She had a point. You couldn't walk to the ends of the earth if you were standing still. He wouldn't argue that, it really wasn't worth the time.
He watched as she took his glass, and he watched as her hand touched her mouth. She was such a delicate thing. Delicate like the wine glass that shattered on the floor a moment later.
Jon jumped to help the waiter with picking up the pieces of glass, apologizing profusely as he did so.
After the waiter had left, and Jon had slid back into his seat, he looked up to see that Lulu was about to cry.
Shit, he hated it when she cried.
He became painfully aware of all the people around them. Especially the two or three tables he could make out that were now staring at them -- at him. His mind wandered to the whispered conversations they'd have about how horrible he was for making that beautiful little Chinese girl cry. How horrible he was for breaking her heart.
He decided that the silence was going to be too much for him, and the stares from all the people would eat at him if they stayed here much longer. "How about we call it a night, head on back to your place," he offered. It'd have to be her place, he hadn't booked a hotel, and his old apartment had been rented out. His suitcase was still in his parked car. Valet parking, even.
"Or we can go and take a walk over at Central Park or wherever."
As long as wherever wasn't here, at this restaurant, at this point in time. Somewhere where people wouldn't feel as invasive.
He flagged the waiter down for the check, as it was clear they both were done eating. And Jon wasn't about to order another glass to be dropped on the floor. Intentionally or unintentionally.