When Lightning Strikes

When Lightning Strikes: Chapter 7

After the not-so-subtle interruption in the kitchen from dad, Vince and I decided to head out to the local diner. It was me who suggested it – Vince was too much of a gentleman to do that. Even when things got awkward or ugly, he was always good-mannered. Asking if we could leave the house would mean that he was showing that he was uncomfortable.

Yep, he was definitely a fine male specimen.

“What is the specialty here?” Vince’s lovely voice made me snap out of my daydreaming. “Should I try the fried chicken?”

I nearly laughed as I took him in sitting across from me on the red chair. He looked so out of place here. He was the all perfect dashing: a sexy five o’ clock shadow, dark curls and deep eyes. He wore silk shirts, black slacks, belts and polished shoes.

And I brought him to a busy, bright diner when he was meant for reserved tables at five star restaurants.

What had I been thinking?!

“The gumbo is great,” I told him, but there was no way I was letting him try that. He liked light foods, so I thought of something which would suite his tastebuds. “But you should try something else. Maybe the calamari rings with Tartar sauce? It’s wrapped around lettuce too.”

To my surprise, he shook his head. “It is fine, ma Cherie. I will taste the gumbo. What does it taste like?”

“It’s a very hearty dish.” I struggled to think of good describing words. “Chilli and exotic, but homey.”

After the waiter took our orders (I had asked them for an iced water jug in case Vince needed it), it was about a ten minute wait for our food. I understood why. The lively diner was crowded with teenagers coming back from the movie theatre around the block, couples on dates and families having a night out.

When our dishes arrived, Vince’s eyes widened. He took a sniff of the medium-sized bowl and recoiled slightly. I winced. This was not going to go well. I should have brought him somewhere else.

“It looks …”

I groaned softly as I looked at my dish – chicken tenders with honey mustard. “We could order something else if you like?” I proposed timidly. “Or you could have mine? Or we could share?”

Vince laughed softly and put a hand on top of mine. “Do not worry, my love. I was not expecting such strong flavours, that is all. I want to try new food,” he insisted.

Pouting, I let him take a spoonful of gumbo and lift the spoon to his lips. I held my breath for a few seconds until …

He hissed.

My heart leapt and not in a good way. He didn’t like it! Oh my goodness, this was my entire fault! I watched, horrified, as he took a long swig from his glass of iced water. Once he finished, he cleared his throat. I hung my head. Here comes the humiliation …

“I loved it.”

My eyes bulged out of its sockets. What?!

A quizzical look crossed his face. “I said loved it,” he repeated with a smile. “It’s got a certain charm to it don’t you think so?”

I nodded quickly. My thoughts were spinning. I wasn’t an idiot after all. Vince liked it – no, he loved it!

“You really like it?” I asked.

He nodded, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. My heart suddenly sank. Was he just saying that it was yummy so he wouldn’t hurt my feelings? It would be considered as thoughtful, but somehow, I didn’t feel as good as I should have.