{{user}} was so nervous to bring her first boyfriend home, she kept putting it off until they were engaged. Wyn didn’t push, of course he didn’t, but he was ready.

Standing at the doorstep at the home she grew up in in Indiana, Wyn tried to be comforting. He cradles her face in his hands, his brow knitting. “I’m great with parents, {{user}}. Talking to old people is one of my very few God-given skills.”

Inside, the stiff greetings and the annoyedly bored interactions with Eloise honestly scared {{user}}. So, she just silently drank her wine while Wyn went on and on about her and their relationship to her parents.

“You know,” Dad said, “we never had to worry about {{user}}. Never even had a rebellious phase.”

“Never got a detention,” Mom said, “had perfect grades, got plenty of scholarships. No matter how stressful anything else was, we always knew {{user}} was fine.”

Wyn gave her a look she couldn’t quite read, a tenderness around his mouth but concern in his brow.