PART 1 — THE UNEXPECTED GUEST

My name is Margaret, and my nineteen-year-old son, Zachary, had just finished his freshman year of college.

For almost a month, he had been talking about someone named Liam.

Not casually.

Constantly.

“Liam hates mushrooms.”

“Liam thinks he can play guitar.”

“Liam cannot play guitar.”

“Liam walked twenty minutes through the rain because I forgot my laptop.”

“Liam says dining-hall coffee should be illegal.”

Every conversation somehow became Liam.

I had never seen Zachary like that before.

Happy.

Nervous.

Protective.

Completely smitten.

So when he said he wanted to bring Liam home for Sunday dinner, I made far too much food.

Pot roast.

Mashed potatoes.