Page 5 of Happy Wife

“Land of conspicuous consumption” should be scrolled on the city’s crest.

Will smiles at the mention of his only daughter. “She’s good. Nora and I took her out on the boat this morning. She wanted to stay for the party, but I couldn’t think of a more boring way for a fourteen-year-old to spend a Saturday night than at a party for her dad.”

He’s sugarcoating the fact that Constance refused to let Mia stay for the party.

But Gianna probably already knows that.

The divorce might be far behind him, but Constance has hated me since Will and I first started dating. While she was fine with Will spending the morning with Mia, hell would freeze over before she entertained the idea of her daughter attending a party I hosted—even if Mia and I have built a sort of friendship. And, unlike some people in Will’s life, she doesn’t seem to wish her parents were still together.

As dinner progresses—to my relief—the evening finally finds an easier rhythm. Maybe it’s the champagne or just being next to Will, but when he leans in to ask if I’m having a good time, I findmyself nodding quietly and smiling. And by the time cake is served with Fritz leading the crowd in a roaring rendition of “Happy Birthday,” there’s a lightness in the air that everyone seems to be enjoying.

For tonight, for now, everything seems to be just right.

Chapter4

The French doors are still open, offering a seamless view from the living room to the pool and the lake beyond. A remaining few stragglers drank the last of their Dom Pérignon and left about a half an hour ago. Out on the pool deck, Will is sitting on a chaise, a scotch in hand, his gaze fixed on the night sky. I slip my Louboutin heels off by the couch and pad out barefoot.

“I have a good feeling about forty-six,” he says, still looking up at the stars.

“Oh?” I sit down beside him and pull my knees into my chest.

“If tonight is any indication? It’s going to be one for the books.”

It’s almost a compliment. Almost. And I can’t resist fishing for more praise. “Good party, then?”

“Best forty-sixth birthday I’ve ever had.”

He’s going to leave me hanging. I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”

He turns his gaze to me. “You looked beautiful tonight. In whiteandin black.”

“Thank you.” I smile. “So how does it feel to be forty-six?”

“You mean officially closer to fifty than forty? Will you still love me when I’m fifty-six?”

“Of course.”

“If my hair goes gray?”

“Salt and pepper hair? Sexy.”

“What if I start getting little white hairs in my ears?” he continues.

I feign disgust, pretending to gag. “Oh, ick. You really know how to flirt with a girl.”

He turns toward me, amused. “I didn’t know we were flirting.”

“Well, we’re certainly not now.”

He plants his feet on the ground, preparing to stand, but the mischievous glint in his eye tells me he has something else in mind. I kick a leg up in the air, mounting a feeble defense.

“No, no!” I giggle. “Don’t you bring your weird ear hair over here. Stay in your chair.”

With a burst of energy, he launches toward me, catching my leg and wrapping it around his hip. He pulls me close, settling between my legs and grazing my collarbone with his teeth in a playful nibble. My laughter slows as the nips become tender kisses on my collarbone and then up my neck, his lips warm against my skin.

I love him like this—unhurried, a little tipsy, and playful. And I can’t remember the last time he was in such a good mood. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him closer and unbutton his shirt, untucking his shirttail so the open shirt drapes around us.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges, pushing the hem of my dress up.