Page 60 of The Other Guy

I narrow one eye. “Share?”

He uses the side of his fork to cut off a large section then forks it into his mouth, moaning with his eyes closed. “I don’t think I can. It’s just too good.”

“Jerk.”

He winks then pushes the rest of his omelet over to me. If I had an ounce of self-respect, I would have at least waited to dive in. However…

I polish it off.

No regrets.

Maybe the rest of the day I’ll practice that whole no regrets thing as well.