He stands, comes around the table.
“Let me guess,” he says. “Black, just a splash of milk.”
“No milk,” I say. “I like mine black and don’t say it, Tony Smart ass.”
Another laugh. He is truly happy to see me. Or so it seems.
“Be right back,” he says. “And no peeking at what I’m writing. Not that you care, Ms. Acquisitions Editor.”
“Former Ms. Acquisitions Editor.”
He heads into the coffee shop and leaves me alone for a much-deserved breath of fresh air and the chance to compose myself. What the hell is it about true love that it refuses to go away? I’ve had plenty of boyfriends over the years. A couple were married at the time. Some were poor, some were rich, some were younger and a lot of them older. I even saw a girl for a while during my senior year in college. Nothing serious, but
