Page 11 of The Cost of Love

“Holy shit.” There’s no fucking prices.

Today’s date is printed at the top of the menu, and the list of appetizers, main courses, and dessert follows it. All without a single price. The bravado that pushed me into showing up sinks to the bottom of my gut, forcing me to slide down in the chair. Just in time for a man in a nice white pressed shirt to walk over.

“Hello, are we still waiting for someone to join?” He has one arm in front of him pressed against his stomach, the other tucked behind his back. A white glove covers his hand.

“Uh, yes,” I say, scooting back up.

“Can I get you something to drink while you wait? We have a lavender martini on special tonight.”

“How much is it?” I ask, already dreading the answer.

“Twenty-eight pounds.” His voice is calm and level, like what he is saying is the most rational thing ever.

My voice comes out in a squeak, as I fight with the panic to talk. “Just water.”

“Sparkling or still?”

“Tap?”

His lips twitch as his eyebrows raise up his forehead. Without saying another word, he turns and makes his way back towards the kitchen.

If it wasn’t already obvious that I don’t belong here, I just made it crystal clear. The sudden sensation that I can’t do this overtakes my whole body, making it impossible for me to stay in my seat. I know now that this is a mistake. Placing the menu back on the table, I stand and come face-to-face with Alexander.

“Leaving already?”

Although he just caught me mid-escape, his shoulders seem at ease, and his stance relaxed as he takes me in. All the swear words run through my mind as I try to think of a way out of this.

“I was going to the toilet,” I lie, at a loss for a good excuse for leaving.

“They’re the other way.” He points behind me.

I look back and forth between him and the unhelpful placement of the washrooms, before my shoulders slump.

“Look, I can’t do this.” My legs shift back and forth. I try to find a comfortable balance between brave and embarrassed. “This is not for me, and I’m going to go.” I try to step around him to make my way towards the door, but he moves in front of me, the game of two-stepping continuing.

“What’s wrong?” He puts a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place as his smile melts into a frown.

I can’t look at him, so I look down at his shirt. It’s black with a gray paisley print all over it. The first few buttons are undone, showing his hairless chest. To think I could have been kissing him there later tonight.

“I’m fine. I just think this is a mistake.”

He grabs hold of my chin and lifts my head. I reluctantly make eye contact.

“Chanice, what’s wrong?” His mouth is set in a determined line, his eyes squinting.

He waits for me to answer the question, making it clear I won’t be leaving without telling him.

“The menu doesn’t have prices,” I finally say with a heavy exhale.

“So?”

“So how expensive must a place be that the people who come here don’t care about the cost?”

He lowers his hand from my face, letting his arm fall back to his side. His mouth quirks up in the corner.

“I am going to pay tonight.” His words should have been a relief to the panic burning in my veins. Instead, they add fuel to the fire, painting my cheeks red from the heat. This restaurant made me realize how different our worlds are, and I can’t bring myself to think they should mesh.

“I still think I should go.” I move to walk around him, but again he steps into my path, not letting me go.