomas says. “Intercontinental parenting isn’t the easiest, I’d imagine.”

Thomas and Margaret end up spending most of the morning with me. I cook all three of us a delicious chorizo carbonara and send them off at the end of the visit with smiles on their faces.

After they leave, I take my new green baby blanket and head to the bedroom. It’s the first tangible thing I’ve gotten for the baby and it makes everything seem that much more real.

I take a picture of the blanket and send it to Chris. Slowly building my nursery. They say start with one good piece and build from there, right?

He messages back almost immediately. Where is this nursery?

I expected him to comment on the blanket or be excited for me, but I can’t read the vibe of his message. Either I’ve caught him in a bad mood or he can’t even pretend to support me anymore. In any case, I play dumb.

ME: What do you mean?

CHRIS: I mean, in what building will this nursery be situated?

ME: Anton’s house, of course.

CHRIS: Does that mean you’re going to try and make things work with him?

ME: I’m not sure what’s going to happen.

CHRIS: How can you not be sure?

ME: I’m still processing everything.

CHRIS: Exactly. So maybe you should hold off all important life decisions until after you’ve processed.

Maybe I shouldn’t have texted him at all. It seems like it takes no time at all for us to end up right back at each other’s throats, even when I texted him with the best of intentions. I take a deep breath and try to act adult about it. Maybe there’s something going on that I’m not aware of.

ME: Where is this coming from?

CHRIS: From a place I’ve been suppressing for quite some time now. I didn’t want to give you a reason to cut me out again like you did with Dane.

That one stings. Below the belt, Chris.

CHRIS: It’s the truth. I thought we put it behind us, but you seem insistent on repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

ME: Chris, please. Let’s not do this now.

CHRIS: Fine. Let me know when you’re ready to “do this.”

I drop my phone on the mattress and groan. “Fuck.”

“Something wrong?”

I shriek and sit up, my heart already thundering in my chest before I realize it’s just Anton.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles.

“It’s okay, I was just… I didn’t hear you come in,” I say.

“Texting someone?”

I nod. “Chris.”

“Ah.”

When I don’t volunteer anything else, he walks over and sits down next to me. “He doesn’t approve of us, does he?”

“Apparently, it’s a trend.”

“Is that a problem for you?” Anton asks.