There’s a click and a “Hello?” as Dad's raspy voice comes on the extension.
“Hi, Dad. It’s Jessa.”
“He knows who it is, dear,” Mom chimes in. “I already told him.”
I suppress a sigh. “How are you, Dad?”
“Oh, you know, same old.”
“Jessa has something she wanted to tell the both of us," Mom says, cutting to the chase.
“You and Dane patched things up?” my father asks immediately.
My stomach drops with disappointment at the sound of the hope in his voice. I expected it from Mom, but this feels like a betrayal.
“No, of course not,” I say. “He cheated on me. He cheated on me with my best friend.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, honey,” Mom lectures.
“If it had been one time, I might have been able to wrap my head around it. Maybe. But it wasn’t just a one night thing. They were having an affair.”
“Jessa—"
“They were sleeping together behind my back for months. Including the day he was supposed to be marrying me.”
“Men are wired differently, dear.”
“Mom!” I say, raising my voice just enough to shut her up. “I’m not calling to discuss Dane.”
Angry silence. One beat of it. Two. Three.
Then: “You have news,” Dad prompts.
I look around the palatial suite that’s become my temporary home in the last few days. I wonder if this would be enough to impress them.
“Right. I have news,” I say. “That’s why I called.”
I open my mouth, but I feel the words shrivel on my tongue. The sad truth is, despite the fact that we’re not close, I do still crave their approval. I do still care what they think. There’s this deep-seated need to be validated by them, and I know instinctively that no matter how cheery I sound when I say it aloud, I’m not going to be able to spin this as a good thing.
“Jessa, dear?” Mom asks. “Are you going to tell us what this is about? Because I have Bible study in half an hour.”
Bible study. Great. That should make for a nice, smooth segue.
“Okay, well… the news is…” I decide to just rip the Band-Aid. “… I’m pregnant.”
I hear someone suck in their breath. I’m pretty sure it’s my mother. But neither one of them says anything for the longest time.
Neither do I.
“You’re pregnant?” Dad asks finally. His voice sounds steady, but I can still hear the disappointment in it. Like this will be the thing that breaks him at last.
“Yes,” I croak. “Almost… almost three months.”
“Three months?” he repeats.
I’m painfully aware of the fact that Mom hasn’t said a word since I made the reveal. “Yes.”
“Three months ago…” he growls, “you were about to walk down the aisle.”