I guess I should have felt sorry for him. After all, Logan had just dumped him. His sister and the whole freaking shiver that he ran had betrayed him. It was just a little hard to feel sorry for a man who at our age still had that much bounce to his ass, and also, I really detested men my age who dated guys my nephew's age.

"How about comfort food?" Stefano asked.

"You've had a rough day, huh?" Cole asked.

Cole was always such a dad, even with this incredible looking douche who had seduced his youngest son.

"I think he'll be fine," I said with probably a bit of an attitude in my voice.

Stefano was looking into his giant designer refrigerator, but he turned around to look at me and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, exactly what I said. I think you'll be fine. I love my nephew, and he's a great guy, but let's keep this real. You met him less than a week ago. He's hardly the love of your life."

"How do you know?" Stefano asked.

"Well, I just don't think that any man with this house, that super expensive cologne you're wearing, and that ass that defies gravity, is going to have any trouble meeting the man of his dreams. I am sure that there will be other young men who will fall for you hot and heavy, and they will probably even marry you if you are so inclined, but that's probably not the best idea next time."

"What, so I'm not the marrying type?" Stefano asked.

"No, like I said, some young guy would marry you," I replied.

"But an older one wouldn't?" Stefano asked, moving closer to me.

"Not one with any sense," I answered. "Not one who saw how you look at these young guys. To be honest, an observant young man might not even marry you."

"Is that so?" Stefano asked. "And why is that?"

"Because he would soon realize that men your own age intimidate the shit out of you. You're forty and ..."

"Thirty-six," he corrected.

"Okay, I'll believe you," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's the truth," he protested.

"Okay, but even if that's true ..."

"It is," Stefano said adamantly.

"You look thirty-six," Cole said diplomatically. "Or even younger."

"Okay, so let's say at thirty-six you marry a younger man like Logan again, one who is twenty-two or so ..." I began.

"Which no one would say a word about if I were a heterosexual man marrying a younger woman," Stefano said, jumping in.

"Yeah, they would talk about you then too," I assured him. "They just wouldn't say it to your face."

"He's right," Cole said. "There was a guy at my job before I retired. We talked a lot of shit about him."

"Thanks," I said, nodding to Cole.

"Fine, but please continue with your argument," Stefano said, pulling a large pot out from under a cabinet and filling it with water from the tap.

"Well, I just think that a smart twenty-something would soon catch on to the fact that you don't like men your own age, that they intimidate you, and they might see that as a sign of weakness and a turn off. Young guys want their daddy figures to be strong."

"Wait, you think men my age intimidate me?" Stefano asked, putting salt into the water and placing it on a Viking range.

"Most definitely," I said, nodding my head.

"So, you're assuming that because I dated Logan ..."

"I think you actually married him," I corrected.

"Fine," Stefano continued. "So, you're saying that because I married Logan that I must only date, and marry, younger men because men my own age intimidate me and you know all this even though you didn't meet me until this evening."

"But I've met your type," I said.

"It must be your open mind that has guys beating down your door, huh?" Stefano asked.

"Well, it's not my beach house," I countered.

"So, you're just one hundred percent sure that I only date, and marry as you pointed out, younger men, because guys our age intimidate me," Stefano said, with an attitude of which I didn't think he was capable.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the case," I said, watching as he turned on the burner, placed a lid on the pot full of water, and then walked to the pantry.

"It couldn't be that guys our age are just a bunch of assholes, huh?" he asked.

"Oh, there are lots of assholes our age," I admitted. "I've been on some websites and ..."

"And they thought you were an asshole?" he asked, pulling a box of pasta from the pantry.

"Touché," I replied.