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My brow furrows. “What happened?”
“Brent asked me to marry him!”
“Brent who?” I ask.
She blows out an irritated breath. “Do you ever listen to me when we talk?”
I smirk, glad she can’t see me across the line. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Brent,” she clamors as if I didn’t speak. “The guy I’ve been seeing. He gave me a ring last night! And I said yes!”
I stand there with my face scrunched up in horror. How long have they been dating … a few days? Weeks? This is my worst nightmare. It can’t be happening again.
“Forgive me if I don’t celebrate just yet,” I say dryly.
This is my mom’s third engagement in five years. The last two ended before they made it down the aisle. Thank goodness.
“Why do you have to be like this? Can’t you at least pretend to be excited for me?”
I sigh when her bubble audibly bursts. I don’t mean to hurt my mother, but the chaos of her life is exhausting at best.
“This time is different. Brent’s different. He’s the one, Maddy.”
I hold my tongue when a sharp remark almost slips out. This isn’t the first time my mom has said these words to me. It’s like she’s reading from the same script every time she meets a new guy. Rinse and repeat.
“When’s the big day?” I ask instead, already picturing her downward spiral that will inevitably happen when this relationship abruptly ends, like all the others have.
“In August!”
“This August?” I tilt my head back and close my eyes, feeling the sun on my face. “The August that’s a little over three months away? That’s kind of quick, don’t you think?”
“Brent wanted to drive to Vegas next week and just go for it. But I told him I couldn’t get married without my daughter,” she insists, the excitement right back in every syllable of every word. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
She starts rambling on as I absentmindedly watch the students traipsing across campus.
“He’s moving in this weekend …”
It takes a moment for me to tune back in to our conversation, but when I hear that sentence, I stop her.
“Wait, what? He’s moving in? To our house?” I ask.
“Of course he’s moving in, Maddy.”
“Now? This summer? With us?”
She laughs like I’m being silly. As if this were a happy thing. It’s not. But it is so typical of my mom. She swoops in and drops a bomb on me. Again. Without warning.
“His lease is up, so I told him to move in with us. The timing is perfect …”
“Perfect,” I deadpan.
She doesn’t acknowledge my tone or the fact that I’m obviously less than thrilled with her declaration. I mean, I’m just her daughter. My feelings don’t really matter. They never have.
“I have to go, Mom,” I say, uncaring if it hurts her feelings when I cut her off mid-sentence.
“Oh … okay.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” I disconnect the call before she says goodbye.
