This is what true love looks like:
Four visits to the Hilton executive lounge in less than 10 hours to get food to take back to the room under the watchful eye of the sweet Indian lady who runs the place. After the last visit, I assured her that the three chicken quesadillas, two brownies, one cookie and slice of white cake weren't for me but for my husband. I don't care if she thinks the cauliflower, grapes and red pepper slices are for me, which they were.
She assured me that she does not think about what people are taking and that I should have whatever I want, which is concierge code for, "Yeah. Right. Your husband. Whatever, lady."
I love SH enough to be humiliated.