Oh, hell yeah he wanted to meet this art teacher pal of Charlie’s. Bring it on. Bring him on. Hell, have him jump out of the fucking birthday cake. If Jason had listened to his family and friends—hell, if he’d listened to George Potts—he’d have been busy dating normal people and that would have formed a natural defensive barrier against sad, fucked-up, freeze-dried Sam Kennedy, who wasn’t just married to his job, he was married to his tragically dead lover. Who the hell could compete with that? Who would want to?
