"Just a minute," Buffy called out to Greg, waiting at the door, "I haven't finished packing up yet. She raced around the kitchen wiping down the last counter, and grabbed her coat.
"I'm ready," she leant in to give Greg a kiss, but he pulled back.
"What?" she asked, offended.
"You still have that stupid hat on."
Buffy reached up and pulled off her chef's hat, hanging it on a nearby hook.
"They make me wear that you know."
"Honey, you own the restaurant, and you're the head chef. You are the 'they'."
Buffy grinned and said, "Does it make me look cute?"
Greg sighed, frustrated at her. "It makes you look how you always look. It makes you look like a chef. Now hurry up or we'll lose our reservations."
He stormed out of the building, and Buffy followed him, curious as to why he had snapped at her like that.
"Finally!" Buffy called when their food arrived, desperate to break an uncomfortable silence. "My cooks would never take this long, I mean it's just soup for crying out loud!" Buffy laughed nervously.
"God Buffy, do you have to constantly talk about work?" Greg slammed his drink down on the table and turned away. Buffy was a little taken aback by this.
"Sorry sweetie, I was just making conversation..."
"Buffy, that's what I came here to talk to you about. I think we should stop seeing each-other."
Her eyes opened wide in surprise.
"It's just that your life is all about your work, and that's good, but I can't compete with it. I'm sorry, really."
Buffy just sat there in shock, fighting back tears. "How can you say that?"
"You know it's true. I was going to wait until after dinner, but I think I'm just going to leave now. Here's some money for the bill." He threw a pile of money on the table and quietly left Buffy alone to sob silently.
