Moments before...

I tilt my head and stare at the magazine with the scene of the rented house in Barcelona where Hunter looked at me with passion. I feel a pang because I miss my blue-eyed man.

I zap the TV schedule and see the scene of a romantic dream being cut in half and instantly my desire for a dream is kindled inside me.

“Surprises, why do you do this to Mom?” I speak once more to my children.

I zap a few more channels and stop on the topic of why the Spanish team have lost to such an ugly score, blaming Hunter as if he were the...