One thing I know about my man is if I run away from him, he won’t follow. He refuses to fall for what he calls “manipulation,” but on Wednesday morning, I enjoyed a certain pride in not having crawled back to him. It was after eight when I went into the restaurant for breakfast, determined that Ray make the first move. I’d eaten all my French toast and was on my second cup of coffee when he appeared.
He looked awful—rumpled, unshaven, and worn. When I saw him, I made no move, so he came over. “Can I join you?” he asked.
“Of course.”
He eyed my empty plate.
“French toast. I recommend it.”
His nod seemed as if his head had grown heavy, and I saw that the main problem with being so definite all the time is the price when it doesn’t work. Nothing disturbs a Capricorn like having something
