"Did you hear that?"

3:00 a.m. in May

“Did you hear that?” I whisper, gently shaking my sleeping husband awake; I think I heard the doorbell,”

I watch as he checks the notifications on his smartwatch, his illuminated face ghost pale in the dark room.

"Yeah," He grumbles, thickly groping for his cell phone on the bedside table, “There’s a package.”

“Who would deliver a package in the middle of the night?” I frown, checking my watch, “It’s three in the morning.”

“Dunno,” He replies, slinging his feet over the side of the bed, putting on his pants and glasses, and sliding on his house shoes. My hero is always prepared to investigate when something is amiss.

I get up, sliding on my shoes and sweater. I follow my husband as far as the top of the stairs, watching as he opens the door, ducks out, and ducks back in. In his hands is a brown-paper wrapped package bound with twine. He carries it to the table, and I come down the stairs beside him.

"Who's it from?" I question, standing beside him, tucking my cold hands beneath my armpits, trembling.

"It doesn't say," He frowns, pausing to look at the box; there is no label or note.

"Should we open it? The package isn’t addressed to us." I ask as he rechecks his phone, checking further back in the camera app to see if it caught the delivery.

"I think so; it looks like a drone delivered it to our door; if it isn't ours, I'm sure someone will come to retrieve it." He reasons, pocketing his phone.

"A drone, that's so cool," I gush, "but who would deliver by drone in the middle of the night? Do we know any pranksters that would do this?”

"I have no idea." He smiles, his eyebrows raising into his dark hair.

Stepping to the counter, I pull one of the knives from the knife block. I do quick work of cutting the twine and unwrapping the packing paper. The box inside has clear packing tape around its edges. Sliding in the knife, I slit them quickly as well, “I’m having second thoughts about opening this; for all we know, it could be a severed head or something illegal.”

“What’s in the box?” Then, he quotes, chuckling, “It’s fine; just open it.”

“Unless you want to do it.” I pause.

“Chicken,” He states, coming beside me to take over.

“If it’s bad, you’re paying for my therapy.”

He lifts the box lid; I begin taking a video. Finally, the sides of the box fall open, revealing a medium-sized cake. I laugh, “HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!” Again, I laugh, repeating what is written in bright pink frosting across the top of the cake.

“You’re hilarious,” He says, rolling his eyes.

“What, you don’t like your surprise?”

“No, I love it, but how did you manage?”

“I have my ways,” I shrug.

“We don’t know anyone with a drone,”

“The girls and I rented one just for you.”

“Just to deliver a cake, you’re ridiculous.”

“I even changed the ringtone on my phone to sound like the doorbell. I spent hours finding the right one.” As if on cue, my friend messaged me back, causing my phone to chime again, telling me the video was hilarious—what a great partner in crime.

"How early is it?" He asked, looking down at his watch, "We didn't even get married until late afternoon; it's three in the morning.”

"You know you love me," I beam, "were you surprised?"

"Yeah, I do love you," He smiles back, wrapping his arms around me, "Now get back to bed. What was the use of having your parents watch the girls overnight if you're going to get up so early?”

"Are you sure you don't want any cake?" I giggle, pointing at the box.

"No, I am not getting up for at least another four or five hours." He grumbles, plodding back upstairs to bed, expecting me to follow.

Shrugging, I close up the cake box, rewarding myself with a lick of frosting; we did not need to go stale before morning. Then, turning off the kitchen lights and every light on the way to the bedroom, we snuggle up and go back to sleep. He will never insist that I cannot surprise him ever again.