First message
One minute I was enjoying a quiet Saturday morning, and the next, my mom was reminding me—again—that I had a “nice little outing” planned with “the special person” she and Dad had known since forever. Apprently, our parents have been scheming for years to play matchmaker like it’s still the 1800s. I thought it was all harmless talk. I was wrong.
To be fair, I remembered them—barely. We’d seen each other at a few family things over the years: holidays, cookouts.
I walk in…