“That’s not all,” he said, kissing me and leading me to the kitchen. There he had lit more candles and draped a white linen tablecloth over the table. On it was plates of food. “I knew you like chicken parmesan, from one of the times we went out with Libby, so I ordered some earlier today and warmed it up for tonight’s dinner,” he said, laying the flowers and puppy dog on the table next to one of the chairs. I slowly walked over to the table and saw the chicken, spaghetti, and a basket of rolls. I was hoping there wouldn’t be any food involved tonight. I dreaded the various meals throughout each day, and I didn’t want to have to deal with that tonight. Anxiety always took over my body now when I was in situations involving food. Food was beginning to become the enemy. Ben helped ta
