Five Minutes Late – Part 2: Cheese and Kisses

The restaurant on Upper Street was warm and smelled of garlic and rosemary. Sam had chosen a table by the window, where the rain made silver lines across the glass. He stood up when Priya arrived, shaking water from her hair, and pulled out her chair with a little flourish.

"You're late," he said.

"Five minutes," said Priya. "Your sister's friend would have forgiven me."

"Her sister's friend is me," said Sam. "And I forgive you on one condition: you have to try the burrata."

"Is it going to change my life?"

"It's going to change your opinion of cheese," said Sam. "Which is the same thing."

She tried it. It did, a little. She said so, and Sam looked so pleased with himself that she had to hide her smile behind her napkin.

They talked through three courses. About his job designing museum exhibitions, and her job in marketing for a company that made very expensive kettles. About the sister who had set them up, and the terrible blind date she had arranged for Priya two years ago that had ended with a man crying into a bowl of pasta. About the cities they had lived in, and the ones they wanted to see.

"Have you ever wanted to just stop and not be sensible?" asked Priya, over dessert.

"Every day," said Sam. "I'm a very sensible man with a secret desire to jump into the Thames in February."

"Why February?"

"Because nobody would expect it," he said, grinning. "I think that's the whole point."

The restaurant was emptying. The waiter had started stacking chairs with pointed politeness. Outside, the rain had eased to a drizzle.

"Can I ask you something?" said Sam.

"Yes."

"Would you like to walk along the canal with me, now, even though your car is probably fixed and you could leave?"

Priya's heart gave a small, pleased jump. "I think the car can wait," she said. "And I'd like that very much."

They walked slowly along the towpath, the lamps reflecting gold on the black water, the canal boats creaking softly at their moorings. Sam kept his umbrella between them, but the rain had stopped, and after a while he folded it up and let it drip at his side.

At a small iron bridge, Priya stopped and leaned against the rail, looking at the water.

"Can I ask you something now?" she said.

"Yes."

"Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to be brave first?"

Sam laughed, quiet and warm, and turned to face her.

"I was going to ask first," he said. "Can I kiss you, Priya? On the bridge, with the boats looking on?"

"Yes," said Priya. "And if I say stop, you'll still walk me back to my car."

"Done," said Sam, and kissed her, slow and sure, his hand resting gently at her waist, the canal lamps glowing around them.

When they parted, she was smiling so widely her cheeks hurt.

"Green?" he murmured.

"Green," said Priya. "Your car, sorry, my car, is somewhere nearby, and you're going to follow me there, and then I'm going to take you to dinner again next week, so you can be terrible about cheese in return."

"Deal," said Sam, and they walked on along the canal together, and nobody was late for anything at all.