Page 47 of Happy Wife

“Nora?” a bubbly redhead trilled. “Are you Will’s Nora?”

Will’s Nora.

“I’m Nora,” I offered, my apprehension lacing my tone.

She clasped her hands together under her chin and let out a little squeal. “Oh, I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’m Autumn. Will has told me all about you. Gosh, does he think the world of you. Are you so excited about Nevis?”

Of the people I had met in Will’s world so far, she was the only one who seemed wholeheartedly pleased to meet me. Not suspicious or resentful, or harboring some thinly veiled disappointment. Just happy. It was like the first hint of sunshine after months of rain.

“Autumn.” She thrust an ardent hand out. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

I shook her hand with a smile, and she beamed back at me.

We stepped a little closer to the bar, and I reached for one of the signature cocktails that had been premade and left waiting for guests.

“Don’t drink those.” She shook her head and gently pushed my hand away from the offending beverage. “I wanted to serve palomas, but Fritz insisted on sazeracs—absinthe and whiskey. Someone’s going to black out tonight, but it doesn’t have to be you.” She looked at the bartender. “Two palomas, please.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You must plan a lot of these. I can’t believe how quickly you pulled all this together.”

Her expression went gravely serious. “Oh, I plan all of them. For the last decade. Vacations, parties, weddings. These people don’t socialize without me.” She handed me my drink. “The timing was easy enough to predict. Juries never want to go past Friday, and Will winning was inevitable. That man’s a mastermind.” She clinked her glass to mine. “He’s not bad on the eyes either. Here’s to you, girl.”

The Will Somerset hero worship is strong.

I quickly learned that standing next to Autumn at a party was like mainlining the town’s gossip. She quietly pointed out which associates were most likely to black out tonight, which ones wereon the chopping block for performance issues—there was a decent amount of overlap between those two categories—and which ones were secretly carrying on torrid affairs. She had the dirt on the spouses, too, dishing freely on tummy tucks, shaky finances, and prep school admissions scandals.

The sheer volume of gossip she had on tap should have terrified me, but my mind was preoccupied with visions of sandy beaches.

—

Three days later, we were lounging by a private plunge pool, with me sprawled out on my stomach in a bikini, soaking up the West Indies sun and Will in his bathing suit, reading a book he’d picked up at the Museum of Nevis History.

“Did you know zoning codes here mandate buildings can’t be taller than a coconut tree?”

I lifted my head from the chaise lounge and squinted at Will. “Oh really, Professor?”

“There’s so much history here. Alexander Hamilton was born just down the road.”

“Really?” I tried my best to sound bowled over by this information when I was mostly just charmed by his nerdy enthusiasm. I climbed out of my chair and into his lap, putting one leg on either side of him.

“Did you know Nevis and the neighboring island, Saint Kitts, collectively used to produce twenty percent of the British Empire’s sugar yield?”

“That’s a lot of sugar.” I kissed his shoulder.

He set the book down on the side table and wrapped his arms around me. “I needed this.”

“The Four Seasons? Or the West Indies trivia?”

“You.” He pulled me close for an unhurried kiss. “We should stay a few more days.”

I frowned. “I have to work.”

“Quit.” The word came out of his mouth like it was the easiest idea in the world.

“To do what? Be your harem girl?”

“I like the sound of that,” he growled, nipping at my bare shoulder.

I pulled back. “Seriously, I can’t lose my job.”