Depression sat like a heavy stone on his chest. How had his life been reduced to this? By all standards, people would consider him successful. Why couldn’t he find the perfect guy? Hell, his imaginary partner didn’t even have to be perfect—he just had to not want Robert’s money. The few times he thought he’d found a keeper had turned out to be giant fiascos. One guy had tried to leave Robert’s house with Robert’s new laptop and another had tried to sweet talk him into financing a play. He must have a broken ‘loser alert’ sensor. Now, at thirty years old, he lived alone and didn’t have any romantic prospects in sight since two months ago, when the last gay man he’d liked had hooked up with a sexy cowboy. Sadly, from what Robert had observed, they were ridiculously happy together. “Hey Robert, did you like the new quiche recipe?” Tyler Remington approached Robert’s table, wiping his hands on his chef’s apron. “It was amazing as usual.” He mustered up a smile for Tyler.
