But when we got home, Mathew had a black Jaguar with a white interior waiting for us in our driveway. He’d bought it without asking me. “What is that?” I asked him. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said. He couldn’t have picked a more impractical car for a person with a four-year-old who was trying for another. He told me it was perfect for us, but it was a perfect choice for him. Someone without impulse control. Who was he trying to impress, anyway? I came crashing down from my vacation high. So much for those nights over Egypt.
