Page 32 of Clean Sweep
I smiled. “Good to meet you, Kate.”
“Same,” she murmured, with real curiosity in her eyes. “The boys have said such wonderful things about you. They really love you.”
I’d long ago released any romantic attachment to Ethan. He and I had experienced it, it had flared for a short while, and then dwindled in a slow squeeze that felt like gasping for air. I harbored no jealousy over Ethan dating another woman, but my entire body prickled at the mention of my sons.
“That’s always good to hear from another source,” I quipped with a quick smile. “Sometimes, parenting feels like shouting into the void.”
She murmured something that sounded like,I can imaginewhile Dahlia set several cups of coffee down, then disappeared. Behind them, she gave me a bolstering look that sent a shot of courage through me.
“So.” I leaned back and looked straight to Ethan. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I have my doubts you’d drop in to chat without a reason to do so.”
“Yes, of course. Nice place, by the way.” He glanced around. In all the years that he’d lived in Pineville, somehow he’d managed to avoid coming in, even after the renovations. Then again, I’d haunted Lizbeth here so much in the early days that he probably avoided it just because I loved it.
“Thanks.”
“I hear you’re doing great things with it.”
“I’ve really enjoyed the job.”
Thankfully, Ethan leaned forward, shoulders hunched slightly, as if ready to drop into the trenches. I’d do anything to get out of this small talk and right to the heart of the matter.
“Right,” he said. “We need to talk about Landon.”
“Landon.” I sighed. “Yes.”
Ethan sucked on his front teeth, an annoying habit that used to set my hair on end. Seeing it now reassured me that, no matter what he pretended, the grungy Ethan that I’d attempted to spice back to life still lived somewhere beneath all this glittering exterior.
How much of this new person was Kate directly responsible for? Would it fade if she left?
“The quick marriage proposal I can get around,” he said, “and I guess I understand his reasons for dropping medical school, even though I don’t like them. I think he’s going to regret this later. But getting married in February? That seems . . . I don’t know. Something is going on.”
My blood turned to slush. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “what?”
Ethan blinked. “What, what?”
“What did you say?”
“He’s getting married in February.”
I recoiled.
Ethan’s eyes widened. “He didn’t tell you?”
“I met Starla and he told me about dropping medical school, but hedidn’ttell me they’d set a date for . . . two-and-a-half months away.”
Annoyance flared in Ethan’s gaze. “Well that little—“
“What day is the wedding?”
“Valentine’s day.”
I fought not to roll my eyes. A thousand questions streamed through my mind. Whythatday? Why so fast? Did Starla attend school too? What about his classes, his internship, his job? Amidst all of the questions, however, lingered the undying one that had been haunting me all night.
Why didn’t he tell me?
Hurt overrode the panic. A wedding could be scraped together—if that’s really how they wanted to approach it—but why not tell me about it? Why avoid me? Did my response frighten him? I’d gladly welcomed Starla into my house. I had made his favorite foods, avoided awkward subjects, and let him bring it up. I’d even given him a chance to explain . . .
“Les?”
