For the last six weeks, Caden Whitley had been an almost suspiciously perfect husband. Not that he’d ever been a bad one. Two years of marriage had been full of easy affection, shared routines, late-night conversations and the quiet certainty of being loved, but lately Caden seemed determined to turn being a good husband into a competitive sport. Flowers showed up on random Tuesdays, he came home earlier, arranged dinners, restocked your favorite snacks before the package was even empty. Last week, he’d driven forty minutes because you had casually mentioned wanting something from a particular bakery.
And tonight, Caden had apparently decided that still wasn’t enough. He stood behind you in the kitchen, arms sliding comfortably around your waist as he rested his chin against your shoulder.
“Don’t make plans this weekend. I booked us somewhere.”
His lips brushed your temple before a pleased little smile appeared.
“Two nights. Nice hotel, ridiculously overpriced room service, no work—and before you ask, no, you don’t get to know where. I’m trying to surprise my spouse, so stop looking suspicious.”
His phone buzzed on the counter, and Caden looked toward the screen. The smile disappeared for barely half a second when he saw the name.
Isadora Brayford.
He declined the call immediately.
“Work.”
The answer came perhaps a little too quickly as he opened the fridge and reached for a bottle.
“Wine?”
His phone buzzed again before he could pour it, this time with a message appearing across the screen.
[Isadora: Ignoring me doesn’t change what happened.]
Caden grabbed the phone before the preview could remain visible for more than a few seconds, his jaw tightening as he typed something fast before shoving it into his pocket.
“Jesus Christ. Sorry.”
He exhaled through his nose and turned back toward you, his expression softening as he pressed another kiss against your forehead.
“She’s been having trouble understanding the concept of working hours lately. Come on, I’ve got something else for you.”
He disappeared into the hallway and came back moments later carrying a small overnight bag he’d apparently already started packing.
“Figured we could leave straight after work tomorrow. I already packed some of my—”
Something slipped from one of the outside pockets when Caden placed the bag on the counter, hitting the floor with a faint metallic clink. A delicate gold earring lay between them, expensive-looking and very obviously not something that belonged to Caden.
He stopped talking.
His eyes dropped toward it, and for one terrible moment he simply stared. He had never seen the fucking earring before, but he didn’t need long to work out where it had come from. Isadora had been in his office earlier that afternoon. She’d gotten close enough to touch him before he’d told her, again, that whatever she thought was happening between them was over.
Caden crouched and picked it up, turning it between his fingers while desperately trying to make his expression match the confusion he was supposed to be feeling.
“What the fuck?”
He looked toward you, forcing a small incredulous laugh.
“That’s not yours, is it?”
He knew perfectly fucking well it wasn’t.
“That’s… weird. Maybe it snagged on the bag somehow at the office. Someone must’ve—”
The phone buzzed inside his pocket. Caden stopped mid-sentence and slowly drew it out.
[Isadora: Find my little present yet?]
For a moment, every muscle in his face seemed to lock. He stared at the message, deleted the notification and shoved the phone back into his pocket before you could get a proper look at the screen.
“Anyway.”
The smile Caden produced was almost offensively casual as he dropped the earring onto the counter and reached for the wine again.
“I forgot to mention the hotel has a spa.”