Andrea, I don’t know what to tell you… this isn’t planned. I’m just trying to speak from the heart here. We’ve lost a lot. But I’d like to...believe we still have each other.’ He stopped here for a minute to reorganise his thoughts and deliberated on how to continue. ‘We have moved away from each other this past year. I have tried to share your grief but…,’ he trailed off. After a deep breath, he continued, ‘Andrea, I love you. You’re still the same woman I fell in love with and married. I want. Are you angry with me?" He always pronounced my name with a long 'i'. His slight French accent and the awkward twist of his scarred lips gave it an endearing inflection.I had turned away from him to let my skin cool and to gather my scattered wits. I couldn't do either while I was pressed against his hard body. I had not expected this. Menopause had left me dried out and unresponsive. Marc's fingers had triumphed over that and I certainly wasn't angry."I'm surprised." I reached out to touch his. More

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