“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what would give you that impression, but—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? The weather girl was your last long-term relationship, and that was over a year ago. Since then, you haven’t been interested in dating. You won’t let Brandi hook you up with any of her friends—”

“I can’t date a fucking doctor. Y’all keep ridiculous schedules. I might as well stay single.”

“Not all of her friends are doctors, Tomás. But you haven’t taken her up on it, so how would you know?” Jared shook his head. “Pffttt…you want to be alone.”

“Maybe. But that still doesn’t mean I want to be alone forever—”

“You’re not interested in dating or relationships, Tommy? How the fuck do you think that’s supposed to turn out?”

How the fuck was that supposed to turn out? There was an answer to his question, but I was sure it wasn’t one he wanted to hear or that I could ever tell him. Darcy had occupied that space in my heart long before I ever thought of filling it. Now that I’d been with her, it was hard to even think of anyone else in that way.

It was ridiculous. I knew it was. But I couldn’t deny that I’d constantly compared the women I dated to her over the years. She was intelligent, soulful, caring, kind, and so fucking beautiful. So unbelievably sexy and beautiful that I could barely look at her sometimes, but even with all that, she was a down-to-earth country girl. Ambitious enough to be successful all on her own while caring deeply for her family and friends.

Darcy was the blueprint for me, but I couldn’t fucking have her. I needed some time to get over that.

“I…” I paused to clear my throat because my voice was too thick with emotion. “I remain hopeful that I will find someone who makes me as happy as Brandi has made you someday. But for right now—”

“Yeah, I know. You’re focused on your business,” Jared finished for me, his tone short and clipped.

“Hey, what’s with all this bullshit? Are you angry with me or something?”

“To be honest, yes. I just thought we would be going through these stages together.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know…getting married, having kids, watching the game on the big screen on the weekends while our kids play in the fucking yard, and our wives drink wine in the kitchen and talk shit about us.”

“Why are they talking shit about us?”

“I don’t fucking know, Tommy. Maybe I’m not fucking my wife enough, and you have a honey-do list that’s as long as your ass is tall. Fuck if I know. It’s what married couples do. They complain about each other, then go home and fuck anyway because that’s what love is.”