Xavier.

Work on Monday was plain awful. 13 hours of sheer, unceasing intensity - with a short deep breathing session (could have involved tears) in the privacy of the copy room. Helicopters gone wrong, translations needed all over my desk, Broadway tickets amiss, incorrect lists of guests for events, invoices needing immediate approval, 87 unread emails - that sort of mixture. When my rather fervid boss questioned (an irrelevant) something in a demeaning way and I felt my pregnant belly contract in response, I think he saw a look of panic on my face and backed off. The next morning he told me it was impressive that I had survived the workload the day before.

That is the context for what blissfully came Monday night. When I walked in the door at 8:45pm, Xavier was there to fold me into his arms and coo and murmur softly. He never does that (murmurs softly). Then he drew a bath, scattered bath salts, brought in a speaker to play Rachmaninoff, lit a candle and served me dinner in the bathtub on a perfectly arranged tray. I had never eaten dinner in a bathtub. He took my phone and hid it. After one hour I was back on planet earth, where you don't need to hold your breath in between tasks due to stress. Dream husband.