Done Playing Chance with His Heart
Neville had set up a special wish jar just for me.
Every month, I was allowed only three draws to claim his time and attention as my husband.
If I drew Dinner, he'd grace me with his presence for a brief meal, as though he were doing me some enormous favor. If I drew a blank, I wasn't even allowed to see his face.
I used to tell myself that this was simply his cold, overly analytical, STEM-brained way of expressing love.
That was, until Thanksgiving night, when our three-year-old daughter suffered a sudden, severe asthma attack.
It left her gasping for air, her lips turning purple. I grabbed Neville by the sleeve and begged him to let me use all my remaining draws if he'd just drive us