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“Look,” Josh said, “I thought this through.”
“Yeah, that’s what worries me.”
“You know me better than anyone else, so you’re the best person to find me a wife.”
“What about romance, attraction, crap like that?”
Josh waved a dismissive hand, even though Mitch couldn’t see him. “You know I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“You make millions from that stuff.”
“Singing about romance is different from actually believing it exists. It’s the same as singing about Santa. He doesn’t exist either. There’s no such thing as romantic love, only hormones and lust.”
“That’s a great quote,” Mitch told him. “Should we put that on your next album cover?”
“Funny.”
“So you don’t want to love your wife, just bang her and get to the baby part?”
“I didn’t say that.” Josh kicked off his shoes. Dealing with Mitch was using all his energy. Suddenly the party he’d planned to attend didn’t seem like such a great idea. “I believe in love. But love doesn’t happen instantly. You start with commitment and then you get love. And what’s more committed than marriage? The love will come later.”
“Commitment my ass. You should be committed,” Mitch mumbled.
“I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been around all that romance stuff since I was a teenager. I know every soppy ballad out there. I’m telling you, there’s no such thing as romance. I want a wife.”
“A non-romantic wife?”
“Exactly.”
“A wife with family values who doesn’t care about her career?”
“She can have a career, just not one that involves using me to get ahead.”
“My mistake.”
“Carry on.” Josh grinned at his reflection in the window.
“Basically, you want a relationship from the fifties?”
“Yes!” He thought about it. “No! Wait a minute; you’re putting words into my mouth again.”
There was a long sigh in his ear. “Don’t worry. I get it, buddy. You want me to vet some women and find you a wife, and”—there was a grin in Mitch’s voice—“if she happens to be Doris Day, even better!”
