“Baby?” He soothes, leaning in to kiss me back into submission, smoothing a little of my obvious temper tantrum to get me back under him. Still, the stupid thing starts ringing again almost immediately, and this time, in my drunken stupor, I pick up my shoe and throw it at the cell phone in complete rage. I score a perfect bullseye, and it falls to the floor with my shoe in rattling silence, unclear if I just smashed, or killed, his cell.

I don’t care. I picture her in my head ...