Instead of looking scared or repelled, Jim’s face shows concern. His brow crinkled, mouth frowning, eyes searching for understanding. That, more than anything brings on the tears.
“Oh, crap,” she whispers, wiping her cheeks.
The waitress appears as Jim hands Gemma his napkin. “Oh nuts,” she says, putting down their plates noticing Gemma’s state. “Are you okay?”
Gemma nods. “Sorry.”
“You know what,” Jim tells the waitress “can we get all of this to go?”
“Sure, absolutely.” The waitress grabs the plates. “Good idea.” She seems relieved as she walks towards the kitchen.
Gemma is beyond protesting.