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people in the
entire restaurant, she felt like all five of them were looking at
her.
    “As salaam alaikum, may I take your order?”
Mariam was surprised to see a Muslim waiter, and a handsome one at
that.
    “Wa alaikum salaam, you think I could have a
few more minutes?” she asked with a smile.
    “No problem. My name is Isaiah. Just give me
a yell when you’re ready.” Mariam watched him as he walked back
toward the kitchen.
    What am I doing?
    Just because I’m mad at Rashad doesn’t mean I
should be staring down other men. She turned her attention back to
the menu. Everything looked so good. She saw about six things she
wanted on the appetizer list alone. After going back and forth for
a few minutes, she narrowed it down to three choices. From there,
the final decision would come from quick game of Einy Meeny Miny
Moe. Isaiah noticed her struggling to make a decision and decided
to offer some help.
    “Can’t decide, huh?” he said with a little
laugh. She was so into her entrée selection that she was startled
when he spoke to her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I
just thought you could use some help.” Mariam looked up and was
comforted by his kind smile. “I know it’s pretty early, but shrimp
alfredo is our most popular dish. If you’re into pastas, you might
want to try it.”
    “Uh, what else do you have? I’m allergic to
shrimp.”
    “Oh, okay. Well, that changes things. I
really like the grilled chicken sandwich. It has the chef’s secret
sauce,” he said trying to persuade her.
    “Secret sauce? I’m not too sure how I feel
about that. I usually like to know what I’m eating,” she said in a
flirtatious voice.
    “Yeah, me too, but after I tasted it, I
didn’t care anymore. It’s so good I almost got fired for trying to
sneak some home.” Mariam laughed and hoped he was joking, but from
the look in his eyes, she could tell he was. She took one last look
at the menu. “So, can I get you to trust me?” he asked.
    “I think I will,” she said. “But, if I hate
it. It’s your fault.” While she was waiting for her food, her phone
rang.
    “Hey, honey, sorry about breakfast.” Usually
she loved the sound of Rashad’s voice, but at that moment, it was
annoying.
    “It’s okay. I still got my breakfast,” she
said in a flat voice.
    “So, you cooked? That’s cool. What’d you
make?”
    “Nothing. I’m at Bertino’s.”
    “Bertino’s!” he yelled. “How could you go to
another restaurant? That’s my competition!” One of the main things
Mariam did not like about Rashad was how competitive he was when it
came to his restaurant. For the past two years, she had given up on
all other restaurants, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner at Starr
with Rashad. Finally, she was somewhere else, and he didn’t like it
at all.
    “Relax, Rashad. You were busy, and I didn’t
want to bother you.” She tried to stay calm. The truth was that her
decision to go to Bertino’s had nothing to do with her not wanting
to bother him, and everything to do with her not wanting to see
him. But she knew telling him that would only add to his anger.
Plus, she could feel herself getting irritated, and she didn’t want
to get in an argument in the middle of a restaurant, even if it was
almost empty.
    “I’m over here working extra hours so I can
marry you and you’re giving your money to the competition?” Mariam
felt bad. Could that be why he had been acting weird and working
odd shifts?
    I should have just stayed home, she thought.
“I’m sorry, Rashad. If I knew it would bother you this much, I
wouldn’t have come.”
    “How could you not know, Mariam? I work at
Starr, which means every other place that isn’t Starr is considered
competition.” His words were cold. “I’m the head chef. How would
that look if people found out my fiancé was out eating overcooked
pasta from Bertino’s?” She didn’t like his tone, but she was happy
he called her his fiancé.
    “Wait,