Five Years Later
My husband is not a happy camper.
I can see him just over the shoulder of the photographers, pacing and brooding like a big, angry bull, refusing to take his eyes off me, his hands balled into fists.
The casino asked me to pose for some pictures for a national advertising campaign. They want me to be, "the face of The Palace." When they proposed the idea to me a few weeks ago, there was an argument between me and Daniel. It ended with his mouth buried between my legs and a fist crammed against my lips to keep from screaming and waking the baby, but still, it was a rare argument between me and the man I love beyond all reason.
Obviously, he doesn't want to see my face on a billboard or in a magazine—or rather, he doesn't want anyone else to see it—but he has always been
