“Sounds like a nice life.”
“Nice if you have a lot of money and even more free time.”
“Does she have money?”
“She gets a monthly stipend. It was part of their divorce agreement.”
“And your father didn’t mind paying it every month?”
“He barely noticed. It was an easy price to pay to get rid of her. His words, not mine.”
“Hm. Well, it’s a better ending than I expected.”
I snort. “You expected that my father would kill her?”
“Well…”
“We don’t kill just for the sake of killing,” I tell her, trying to be as patient as possible. “We don’t kill for sport, either. At least, I don’t.”
“I believe that,” Jessa says in a small voice. Then she adds, “So… you don’t have any contact with her?”
“She calls me when she needs money or help with something,” I say. “That’s the extent of our relationship.”
She frowns. “That must be hard.”
“Why?”
“Because… well, because she’s your mother.”
I shrug. “I suppose. But we had very little to do with one another even when I was a child. She wasn’t interested in being a mother. My father wasn’t interested in keeping her around. Her leaving was a win for all of us.”
“He got bored?” she asks tentatively. “Or he met someone else?”
“Probably both. I never asked. More than anything, I’d say I think he realized marriage was not for him. He had two sons, an heir and a backup. He didn’t need anything else.”
She looks conflicted for a moment. “Is that how you feel, too? That marriage is not for you?”
“Considering how my first one went, that’s where I’m leaning.”
She hesitates for a second. “It’s not ‘went.’ It’s still going.” I raise my eyebrows, and she just gives me a helpless shrug. “I’m just saying. Your first marriage is not over.”
“It was over a long fucking time ago, Jessa.”
“But legally speaking, I’m saying.”
“Legally?” I scoff. “Doesn’t mean shit to me.”
“I guess it wouldn’t matter, anyway,” she mumbles. Then she adds something else that’s almost too inaudible for me to hear: “… if you didn’t want to remarry.”
I haven’t even thought about the possibility of remarrying. It seems… less crazy now than it once did.
“Why did you agree to marry Dane?” I ask.
She looks confused, as though she isn’t really even sure. Or maybe I’m just asking a question she’s spent months asking herself. “I guess because… I always wanted to get married.”
“So you just said yes to the first man who asked?”
She squirms uncomfortably. “It sounds horrible when you put it like that.”