I called my parents. I made the call. Okay, perhaps not the call. A call. An important call. An attempt at displaying my level of maturity. They took it better than I would have thought.
"I wish I could take a picture of your mother's face right now."
"He's going to have to talk to us, Jessica."
"I know, Mom, I know."
No yelling? No cold shoulder? No "I'm disappointed"? And then relief washes over me.
"How long did it take you to drum up enough courage to come to us with this?"
"Dad, I'm currently sweating profusely and my hands are shaking."
Answer: Oh, about seven months.
All is well. I couldn't stop smiling. I told him via video chat and he couldn't stop smiling. He's coming back in March. He'll get a talking-to from my parents. But he's coming home to me. And I can't wait.