"I'll take the Cricket burger, well done," I said.

"I'll have the fish and chips," my mother said with a smile.

"For the young gentleman?"

Alexander cleared his throat. "I'll have the rib-eye steak."

"How would you like that prepared?"

"Raw," Alexander said matter-of-factly.

My parents and the waiter looked at my boyfriend oddly.

"He means rare," I corrected. "Medium rare."

I could see Mrs. Mitchell's head lean ever so slightly out of her booth.

"Yes, that's what I meant," he said with a strained grin.

"And you, sir?"

"I'll have the shepherd's pie," my dad ordered, "and the green garlic and pea soup."

The waiter took our menus and scampered off to the kitchen as Alexander glared at me.

"What did you order, Dad?" I asked, horrified.

"Shepherd's pie."

"No—the soup."

"Green garlic. Why, would you like to order some? We can get the waiter."

All at once, I imagined the plate of green garlic and pea soup being placed within smelling distance of my vampire boyfriend. Alexander would wheeze; then he'd turn even more deathly pale than he already was. He'd stand up, staggering and gasping for air. We were miles away from the Mansion, Jameson, and Alexander's life-saving antidote.

"No—Alexander is deathly allergic to garlic!" I panicked. "We have to stop them; they can't bring it out!"

My dad's easygoing disposition turned to concern. He tossed his napkin on the table. "I'll cancel that immediately," he announced, and hurried off to find the waiter.

"I'm so sorry," my mother apologized. "Can he eat nuts?"

"Yes, it's just garlic he can't handle."

My dad returned to our table. "I changed it to a vegetable soup. You're not allergic to green beans, are you?" my dad teased.

We all laughed.