Page 88 of It's All Sun and Games

Priya reaches across the table to squeeze my hand.

‘I understand,’ she says sincerely. ‘And I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so well. Oh, look, it’s our waiter.’

‘Hello,’ he says. ‘What can I get you?’

‘I would love the spaghetti carbonara,’ Priya tells him.

‘And for you?’ he asks me with a cheeky smile.

‘Can I please have the Margherita pizza,’ I reply. ‘But with some ham and pineapple on it.’

‘Robin, no!’ he replies.

It still gives me the tingles, whenever he says that to me. It’s impossible not to smile.

‘That’s what you get, for dating an English girl,’ Priya tells him. ‘Plus, seeing as though you’re our waiter, isn’t the customer always right?’

‘Not this one,’ he replies with a laugh.

‘See, I’m paying tribute to my culture and to yours,’ I remind Andrea.

‘I’m pretty sure pineapples are from, like, South America,’ Priya reminds me.

‘Not these ones,’ I tell her. ‘They came from Stoke, and I know, because I ordered them.’

By the time I had finished my project at Come a Casa, and Andrea had finished revamping their recipes, it was a no-brainer that we should open a restaurant together. Well, it was always his dream, and I was in the mood for something new. Yes, I still have a passion for marketing, but it is so much more fun when you’re doing it for yourself, for something that you care about.

Andrea doesn’t usually work as a waiter – he’s usually in the kitchen – but knowing that Priya was joining me for lunch today, I’m guessing he couldn’t resist popping out.

‘Well, my first choice was the pene,’ I tell him flirtatiously, not that Priya has a clue what our in-joke means. ‘But I hear the chef is saving that for later.’

‘Okay, fine.’ He gives in with a cheeky smile. ‘Then, for now, you can have your monstrosity of a pizza.’

‘Grazie mille,’ I say, blowing him a kiss.

‘What did I just witness?’ Priya jokes. ‘Was that some kind of weird foreplay?’

I laugh off her words.

‘Italians just really hate putting pineapple on pizza,’ I say simply.

Our restaurant is called Villa Fiore – a nod to Andrea’s mum and dad’s restaurant. It’s right at home in Manchester city centre. We’ve gone for something cool, sleek and contemporary. Every corner of the place is Instagrammable – we’re really popular with influencers – with flowers absolutely everywhere.

But at the same time, the place is so traditional. Everything that comes out of the kitchen is so authentically Italian – well, with the exception of my pizza today but, come on, I’m the co-owner, surely I’m allowed whatever I want?

‘So, how are the two of you doing?’ Priya asks in a low voice, now that we’re alone again.

‘Just… amazing,’ I blurt. ‘I mean, the rain makes him miserable, he says he’s never seen so much rain, and last week we went out for dinner at a place that had something on the menu called cheeseburger macaroni, which sent him off on one – I thought he was about to pack his bag and go home.’

Priya laughs.

‘I mean, I’ve not known him for long, but that sounds about right,’ she replies.

‘But, yeah, things are great,’ I say with a sigh. ‘I can’t complain.’

‘Robin,’ I hear my mum call out. ‘Robin, hello?’

‘Actually, maybe I can complain,’ I joke to Priya as my mum, dad and two of their friends wander over.

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