“Smart? Relatable? Like something more of us should do?” She nodded. “Yes, it sounds like all of those things.”

He reached across the table and touched her hand, just for a second.

“Thanks. I should probably find a way to do something like that more often.”

She nodded.

“Me too. I used to go to church pretty regularly, but I got busy and out of the habit. I miss it. It gave me that time of peace that you’re talking about. Life can get so”—she sighed—“overwhelming sometimes, with everything going on in the world, then dealing with difficult issues at work, and then always family. It helps to take time for yourself, though I don’t take my own advice on that as often as I should. I do go on long walks, which is a good break for me in that way.”

He laughed.

“I could tell. I could barely keep up with you this afternoon! And I know you usually go on walks in much more moderate temperatures than London in December.”

She looked down, then back up at him. He loved how, despite her directness, she occasionally got shy with him.

“I was just in Norfolk in December, don’t you remember? London weather is balmy compared to that.”

The appetizers arrived at the table next to them. They both looked sideways at the table.

“Please let us know if your starter is to your liking, sir,” the waiter said.

“Oh, I’ll make it very clear, don’t you worry about that,” their neighbor said.

He took a spoonful of his soup.

“Hmm. It’s all right, but I thought I made it clear that I wanted something very spicy,” he said to the hovering waiter.

The waiter nodded.

“You did, sir, you did. I would give it a few more spoonfuls before you judge.”

The man huffed and ate a few more spoonfuls in quick succession.

“Ah.” He nodded. His bald head shimmered under the restaurant lights. “That’s better. Very spicy, just as I like it.”

The waiter bowed.

“Very good, sir.”

The waiter came around to their table and filled up their water glasses. Malcolm kept glancing over at their neighbor, and he noticed Vivian did, too. He ate a few more bites of the soup, but his face got pinker and pinker. After a few minutes, he put his spoon down.

“Well,” he said to his date, “finally, a place where they listen to me about how I like my food to be served.” He picked up his full water glass and downed it. “I’m sure most people couldn’t handle even a bite of this soup.” Sweat formed on his forehead and dripped down his face. His head got even shinier. He picked up his date’s water glass without asking her and drank all of that, too. “Waiter! More water over here!”

Vivian looked at Malcolm, her eyes wide. Malcolm could tell they both knew exactly what was going on.

The waiter came over, with such a bland look on his face that Malcolm knew—if he’d had any doubt before—that the staff was just as irritated by this guy as he was.

“Certainly, sir. Is your soup to your liking?”

Their neighbor grabbed the water glass almost before the waiter had finished pouring.

“Mmmhmm,” he said as he drank both glassfuls on the table again.

Malcolm grinned at Vivian and poured them more wine.

Vivian was going to explode from all of her held-in laughter. This man next to them was clearly about to faint because of how spicy the food was, but he wouldn’t confess it for the life of him. If he hadn’t been so terrible before, she would have leaned over and told him that drinking water just made spicy food hotter, and instead he should eat some rice or bread or dairy to soothe himself. But instead, she just drank more wine and watched the show.

“You’ll have to tell me how you like the food,” Malcolm said, when their starters arrived. “I hope it’s not too spicy for you.”

She took a bite, then grinned at him.

“It is very spicy, but it’s perfect, thank you. Just enough to wake up my taste buds and make me a little giddy, but not enough to bring tears to my eyes.”

Malcolm looked away from her and coughed again. Their neighbor currently had tears streaming from his eyes, which he was attempting to disguise with his napkin. Even his date couldn’t stop staring at him. The best part was that his bravado wouldn’t allow him to stop eating the soup completely, so every so often he would take a deep breath and eat another spoonful, and his face just got redder and redder.

“Cameron, are you feeling all right?” his date finally asked him.

“Fine. Fine, couldn’t be better,” he said, his shirt wet with sweat.

She sat back and nodded and didn’t say anything else for a second.

“Well, I only asked because I’m not feeling that well. Would it trouble you too much if you took me home now? It’s possible something here didn’t agree with me.”

Ohhh, that was good. This woman knew how to deal with difficult men. Vivian shook her head. That was probably not a great thing for her; it most likely meant that poor woman had dealt with far too many difficult men in the course of her life, and she knew how to get them out of a situation they’d caused without injury to their ego. But still, she’d done it very well.

“Oh, of course I can take you home now! It’s this restaurant, I’m sure—I knew there was something wrong with this place as soon as we stepped foot inside. Waiter!”

The waiter was at his side within seconds.

“Yes, sir?”

“We have to leave immediately. Something was wrong with my guest’s meal, and she isn’t feeling well.” He threw his credit card down on the table. “Please bring us the bill this moment.”

The waiter bowed.

“Certainly, sir. And of course, there’s no charge for your food, only for the drinks.”

The man gulped another glass of water and waved him away.

Moments later, the waiter brought over the bill, and the man signed his name and raced to the door, without bothering to wait for his date. She followed him slowly, and stopped to thank the waiter on her way out. Vivian hoped this poor woman cut this guy loose after tonight.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Vivian and Malcolm looked at each other and burst into laughter. Vivian was just winding down when she looked over at Malcolm and saw the tears streaming down his face, and that started her up all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I just can’t stop thinking about how he kept drinking all that water.”

She wiped away her own tears.

“I can’t stop thinking about how much pain he’ll be in later tonight.”

Malcolm practically howled at that, which just made Vivian laugh harder.

Their laughter finally subsided when the waiter came over and set a dish in the middle of their table.

“Compliments of the chef, and his apologies for”—the waiter cleared his throat—“any unpleasantness earlier. I hope you’re both enjoying your meal?”

Vivian beamed at the waiter.

“It’s wonderful, thank you so much. I’ve never had Nigerian food before, and everything we’ve had so far is delicious. Please thank the chef for me.” She paused. “And it’s the ideal amount of spice for me.”

He grinned at her.