My husband stood in front of the mirror, fixing his shirt like he was heading out on a date—not to work.

That stung more than I expected… he hadn’t rushed anything I gave him in a long time.

“So where are you going all dressed up and smelling like that?” I asked, leaning casually against the frame.

“Meeting,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Important one. Strategy… projections… synergy.”

He threw those words around like they meant something.

“Synergy with lace?” I muttered.