Either she had plans afterward and took a cab or she simply wanted to avoid me after I gave her my peace offering on the plane. I don’t let either option bother me. Captain. Babysitter. Hard-ass. Nowhere on that list is “husband.” What she does in her spare time is not my business, and I’d be smart to do as I preach. Eyes on the Cup. Heart in the game. But I’d be lying to myself if I said that I don’t search for her in the hotel lobby when I make my way inside. Or that, when I come up empty, disappointment sinks into my bones.
