I Walked Into My Firefighter Husband’s Station With a Birthday Cake—Then His Captain Quietly Asked, “Megan… Why Are You Here?”

PART 1

By the time I pulled into Firehouse 18, the back seat of my SUV looked like a party store had exploded.

There were black-and-gold balloons bumping against the ceiling, a bakery box balanced carefully on the floor, and a ridiculous plastic trophy that said:

WORLD’S MOST STUBBORN FIREFIGHTER

My husband, Cole Barrett, was going to hate it.

Which was exactly why I bought it.

Cole had spent nearly a decade with the Cedar Ridge Fire Department, and in all those years, he had somehow convinced himself that birthdays were unnecessary.

He never wanted a party.

Never wanted presents.

Never wanted anyone making a fuss.

Every year, when I asked what he wanted, he gave me the same answer.

“Dinner with you. Maybe cheesecake. That’s enough.”

This year, however, his thirty-sixth birthday fell during a full twenty-four-hour shift.

He had left our house shortly after sunrise wearing his navy department T-shirt, carrying a travel mug and pretending he hadn’t noticed me acting suspicious.

Before stepping outside, he turned around.

“Megan.”

I looked up from the kitchen counter.

“What?”

His eyes narrowed.

“You’ve got that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you make right before you do something that becomes my problem.”

I pressed a hand dramatically against my chest.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He laughed, walked back over, kissed me, and murmured,

“Please behave today.”

“I always behave.”

“That is objectively false.”