Page 21 of Happy Wife

“I will keep that in mind the next time I’m on the fence between a chicken salad sandwich and the BLT.”

“Chicken salad. No contest.”

He reached ahead to open the door for me.

“Welcome, Mr. Somerset.” The hostess beamed at the sight ofhim.

“Hey, Lily.” He nodded.

He’s on a first-name basis with the hostess. Bet he doesn’t even have to order his drink.

Lily grabbed menus and led us through the crowded dining room. As we made our way, I became acutely aware of how many people took notice of our arrival. A few waitstaff smiled in recognition at Will as he walked by. One of them even gave a little wave. We arrived at a small table near the window in the back and sat down while I pretended to be unaffected by the attention.

Lily batted her eyelashes just a little bit in Will’s direction. “Would you like to see the wine list tonight, or will you be having the usual?”

I can only imagine what Hot Mean Lawyer’s usual is. A James Bond martini served on a hardbound copy of the Declaration of Independence?

“Do you like red?” he asked me.

I nodded.

“Does Chef have any of that Barolo left? The 2016?”

“I believe he does.”

She smiled at him while I watched surreptitiously to see if he noticed her fawning over him.

Tack on another point for Hot Mean Lawyer: He didn’t.

Lily flitted off to the front of the restaurant as a pair of bussers arrived right behind her to fill our water glasses.

“Evening, Mr. Somerset. Good to see you again.” They both nodded before returning to their stations.

“So younevercome here, huh?” I said once we were alone.

“Turns out being a divorced dad means I’m on first-name terms with about half of the hostesses in the city and most of the takeout delivery drivers. It’s pretty embarrassing actually.”

“Mr. Somerset.” A man in a blazer with open arms was walking our way. “How are you this evening? Such a pleasure to see you again.”

Will pretended to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, hiding a guilty smile.

“I’m Michael. I’ll be taking care of you all this evening,” the man said.

“Hi, Michael. I’m Nora,” I replied. “Can I ask—just between us—how many times do you see this man in a calendar month? Be honest.”

Will chuckled. “Thank you, Michael. Give us a few minutes.”

After Michael walked away, I looked at Will. “Seriously, do you live here? Because that is so sad.”

“You know, it takes months to get a table here.” His eyes were alight with humor. “Some people would consider it a flex that I’m able to get a table here so often.”

“Is it a flex? Or are you sleeping on a little cot in the back?”

“You got me. Michael happens to be my emergency contact.”

“It’s nice, though. I’m flattered. Most guys let a few dates go by before introducing a girl to their closest friends.”

Now, we were both grinning.

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