I ran my hands through my hair, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. And then, in the middle of my mental exhaustion, something caught my eye.

The address on the receipt wasn’t quite right. The area was ours, but the delivery address was wrong. It was off by a few digits. Same street, wrong house number.

I held up the receipt.

“Kate, look at this. It’s not even our address. This must’ve been for someone else.”

My wife blinked, her anger faltering for a second.

“What?” she whispered.

“We live at 243 Maple, right?” I asked slowly, as if talking to a child.

She nodded.

“This says 241. These flowers are for someone else, Kate.”

She snatched the receipt from my hand, her eyes scanning it furiously. Her face flushed red as the reality of her mistake dawned on her.

“No…” she muttered, sinking back into her chair. “No, no, no… Nick, I’m sorry.”

I ignored her for a moment. I needed to make sure. I grabbed my phone and called the florist’s number on the receipt, trying to get to the bottom of this mess before the end of the business day.

“I’m sorry, sir,” a woman said. “But I can’t give out that information.”

“I’m not asking for names, ma’am,” I said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. “Please just confirm the address on your side. If there has been a mix-up, which is what it appears to be, your delivery man needs to fix this. The flowers belong to someone else.”

“Yes, I understand what you’re saying…” she said, her voice trailing off as I heard her clicking away at the computer.

“You’re right, sir,” she said. “241 Maple. I’ll fix this immediately. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

The flowers had been sent to a woman down the street, an innocent mix-up by the delivery driver.

The note? Not mine. The roses? Not mine.

Kate sat there, wide-eyed and mortified. Her face, once hard with anger, was now flushed with embarrassment. She stared down at the table, not knowing what to say.

“Nick, I… I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I thought that… Nick…”

She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling the exhaustion of driving all day hit me. But it was more than just that. My wife had just publicly accused me of cheating in front of the entire town, and all because of a wrong address.

I sighed.

“Kate,” I said quietly. “You put up a sign, babe. At the diner, even. A huge sign. I mean…”

Her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh my goodness,” she said. “The sign! I was just so hurt, Nick. I didn’t stop to think. And you know, Jeremy just cheated on my sister. It’s all so fresh in my head.”

By now, half the town had probably seen it, and the other half was probably hearing about it from someone else. There was no erasing that kind of spectacle.

“I’ll take it down,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Nick. Why don’t you take a shower and then meet me at the diner for dinner?”

I gave her a small smile and nodded.

As she left, I got into the shower, washing off the day’s drama. I didn’t want to go to the diner, I wanted to crawl into bed. But if I didn’t, Kate would take that as a message, too. I didn’t know what I wanted to do next, but I didn’t want to give up on us yet.

I was just struggling with it all.

By the time I showed up at the diner, the sign had been replaced with:

It’s Always A Good Time For Milkshakes, Now With Extra Apology Sprinkles!

Look, it was a decent attempt, but…

“You’re here,” Kate said, her face lighting up as I walked in. “Fried chicken?”

I nodded and sat down at my favorite booth.

That night, we sat down together and talked it all out. The embarrassment, the hurt, and the fact that Kate had been ready to throw our whole marriage away because of a misunderstanding.

Kate apologized a million times, and while I accepted, I made sure she understood how much her lack of trust stung.