“You must try it, my dear. It is simply delicious.”

You can’t help but find her nervous behavior adorable.

She’s never let a singular into her wine cellar, until she met you. Old stone walls stacked high with liquid gold, each and every bottle branded red hot with her personal signature.

A commoner would be lucky for even a small sample of it.

“I recommend this one. It’s my best.” She explains, pouring you half a glass and setting it down in front of you with quivering fingertips. It’s not often she finds hers looking forward to constructive criticism.

But, then again, you are her dearly beloved wife.