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of the thick leather binder. Morris’s gaze dropped to it and his whole body stiffened. He leaned back in his chair, and Sheila might have laughed had she even a trace of good humor this morning. Ex-pro football player turned investment banker, six-four and two hundred sixty pounds, and yet here he was, scared of a goddamned wedding planner.
    “Yes,” Sheila said, reading his thoughts. “We are going to talk about the wedding.”
    “I didn’t say anything.”
    “You didn’t have to.” She continued to make eye contact with him. “Morris, I’m going to ask you point-blank. Do you or don’t you—”
    “Okay, who had the ham and cheese omelet?” The cheerful voice of a server—not theirs, a different one—cut in. Exasperated, Sheila looked up into the face of the forcedly chipper young man who was balancing a large tray of food on a forearm full of tattoos.
    “That’s me,” Sheila said.
    “You must be the eggs Benedict, then.” The server placed an oversized plate in front of Morris. “You look like an eggs Benny kind of guy. My favorite, too. Would either of you care for fresh ground pepper on your eggs?”
    “We’re fine,” Sheila said at the same time Morris replied, “I would love some.”
    Morris grinned at her. Normally Sheila loved his smile—it made him look devilish and handsome—but at the moment she was too irritated to do anything but glare back.
    She seethed in silence while the server dashed off to get the pepper mill. Then she seethed some more as Morris allowed the younger man to grind a generous amount of peppercorn onto his eggs.
    “Need anything else at the moment?” the server asked.
    “We’re fine.” Sheila’s biting tone left no room for argument, and the server disappeared. Making a point not to pick up her utensils, Sheila looked across the table at her fiancé, whose mouth was already full of egg. “Morris. Please. We really need to—”
    “I see Colin brought your breakfasts.” Another ridiculously upbeat voice steamrolled over Sheila’s words. “How does everything look? You’re okay for ketchup and jelly? More cream for your coffee?”
    Feeling as if she was about to lose it, Sheila glanced quickly at the server’s name tag—their server now—then fixed her eyes on the young woman’s pretty face. “Yes, Teri, we have our food, and the eggs are cooked perfectly. And no, we don’t need ketchup or jelly or anything else. And before you can ask, we will not be needing more refills on our coffee. As a matter of fact, you can bring us the bill anytime. Just please, for the love of God, leave us alone. Please .”
    Teri’s eyes widened and she backed away from the table with a what-the-hell-did-I-miss expression, one that eerily mirrored Morris’s own from a moment earlier. Around them, heads turned, the other patrons looking over at their table with curious faces. Sheila didn’t care if she was being loud. Let them all think she was a bitch. Maybe she was. It didn’t matter.
    Morris seemed overly absorbed in his breakfast.
    “Look,” Sheila said to him again, still not touching her food. “I’m just going to come straight out with it, and yes, we are going to discuss this right here, right now. We’re not leaving here until you tell me why you don’t want to marry me.”
    “Who says I don’t want to marry you?” Morris’s words were jumbled as he chewed. “When have I ever said that?”
    “You won’t even set a date.” Sheila was making every effort to keep her voice down, but it wasn’t working. The other patrons continued to stare. “The first time we planned a wedding, you were all over it. But this time? Every time the word wedding comes up, you find something else to do.”
    Morris swallowed, then took a long sip of his coffee. He wiped his mouth again, then took another long sip. It was a pathetic attempt at stalling. No problem. Sheila crossed her arms over her chest. She could wait all day if she had to.
    Finally he said, “A lot