She didn't talk. The only sound was the the rain pelting the street and the parked cars and the canvas awnings. He waited as long as he could before speaking. "I could make a run for it, bring the car around and—"
"Nooo…" He interpreted her tone: I'm still exasperated at you, but you don't have to do that.
He'd left the umbrellas in the car, and the restaurant was her old favorite as opposed to her new favorite, and he hadn't remembered the song that was playing when they met. "Okay."
Eventually she reached out and held his hand.