Anton shot her a dubious expression while smiling. “It’s funny how almost everyone seems to think that, of how exciting my job is,” he said. Now, he was shaking his head, but the smile remained. “No, not quite like that at all. Travel is mainly local, though at times we might go out of state. But trust me, it’s not like New York or Paris or Barcelona. Not even close.”<br/><br/>Done sipping his drink, he continued. “And don’t get me started on the photo shoots,” he stated, faking disgust. “Sometimes, it’s just a whole lotta sitting or standing around,” he explained. “The lighting’s not right; the angles are bad; my tie is crooked; I’m smiling too much; I’m not smiling enough; I’m slouching; I blinked.” Anton glanced at Stella, who seemed to be entertained with his answers. “Don’t laugh, all that stuff is true,” he said with mock despair.<br/><br/>At her mention of groupies, he returned yet again to that memory of Evangeline joining him on that shoot. “Yeah, um, no groupies or fan mail. Not with my pit bull of a wife around.” He recalled fondly how she would seethe when they were out enjoying a fine meal, and women would walk by, casually brushing up against him, indicating an interest. In moments like these, Anton’s favorite line of hers was when she held up her left hand, visibly indicating her wedding band, and asked (and not too quietly), “Doesn’t this fucking stand for anything anymore?!” That drew a few glances their way. He just lowered his head and smiled. Widely.<br/><br/>Nearly choking on her request to meet Evangeline, Anton offered, “For sure. I already know the two of you will get along better than peas in a pod. She loves her music, especially classical, so you two have a lot in common. Thing is, got a text from her last night. Said she’d like to extend her vacation by a week or so. But yeah, next time she’s . . . .”<br/><br/>Not knowing where to go from here, his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, desperate to gather his thoughts. When he again looked upon Stella, her expression was a combination of anticipation and concern.<br/><br/>“Look, I know you mean well, and you have an awesome cat. But, um, Evangeline, that's her name, is not visiting family in Washington State. Nor is she extending her vacation by a week. I’m sorry, but I just hate talking about her. That said, I am under the impression that you’ll keep asking about her, so yeah.”<br/><br/>Breathing in deeply, Anton initiated his tale. “About six months ago, we checked in to<i>Lakeview Medical Center. </i>Evangeline was pregnant with our first child, a boy. So there we are in the delivery room, and I’m right next to her, holding her hand and coaching her along. She was having a difficult time, and then the machines started beeping left and right. It was then a nurse guided me to leave the room. Our son was lost, too, due to complications. And that was the last time I touched her, the last time I held her hand.” Reaching for his napkin, Anton dabbed at his eyes.