My Wife's Birthday Gift
In the picture, my wife, Phoebe Reese, was wearing a skimpy black lace nightgown, holding the roses I sent her with a seductive smile on her face.
And behind her was the shadow of a man.
For a second, I couldn't feel anything.
Was Phoebe cheating on me…?
Was she so stir-crazy from me being gone that she found someone else?
A hot wave of anger hit me hard.
I gritted my teeth and called Phoebe.
The phone rang forever before she finally picked up.
"Why are you calling so late? What do you need?"
Her breathing sounded uneven, like she had just worked out.
"Phoebe, happy birthday. Did you get the flowers I sent?"