Now he’s standing in our family dining room, wearing the scarf I bought him, complimenting my mom’s pot roast like this is totally normal. And she’s giggling. My 58-year-old mother is giggling.

Apparently they met at her book club. He showed up as someone’s plus-one. I don’t know what’s more disturbing: that he’s into women twice his age, or that she’s into the guy who once clogged my toilet and blamed my cooking.