Page 2 of Clean Sweep
“No,” I murmured. “This . . . this has to be a joke.”
Landon is not the son that would casually mention a proposal or break life-changing news to me over a text message without any contextual basis at all.
Certainly not after dating for four weeks!
This was something my second-oldest son Max would do, because he fell in and out of love every twenty seconds.
Not Landon.
Furious, I tapped the phone icon and listened to it ring in my ear. He denied the call, then texted back.
Landon:Can’t talk now. At work. Later.
“You did not just decline me,” I growled.
Blake descended the stairs, thudding like he stomped out cockroaches on his way down. He zoomed by, a blur that managed to snatch his car keys before disappearing out the kitchen door with a “Bye, Mom!” tossed over his shoulder.
I sent a vague wave in response.
With all my control, I stopped myself from calling Landon again. I settled on the most threatening I-brought-you-into-this-life-I-can-take-you-out-of-it message I could conjure with so little brain capacity left.
Leslie:We WILL talk later, young man.
Landon:Thanks, Mom!
Sensing that he must be nervous about this—or he would have told me about it already—I schooled my inner Mama Bear and gave a calm reply.
Leslie:We’ll eat at six. See you then.
Then I set my phone down and screamed like a wild banshee.
AFTER A FEW DEEP,calming breaths, I paced across my kitchen.
My fourth read-through of the conversation allowed the truth to gain full hold in my mind. With it came a flush of cold as brittle as the winter mountain wind.
My brilliant, would-be-a-cardiothoracic-surgeon-and-always-followed-through-responsibly son had just proposed to a woman he’d been dating all of four weeks.
Four.
Weeks.
My heart did a double whomp for a tenth time. Pretty soon, it wouldn’t restart. I leaned back against the wall and stared at the floor. Shock made me almost entirely mute. My mouth opened, then closed while my brain looped around that single line.
I proposed to her last night.
I proposed to her last night.
I proposed to her last night.
Unable to stay still, I began to pace again.
The tile floor squeaked under my shoes every time I turned. Something in the weird noise calmed me. It gave me a thing to wait for. Something that wasn’t the crash and demise of my only child that didn’t think like a caveman. The only one whocalledon a regular schedule, for cripes sake.
I stopped, turned to the fridge, and grabbed a permanent marker. Now that Landon was bringing home a fiancée, there was so much to do.
List time.
My thoughts moved faster than my hands could write as I scrawled tasks across my favorite bright green sticky notes. A sense of relief followed as I peeled each note off and slapped it onto the counter.
