“Same here,” Delphine said. “Something bold. Any recommendations?”
“Yeah, actually,” Hunter said. “Vance brought in a bottle last month from Washington state. So good I ordered a case. You ladies want to get a bottle?”
“Sure,” Lila said, smiling like a fool in love. “If Vance picked it, we know it’s good.”
“Vance knows his stuff,” Hunter said.
“He does,” Lila said. “I’m so smitten with my clever husband.”
“We know,” Delphine said, rolling her eyes.
Hunter returned with the bottle of wine and three glasses, opening it in front of them and pouring a taste for Lila. She nodded approval, prompting him to pour for the others. This time, Seraphina looked up at him—really looked—and the most amazing thing happened. A flush crept up her neck and bloomed across her cheeks, turning her almost the same shade as her hair. She dropped her gaze back to her phone, but her thumbs had gone still. Whatever brilliant idea she’d been chasing thirty seconds ago was gone.
He lingered for half a second, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a dark green silk scarf. “Oh, Seraphina, you left this here last night.”
Seraphina took the scarf from him. Their fingers brushed for a beat too long and neither of them corrected it. She wound the silk between her hands, pressing it briefly to her lap as if steadying herself.
“Thanks,” she said. Her voice came out half a register lower than normal. “I didn’t even realize it was missing.”
“Yeah, well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It smelled really good, actually. So I hope it doesn’t smell like the bar now. Or like—” He stopped. Cleared his throat. “I’ll send the server over to take your dinner orders.”
He turned and walked away before anyone could say a word.
Seraphina stared after him. She’d twisted the scarf around her index finger without realizing it, and her other hand had drifted to the base of her throat—that unconscious gesture she made whenever a scene in one of her own books surprised her. Her lips were slightly parted. She looked like a woman who’d just had the wind knocked out of her and wasn’t entirely sure she minded.
“He smelled your scarf,” Lila whispered. “How interesting.”
“Very much so,” Delphine said.
Seraphina blinked, as if remembering we were all sitting there. “I’m glad he thought it smelled good,” she whispered. “How embarrassing would that have been if it had smelled bad.”
“Like your writing sweater?” Delphine asked, laughing.
“You’re so mean,” Seraphina said, but she laughed too. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip that was more like a gulp. The flush still hadn’t faded.
“I wish that man would just ask you out,” Delphine said.
“I wish Dorian would ask you out,” Seraphina retorted. But her comeback was automatic, reflexive, as she was still glancing toward the bar, where Hunter had his back to us, polishing a glass with an intensity that suggested the glass did not require that much polishing.
“That makes one of us. I told you I’m not interested,” Delphine said.
“But why aren’t you? He’s perfect for you,” Seraphina said.
“I already told you, I’m not interested in dating,” Delphine said.
“How are you, sweet Esme?” Lila asked, clearly trying to change the subject. “The night at the hospital must have been awful. You should have called us, you know. We could have come and sat with you.”
“No reason for all of us to be exhausted,” I said.
“Any word from dumb-dumb?” Delphine asked, her pet name for my ex-husband. “Let me guess. He was too busy to make it but still unemployed.”
“You nailed it. Here, I’ll show you what he said.” I scrolled to Jeff’s texts and handed the phone to Delphine. She read them, her jaw tightening with every line. Then she passed it to Lila.
“Did they really need to do surgery or is that just a way to gouge us for money?” Lila read aloud, her voice flat with disbelief. “This man has a child in surgery and his first question is whether it’s a scam.”
“And then blaming you,” Delphine said. “‘I thought you said she wasn’t ready for the big playground equipment yet. Why was she even up there?’ What a total butthole.”
“Typical.” Seraphina took the phone, read it, handed it back. “Blame the mother. Jeff, you’re so classy.”
