Unlovable

Chapter 13: For everything lost...

Darcie was nervous. She fussed over the dinner like she was going to be graded on it, making sure everything was cooked and prepared to perfection. She only hoped that Roger liked Lasagna.

Most people enjoyed Italian food, right?

Harold hadn't. He didn't like pasta at all. He said that all the carbs gave him indigestion. Then again, we all know Harold didn't fall under the 'most people' category.

As she waited for the oven timer to tell her dinner was ready, Darcie took her time getting herself presentable. She didn't think Roger would mind a sauce stained t-shirt and ripped jeans, but she wanted to look her best for him.

She pulled on a yellow sundress and paired it with tan, strappy sandals. Then, she applied a little foundation to her face, coupled with a pink blush. She skipped the lipstick and applied mascara and eyeliner. She wasn't overdone, but she wasn't underdone.

Darcie looked perfect.

Roger clearly agreed, because his eyes widened when Darcie opened the door to him a short time later. This time, he did bring flowers.

"You didn't have to bring these," Darcie said as she sniffed the bouquet as they greeted each other at the door.

They were beautiful yellow daffodils and they matched her dress to perfection. Darcie placed them in a water filled vase and set them in the middle of the table.

"They're actually from my Gran," Roger laughed lightly. "She said the yellow would be very complimentary, whatever that means."

Darcie smiled and gestured for Roger to have a seat at the table.

"Well, be sure to tell her I said thank you," she replied.

"The food smells amazing," Roger complimented.

He sat at the table as Darcie pulled the lasagna from the oven.

"It better," she remarked with a laugh. "It's a family recipe. I was kind of worried that you didn't like Italian food, but luckily that doesn't seem to be an issue," she continued as she sliced a square for each of them.

She set the plates on the table, with a bowl of salad and a bottle of wine.

"Who doesn't like Lasagna? My Gramps always said you can't trust a person who doesn't like pasta."

Darcie laughed to herself. Truer words were never spoken.

They ate their dinner with companionable conversation. There was never an awkward moment between them. Darcie was pleased that Roger had helped himself to a second helping of lasagna. He ate it eagerly before he sat back and ran his hands over his stomach.

"I am so full," he remarked with a smile. "Dinner was great, Diane."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." She blushed.

"Why don't the two of us go into the living room and light a fire. I'll tell you the story of that painting, like I promised you last week."

Darcie crinkled her nose nervously. It sounded so intimate.

Fire light. Just the two of them.

She wasn't sure she could handle what it all might inevitably lead to.

"Can't you just tell me here?" she asked skeptically.

He smiled at her.

"I suppose I could, but stories are told so much better with a specific atmosphere. I'm sure you want to get the full effect."

He was joking with her. It felt good to have someone joke with her. She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, gee," she said sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to miss out on the full effect of the story."