My daughter had never brought a boyfriend home, so I expected my husband to embarrass her—not order the pale, tattooed boy out before he’d even said hello. Then the boy silently put a photo on the table. One look at it, and my husband’s face went white.
My daughter had never brought a boyfriend home before.
Maya was eighteen, independent in the way eighteen-year-olds think they are, and private about anything involving boys.
So when she texted me that she was bringing a boy home for dinner while I was cutting vegetables, I almost dropped my knife.
My daughter had never brought a boyfriend home before.
Bringing Evan over tonight. Please be nice. I really like him.
I smiled at the screen.
I knew she had dated a little, but names usually disappeared from conversation the second I showed too much interest.
Then another message came through.
And tell Dad
