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“Trying something new.”

“Yes.”

I kiss her. She tastes faintly sweet and then like her, and dinner becomes a terrible plan. Then she steps back and smooths the front of my jacket where her hand caught it.

“Now dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do not.”

“Noted.”

I give the host my name.

“Riley?”

“That’s me.”

He takes us upstairs, which is the only reason to come here. Dark wood, white cloths, a room built before anybody decided restaurants ought to be loud, and the piano from the bar below coming up through the floor with the conversation sitting on top of it.

The server puts down two menus. “And Mrs. Riley, can I start you with something to drink?”

“Nilsson,” Astrid says.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Ms. Nilsson.”

I wait until he’s gone.

“I am keeping it.”

“Okay.”

“That is all?”

“What did you want, a hearing?”

“No.”

“Then Nilsson it is.”

She studies me as though there might be another answer behind that one. There isn’t.

“My lawyer will need everything consistent.”

“Tell her I’m cooperative when supervised.”

“That would be false.”

“Then tell her I’m married and learning.”

I pull her chair out before she sits. She looks at it, then at me.

“What?”

“I was deciding whether you do this normally.”

“Only when I’m trying to impress my wife.”