<blockquote>“Of course, you should never pop the cork. If you do it right, the sound should be” –and there it was, that gentle exhale– “as soft as a lover’s sigh.”
Two tables over, Avery was trying not to shred his cocktail napkin into too many small pieces. It wasn’t even the first time he’d heard Baldwin do this, or the tenth, or even likely the hundredth. It was his same song-and-dance every time patrons ordered a bottle of champagne: come over to the table, introduce himself as the proprietor of the establishment, chat with them about what special occasion had inspired such a purchase, and open it for them with gentle southern charm so thick it hung in the air long after he’d walked away again.</blockquote>
