Bruno was used to being the fifth wheel when he went out with Nathan and Nancy and Victor and Vivienne. It bothered him a lot of the time, knowing that when they left, he’d be the only one going home to an empty bed.
But he knew that Victor was philandering around town with his accountant (who carries with her a checkered past in the adult film industry). And he knew Nancy was harboring a very big paternity discrepancy. (Bruno supposed Nathan didn’t deserve the truth if he was too stupid to see that two black-haired Italian parents don’t typically equal a ginger son.)
And he knew that while Victor and Nathan needed to field irate phone calls throughout the day, regarding urine-spotted toilet seats and stray dirty socks strewn across the couch, he was free to piss all over the bathroom floor and drape skid-marked underwear from the curtain rods if he felt so inclined.
So at the end of the day, as Bruno fluffed the pillow of his twin bed, he asked himself, “What’s all the fuss about love, anyway?”