Page 14 of The Cost of Love

Instead, she extends her manicured hand to him. “I’m April,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes as she bites her thin lip into her mouth.

The nerve of this bird. Either she doesn’t think we are here on a date, or she really doesn’t give a fuck. I roll my eyes and cross my arms, trying to keep it together. I’m one step away from hitting her, and two steps from crying.

Seeing my clear irritation, he frowns before facing her. “April, I’m Alexander, and this is my date, Chanice.” He motions over his shoulder to me.

She finally looks past him to glance at the person he is with. Clearly unimpressed, her eyes widen as she takes me in. They are asking the question on everyone’s mind: Why her?

I give her a little wave, and then the middle finger. She dismisses me with a flip of her hair before looking at him as he continues on.

“I’ve planned on spending the evening with her. Not you. So if you have questions, you can go to their website.” He points to the address on the truck. “Have a good night.” He dismisses her, making it clear he has no further intention of talking beyond this.

Throwing his arm over my shoulders, he pulls me closely into his side. “Now, as I was saying, if you want something lighter, then I would go for their samosas. They come with this cilantro crema sauce that accentuates the spice perfectly.”

Finally realizing that he is not interested, she moves away from us back to wherever she came from.

“How about we order all three and split them?” I glance at him, satisfied with how he took care of that problem.

“Sounds perfect.”

When we make it to the front of the line, he takes charge and places the order. Excitement has completely replaced all the nerves, as I look forward to trying this food. With barely any money for groceries, we never get to order out or have anything new that doesn’t come from one of my jobs. The chance to try a Mexican-Indian fusion dish is just the sort of thing I always wanted to do. Probably something the kids would love as well.

Guilt replaces my joy with the confirmation of the fact that they won’t get to have this experience. Not while they live with me, at least. Here I am about to indulge in a delicious night out, while they are at home eating fish fingers or ramen noodles.

I suddenly lose my appetite. Just in time for him to turn towards me and hand two drinks over for me to hold.

Chapter 7

Alex

She looks upset. Having thought we had made it through all the low points of the evening, something still pulls at her, causing her lips to frown. When I got to the restaurant just in time to see her leaving, I thought if I turned this around, we would be okay. I did, and yet we hit another roadblock when April showed up, insisting I pay attention to her instead. With all of that behind us, I can’t see the reason for her facial expression now.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, needing her to tell me.

She starts to back away from the truck window, leaving room for others to walk up and order. I follow her, the whole time watching to see if her face will reveal anything more about the problem. Her lashes sweep across her skin as she closes her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she looks back at me and tries to smile.

“Nothing, I just got sidetracked by a thought. I’m good.”

My vanity wonders if the thought is about me before I remember that she probably has bigger issues in her life than some man who asked her out. All I can do is hope to distract her from whatever plagues her mind.

Once in the car with our order, I turn to her and give the best smile in my arsenal. Determined to charm her into agreeing to see me again.

“Okay, Chanice, try this.” I lift the taco to her mouth, and she hesitantly takes a bite. As soon as the taste hits her tongue, she closes her eyes and moans a little. The image is enough to have me readjusting in my seat.

“Oh my god.”

My thoughts exactly, but for different reasons.

“Amazing, right?” I say, taking a bite of my own. I hand her the taco so she can feed the rest to herself, and we indulge in silence, our mouths too busy to talk. When we get to the end of the first dish, we lock eyes, and a smile passes between us.

“Okay, so maybe you do like to eat,” she says, wiping a napkin across the corners of her mouth.

“I told you.” I lean back and pass her the samosas so she can have a taste.

Watching her experience things for the first time is intoxicating. She is no good at hiding how she feels, so that joy and excitement are written all over her face every time she takes a bite. Her shoulders slump as she throws her head back in pure submission to the experience. Her obvious love for the food is clear in the crinkle around her eyes when she looks back at me.

“I didn’t take you for the food truck type.” She hands me the box.

“You don’t know me,” I say, not at all offended.