Page 12 of My Rules

“No.” He grabs me by my two shoulders and turns me toward the front door. “Go home and go for a run or something.”

“I don’t want to go for a run.” I sigh as I walk out onto his porch.

“Then take a nap.”

“It’s first thing in the morning.” I throw my hands up. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Forget about men.”

“Why?”

“Because we are no fucking good, that’s why.”

My shoulders slump in disappointment. Even he openly admits it.

“Look.” He sighs as he pulls me into a hug. “I’ll come over later.”

I stand rigid in his arms.

“Okay?” he mumbles into my hair.

“Fine . . .”

“Are you cooking me dinner?” he asks.

“Ugh ... Why don’t you get the tooth fairy to cook you dinner?”

“No.” He scrunches up his nose as he steps back from me. “She can’t cook for shit.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Lasagna?”

I really do want to find out about this douche radar.

“Ugh . . . fine.”

“Got to go.” He closes the door in my face, and I stare at it for a beat.

The tooth fairy can’t cook, which can only mean one thing ...

She gives good head.

12:30 p.m.

I refold the napkin in my lap and look around the restaurant as I wait.

Where is he?

Typical of John, the prick, to make a grand entrance.

I glance at my watch and roll my fingers on the table as my impatience grows.

Fifteen minutes late.

If I didn’t know him, I would assume he isn’t coming, but unfortunately I do, and I know that this is his way of trying to assert dominance. He’ll swan in and pretend he was tied up at work when really, he is just too self-centered to worry about making anyone wait for him.

“There you are.” He smiles calmly before bending to kiss my cheek in greeting.

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