Sorry, running a bit late. See you at half-seven?
She pressed ‘send’ and dropped the phone on her bed before rummaging through her wardrobe to find her navy linen dress.
She’d just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel round her hair when her doorbell rang.
No. It couldn’t be Sean. It couldn’t be seven-thirty already.
Well, whoever it was would just have to call back another time.
The bell rang again.
Arrgh. Clearly whoever it was had no intention of being put off. If it was a cold-caller, she’d explain firmly and politely that she didn’t buy on the doorstep.
She blinked in surprise when she opened the door to Sean. ‘You’re early!’ And Sean was never early and never late; he was always precisely on time.
‘No. We said seven.’
She frowned. ‘But I texted you to say I was running late and asked if we could make it half past.’
‘I didn’t get any text from you,’ he said.
‘Oh, no. I’m so sorry.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Um, come up. I’ll be twenty minutes, tops—make yourself a coffee or something.’
‘Do you want me to make you a drink?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He stole a kiss. ‘Stop apologising.’
‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she said, feeling horribly guilty. Why hadn’t she kept a better eye on the time? Or called him rather than relying on a text getting through?
She had to dry her hair roughly and tie it back rather than spending time on a sophisticated updo, but she was ready by twenty-five past seven.
‘You look lovely,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ Though she noticed that he’d glanced at his watch again. If only he’d lighten up a bit. It would drive her crazy if he ran this evening to schedule, as if it were a business meeting. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked brightly.
‘South Bank.’
‘Great. We can play in the fountains,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s been so hot today that it’d be nice to have a chance to cool down.’
He simply glanced at his suit.
And she supposed he had a point. Getting soaked wouldn’t do the fabric any favours. Or her dress, for that matter. But the art installations on the South Bank were fun.
‘I called the restaurant to say we’d be late,’ he said.
Sean and his schedules. Though if they didn’t turn up when they were expected, the restaurant would be perfectly justified in giving their table to someone else, so she guessed it was reasonable of him. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.
This was the side of Sean she found harder to handle. Mr Organised. It was fine for business; but, in his personal life, surely he could be more relaxed?
They caught the tube to the South Bank—to her relief, the line was running without any delays—and the restaurant turned out to be fabulous. Their table had a great view of the river, and the food was as excellent as the view. Claire loved the fresh tuna with mango chilli salsa. ‘And the pudding menu’s to die for,’ she said gleefully. ‘It’s going to take me ages to choose.’
‘Actually, we don’t have time,’ Sean said, looking at his watch,
‘No time for pudding? But that’s the best bit of dinner out,’ she protested.
‘We have to be somewhere. Maybe we can fit pudding in afterwards,’ he said.
Just as she’d feared, Sean had scheduled this evening down to the last second. If she hadn’t been running late in the first place, it might not have been so much of a problem. But right now she was having huge second thoughts about dating Sean. OK, so he managed to fit a lot in to his life; but all this regimentation drove her crazy. They were too different for this to work.
‘So why exactly do we have to rush off?’ she asked.
‘For the next bit of this evening,’ he said.
‘Which is?’
‘A surprise.’
Half past eight was too late for a theatre performance to start, and if they’d been going to the cinema she thought he would probably have picked a restaurant nearer to Leicester Square. She didn’t work out what he’d planned until they started walking towards the London Eye. ‘Oh. An evening flight.’
‘It’s the last one they run on a weeknight,’ he confirmed. ‘And we have to pick up the tickets fifteen minutes beforehand. Sorry I rushed you through dinner.’
At least he’d acknowledged that he’d rushed her. And she needed to acknowledge her part in the fiasco. ‘If I hadn’t been running late, you wouldn’t have had to rush me.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m beginning to think you might be right about me being chaotic. I should’ve checked that the text had gone or left you a voicemail as well.’