Jesus… The way my heart used to pound in my chest every time I heard her ask Jared, “Are you coming home this weekend? If you are, bring Lil’ Tommy with you!” And I accepted every invitation eagerly.

Lil’ Tommy.

I outgrew that nickname long before I went to college, demanded that everyone call me Tomás, but for Darcy? I would be her Lil’ Tommy any time, any place.

Which would be so much easier to do if she wasn’t my best friend’s mother.

My friendship with Jared was important to me. After graduation, we both moved to Chicago, my hometown. He went to medical school at the University of Illinois and then became a doctor at Northwestern. I started an entry-level job at Edgewater Associates, one of the most elite architecture firms in the city. That job gave me the foundation to start my own firm, Son of Martin, five years ago. Jared was my biggest supporter, then and now, so, of course, I said yes when he asked me to be his best man. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to say? Sorry, bro. I can’t be your best man because just hearing your mother call me Lil’ Tommy makes me weak with the need to be inside of her? No, of course not. I couldn’t tell my best friend of fifteen years that I’ve been fantasizing about his mother as long as we’ve known each other. Besides, I was honored that he asked me to stand at his side while he recited his vows to Brandi. I just hoped I could make it through the ceremony without coming in my pants.

Four days. Four days and three nights in the guesthouse, mere steps from her bed.

I cursed again, finally meeting my reflection in the mirror. Took in my flushed face and rumpled clothing. I barely recognized myself. I buttoned my pants and smoothed down the front of my t-shirt, attempting to put myself back to rights.

How the fuck am I going to survive the next four days?

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would, and if I did, my dick would probably be really chafed from fucking my own hand.

We made our way toward baggage claim once we touched down. The car service I’d hired pinged me while we waited for our luggage at the carousel, and I felt that satisfying dopamine hit I always got when my plans came together seamlessly. Beside me, Jared groaned audibly.

“Can you not have your face buried in your phone this weekend?” he complained.

“I was just confirming our ride,” I said, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. “You do realize that I’ll have to look at my phone to make sure everything stays on schedule, right?”

“I get that, but I swear to god if I catch you responding to work emails—”