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“Um…,” my boyfriend uncomfortably shifts in his seat a second time, “no ma’am. I’m not a prankster. And what I described regarding how we met was not a joke.”

She snaps her glare to me. “Tell me he’s joking.”

I don’t.

“Jaye Jenkins,” her voice undeniably seethes, “you tell me this young man is jokingright nowor-”

“It’s not a joke, Mom.”

“What?!”

“Archer was a homeless vet when we first met. And while there was no wooing with concert tickets or expensive meals or romantic trips to Iceland-”

“You went to Iceland?” Archer mumbles in question to me.

“There was lots of reading. And talks about books. And cooking. And exploring places I had always wanted to try but couldn’t seem to find the guts to. He didn’t whisk me away to be this…trophy…wife…I never actually…wanted to be,” the confession stumbles out surprising both of my parents. “He simply…encouraged me to…find my own happy. And everyone is entitled to their own happy.”

Fury and outrage pumps so noticeably in her expression that the waiter decides to walk the other direction as opposed to approaching our table. “You said hewasa homeless vet.” She glares at him again, yet he still doesn’t cower. “Where do you live now?Whatdo you do now?”

“He lives with me.”

“In Chris’s house?!” my mother shrieks much too loudly.

“Inourhouse!” I firmly snap back.

“Voices,” Dad promptly reminds on a stern finger point.

“Chrisboughtthat house,” she needlessly reminds.

“And hehatedit.”

The gasp out of her doesn’t demolish the courage pouring out of me.

“He bought that housefor me.He bought it becauseIwanted it. Because I didn’t want my kids living in a downtown high rise. He hated that place so much that some nights he made up excuses just to stay where he really wanted. That house hasneverbeen more than a museum for the prestigious shit he felt like showing off and an expensive workshop for a hobby that he lovedmorethan he ever loved me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Icansay that, Mom. You…didn’t…know him.” Straightening my spine is done on a breath of confidence. “And had you? Had you really known more than just the fact he was your best friend’s son, that he had more money than he knew how to spend, that he had some of the snobbiest habits, then you’d be fuckingappalled. He was selfish. He was careless. Sometimes he was downright heartless. And worst of all…worst fucking of all…Iwasn’t treated like a blessing in his life but aburden.” The pounding in my chest harshly continues. “And no mother, no mother who loves her daughter, like Iknowyou love me, wouldeverwant her to be in that type of relationship let alone marriage.”

“Maggie-”

“Mrs. Jenkins,” she hisses at my boyfriend.

“Mrs. Jenkins,” Archer politely begins again, “I don’t have a job. I apply. No one responds. I apply again. And I’ll keep applying until someone takes a chance on me the way your daughter did. And in the meantime, I will continue to renovate our house.”

“You’ve done a great job, Cox.”

“Thank you, sir.” He nods at Dad and looks back at Mom. “I will continue to cook. Clean. Help out neighbors when they need it. Take notes at the stupid HOA meetings.”

“You take notes at those things?” Dad thoughtlessly gags. “You deserve a medal.”

His smile is pushed away to proceed with his speech. “While I don’t bring anything financially to this relationship yet, I can guarantee you that no one – and I meanfucking no one– has loved or will love your daughter as deeply as I do.”

“You didn’t know him! You don’t know how he loved her!”

“I can tell you that he didn’t.”

The bluntness to the statement causes my father to wince.