“Morning, birthday girl,” he said, pecking me on the cheek. “Big day tomorrow. You excited?”

“Nervous,” I managed, forcing a smile.

“You’ll be great. Wait until you put on that dress. You’ll be the queen of the night.”

My stomach clenched. “About that… maybe I should wear the blue one? The one we bought last year?”

Mark froze. He was tying his tie in the mirror, but his hands stopped mid-knot. He turned to me, and for a split second, the mask slipped. His eyes weren’t loving; they were cold, annoyed.

“Liv, we discussed this,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I spent a fortune on that dress. Ms. Reed worked hard on the alterations. Are you trying to insult me?”

“No! Of course not,” I stammered, guilt washing over me. “I just thought…”

“Forget it. Wear the dress. For me.” His face softened instantly, the charming husband returning. “Please?”