“I get it.” Unlike me, Jared was an only child. He was one hundred percent into forming a relationship the moment he knew about Dylan’s existence. But, again, that had to be hard for Darcy to stomach. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep Darcy happy and distracted this weekend. I’ve got my marching orders.”

Jared grimaced. “It’s weird as fuck to hear you call my mother by her first name,” he said as he climbed off the bed. “Even more weird, that you’re letting her call you Tommy. I thought you hated that shit.”

“I do…except when Darcy does it,” I said with a waggle of my eyebrows.

“Yeah, no. I don’t even like the implication of that look. Don’t turn the Martinez charm on full blast,” he warned. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you curse under your breath when she got out of the pool. Keep her happy, but keep it PG, Tommy. I know how you like the older ladies.”

“Jared MacFarland, what exactly are you accusing me of? I’m a gentleman,” I said, covering my heart with my hand.

Jared narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re right,” he said finally. “But, I hope you’re not too much of a gentleman to give me a debauched bachelor party.”

“Debauched? That’s a big word for you.”

“And I hope my weekend lives up to it.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

Charleston has always been the sort of city that you eat your way through. In the years since I’d spent any real time here, that had become even more true. Quite a few new restaurants had been added to the roster, and Jared’s favorite spot, a place called The Butcher & The Bee, was one of them.

“Good afternoon, y’all! Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked cheerfully.

“Uh, no. Can we sit outside, though? You boys don’t mind, do you?”

“Mom, it’s like ninety degrees outside,” Jared complained.

“But I’m in a sundress. I’ll freeze to death in this air conditioning,” Darcy complained, rubbing her bare arms.

“We’ve got some fans out there. I can make sure y’all are seated near one,” the hostess suggested.

“Perfect compromise,” I said, pulling the door open again.

“Thank you, Tommy,” Darcy purred as she gathered the hem of her long, gauzy sundress and followed the hostess to our table.

Darcy was chic and bohemian in her long, striped linen sundress, with flat braided sandals on her narrow feet, and her hair pulled up into a messy and still slightly wet bun. She looked fit, sun-kissed, and half her age, but totally different in some distinct way from the woman I knew years ago. More relaxed, maybe? More comfortable in her skin?