He took her to a small Italian place on the west side.
Not the kind of restaurant that required a reservation three months in advance or had a dress code or charged forty dollars for a cocktail. The kind with red checked tablecloths and candles in wine bottles and a menu handwritten on a chalkboard and a waiter who called everyone *friend* regardless of whether he knew them.
She stood on the pavement outside it and looked at it.
"This is not what I expected," she said.
"What did you expect?" he said.
"Something with a sommelier," she said. "And ambient lighting specifically designed to intimidate."
"I can find somewhere with a sommelier," he said.
"Don't you dare," she said.
He held the door open.
She went in.
---
The waiter called them both friend immediately.
His name was app
