“Oh, stop it,” Mam sighed, rolling her eyes. “You have a crush on the girl. A little less of the dramatics please, son.” “No, I don’t have a crush on the girl,” I countered evenly. “I’m in love with the girl, and contrary to your dismissal of my feelings, I assure you that not only are they very real but very permanent.” I scowled back at her amused expression. “But it’s good to know where you stand on my relationship, Mam. Let’s rehash this conversation in twenty years when I swing by the house with my wife—previously known as the girl—and our children.” Narrowing my eyes, I added, “I look
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