Her Favorite Was Never Me

Dakota Voss called me soon after. "Why did you remove your comment?"

I knew exactly which comment she meant. I said quietly, "I deleted it by accident."

Instead of questioning me, she simply hummed.

"There's some whole-wheat bread left in the fridge from yesterday. Make sure you eat it. I have plans tonight, so I won't be home."

"Dakota, it's my birthday today."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end.

"Didn't I already post about it?"

"Does that even count as a gift?"

"Callum, we agreed not to spend more than we need to. Posting a picture is a way to remember the day. Don't let all that stuff you see online get into your head."

Her voice was gentle, like she was patiently correcting a child who didn't know any better.

"If you want cake, order one yourself. Use the household account. Just don't get anything too big. It'll be wasteful if you can't finish it."

I looked at the six-tier cake on Harrison's private account.

Dakota stood behind him, lighting the candles on his cake. At the bottom right corner of the photo, part of a woman's wrist was visible.

She was wearing the bracelet I'd given her three years ago.

She hadn't refused it at the time. Instead, she'd transferred the same amount of money back to me and said, "It doesn't count as a gift. Neither of us owes the other anything."

I placed the money into our household account afterward, but she kept wearing the bracelet.

"Where are you tonight?"

"At a get-together with friends."

"What friends?"

Her voice was icy. "You never used to question me like this."

"Is Harrison there too?"

This time, she was silent for longer.

"He just got dumped. He's having a rough time, so a few friends are keeping him company."

"In a presidential suite?"

"Callum Briggs." She used my full name. "Did you invade his privacy?"

So that was what she cared about—not what I'd found, but how I'd found it.

I tightened my grip on the phone. "He gets gifts every year on my birthday and our anniversary. Is that a coincidence too?"

"He likes documenting his life. You don't need to assume those things are about you."

"Who gave him those gifts?"

"Does it matter?" Dakota sighed. "You're already my husband. Why do you care so much about someone who's insecure?"

I laughed softly. "So, he needs luxury watches, custom gifts, roses, and a presidential suite. Meanwhile, all I need is a single post, is that it?"

"Callum, marriage isn't a competition."

"Then, come home. We'll talk about it face-to-face."

There was a knock on her end.

Then, Harrison's amused voice came through. "Dakota, the candles are about to go out."

Dakota lowered her voice. "I'll explain later."

The call ended.

…

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. I thought it was her. When I opened the door, I found a delivery driver instead.

"Mr. Briggs, this is the birthday gift Ms. Voss ordered for you. Please sign here."

Inside the paper bag was a box of oats nearing its expiration date.

The order note read, "He said he hasn't been sleeping well lately. No sweets. Something practical."

I picked up the receipt.

It cost $19.90. After using a coupon, it was only $11.80.

At the same time, a new post from Harrison popped up on my phone. He was wearing a limited-edition watch, leaning against Dakota's shoulder.

"Someone said roses don't last seven days, so she gave me a starry-sky watch that never stops."

I stared at the photo for a few seconds before liking it.

Harrison messaged me immediately. "Don't get the wrong idea, Callum. Everyone chipped in for the watch."

I replied, "I didn't ask who gave it to you."

The typing indicator stayed there for a long time. In the end, he sent nothing.

…

At two in the morning, Dakota came home. She took off her trench coat and noticed the oats on the table. Her expression softened slightly. "You got it."

"Yeah."

"Don't complain that it's simple. What suits you is what's best."

She walked into the bathroom.

I picked up her coat to hang it up. A folded receipt slipped from the pocket and landed on the floor.

"Presidential suite: $38,000."

"Decorating service: $96,000."

"Custom watch: $680,000."

At the bottom was a handwritten note. "Ms. Voss requested Juliet roses, Mr. Drake's favorite."

The water in the bathroom stopped.

Dakota pushed open the door. When she saw the receipt in my hand, she stopped dead in her tracks.