Not wanting to make a scene, I take a seat, but I let his words settle in. Pulling out a chair for someone is habit for him? Pulling out a woman’s chair? Well, that’s a really nice habit to have.

It’s sweet.

Thoughtful.

Not necessary but thoughtful, something you don’t see too often anymore.

Once he sits down, he picks up his cloth napkin and spreads it on his lap. Talking softly, he says, “I mean, I don’t think it’s that big a deal that I pulled out your chair. We might not be getting along, but I don’t have to be an asshole and not pull out my wife’s chair for her.”

“True,” I say and then pick up my menu. “For a twenty-seven-year-old though, that habit surprises me.”

“Are twenty-seven-year-olds supposed to be assholes?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know, but with my experience, I’d say they’re more self-absorbed than anything.”

“Your experience, huh?” he asks. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not really,” I say, taking in the three Italian options for dinner. Chicken parmesan, eggplant parmesan, and lasagna. “But seriously, when did you start pulling out chairs, opening doors, things like that?”

“Ever since I was young,” he answers and sets his menu down. “My mom was adamant about me and Mika being gentlemen. We took turns opening doors for her and pulling out her chair. She said she didn’t want to be the reason her sons didn’t treat their partners well later in life.”

“You have a good mom.”

“I do,” he says softly.

I know a little bit about Wilder’s family situation to know what that look on his face means.

Mika and Wilder’s mom is an absolute rock. She worked as a paralegal, took care of the boys, made sure to get them to all their events, and took care of their dad, who was in a terrible car accident when they were teenagers. It left him a quadriplegic, which led to some darker moments in the family. And then when Mika was in college, their dad passed away. It was tough on all of them, including their mom.

Clearing his throat, Wilder asks, “What, uh, what do you think you’re going to get?”

Seeing he wants to change the subject, I study my menu again, even though I know the three choices already.

“I think maybe the eggplant parm.”

“That’s what I was thinking as well.” He smiles up at me. “Look at us twinning.”

“Dear God,” I say with a shake of my head, causing him to chuckle. “Hey, stop that. No laughing. You need to look irritated around me.”

“Then don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t say dumb things, like ‘twinning.’”

“That’s not dumb,” he replies. “That’s stating the facts.”