Loving Valentine: A Novella Page 3
Sadness overwhelmed me and I buried my head in her neck, holding her closer.
Maybe I should be more excited about college. It would get me the hell away from the torment, and maybe I could finally get over Valentine.
4
Micah
AGE 19
My palms were sweating.
I clenched them into fists and told myself to toughen up. Ye of so little faith. I wasn’t going into battle. I was finally letting myself lose a battle I should never have been waging.
And I couldn’t believe it was Mom of all people who made me see things clearly.
But last year my mom had worked really hard to stay clean after rehab. Caroline practically forced her to stick with it, and that woman could be the most stubborn person on the planet. Sometimes that was an outstanding quality, say, for helping someone like my mom deal with an addiction. Not so great for supporting (or not in this case) her daughter.
Valentine.
The person I was on my way to see now.
As soon as she hit eighteen, Valentine moved to the city, got three jobs, and started renting an apartment with a friend she’d met at a flea market two summers ago. Star. Star was flaky and smoked a lot of jay. I worried Val couldn’t depend on her. But Valentine was a little defensive about her so I kept my mouth shut. She was getting enough crap from her parents about her life choices on a daily basis. She didn’t need me doing it too.
There was part of me that was a little concerned that Valentine was drifting through life, but I continually reminded myself that she wasn’t me. She didn’t need to know what her future might look like. There was still time for her to find the thing that made her happy. I thought she’d do something with her clothes designing, but so far she was bar tending, working in a chocolate shop, and answering customer service calls for a small internet start-up.
Val seemed content.
Well, mostly. She got a lot of hassle from her parents, which I know wasn’t fun for her. We’d both stayed at the Fairchilds for Christmas and my mom joined us. Mom and I were more than a little uncomfortable when Caroline chose Christmas Eve as the ‘perfect time’ to give Valentine shit about her future. I thought Val’s head was going to explode with rage. Thankfully, Jim stepped in before I did and asked Caroline to promise not to say another word the entire holiday. However, it hung in the air between mother and daughter; the awful tension.
That wasn’t why my palms were sweating as I made my way across town to Valentine’s crappy apartment. The apartment I wanted to get her out of but knew I never could because one of the many reasons I loved her was her a thousand-mile-long independent streak.
Nah, my palms were sweating because Mom had given me a big kick up the ass on Christmas Day.
Handing Mom the rinsed plate to put in the dishwasher, I tried to think of something to say. We’d offered to do the cleanup since Caroline and Jim had cooked. Valentine looked ready to offer to help us out but her mom had shaken her head at her. It was a not-so-obvious attempt to get me and Mom alone.
It wasn’t like we hadn’t been alone over the last two years. But every time I tried to speak, the well of shit that bubbled up inside of me just kind of choked me.
“Caroline’s too hard on that girl,” Mom whispered.
I gave her a sharp look.
She smirked. “Yeah, I know. Those in glass houses, right? I know I’m not in the position to judge, but…” she glanced over her shoulder to make sure we were still alone. The Fairchilds had retreated to the family den to watch Christmas movies. “I once was Valentine. The kid among the over-achievers who just wanted to experience life first. She’s got more grit than me though. I can see it in her eyes. She’ll be okay. But Caroline needs to ease up or she’ll lose her like my mom lost me.”
Unease niggled at me because I knew Mom wasn’t wrong. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“Hopefully.”
I moved to hand her another dish.
“She’s in love with you, you know.”
The dish slipped between my fingers, but Mom’s reflexes were fast and she caught it before it crashed to the floor.
Mom gave me a reassuring smile. “You really didn’t know.”
“Valentine?” I leaned heavily against the counter.
I didn’t want her opinion to give me hope, but… I couldn’t help it.
“You should tell her how you feel.”
She knew I loved her back? “What?”
Mom covered my hand with hers. “Sweetheart, you two couldn’t be more obvious if you tried. And yet, neither of you seems to recognize how the other feels.”
“Obvious?” Did the Fairchilds suspect?
It was as if she was a mind reader. “Caroline sees only what she wants to see, but I can tell Jim knows. He just doesn’t know how to feel about it.”
“How can you tell Valentine feels the same way?” I could barely hear anything over the pounding of my heart. I’d spent a year and a half at college trying to distract myself from the girl I’d left behind. Sometimes it felt like it was working. That distance was helping. But I couldn’t let her go. When I had time, I’d check in on her in the city and we’d spend all day together. Then I’d find myself back at square one. Fucking pining for her.
“The way she looks at you. The way she lights up from the inside out when you walk into the room. You make her feel good about herself and I don’t think many people in her life make her feel that way.” Mom squeezed my hand. “I’m so proud of the person you are.”
Emotion thickened my throat. “Thanks.”
“Don’t waste a moment of your life. Not like I did. You need to tell her, kid.”
Guilt pierced me. “They helped us. Both of us.”
She knew I referred to the Fairchilds. Mom frowned. “Yeah, they did. And I’ll be forever grateful for what they’ve done for you in particular. But that doesn’t mean you owe them your happiness. So what if you and Val dating makes them a little uncomfortable at first? They should feel lucky as hell to have you being the guy sharing their girl’s life. And they’ll eventually come around when they recognize what a good thing it is.”
So there I was. On my way to tell the girl I loved, I loved her.
It had taken me more than a few weeks to work everything out in my head. Until I realized I was wasting time overthinking everything. Mom was right. I owed the Fairchilds. But not my happiness. And not Valentine’s either.
Today was Valentine’s Day.
It was a little cheesy, but I thought how one day, looking back, it would make my Valentine smile.
As scared as I was, excitement and anticipation moved through me. We’d take it slow. It would be really fucking difficult not to throw her on the nearest bed after wanting her for so long, but we had to do this right. Dates and getting comfortable in a new reality together first. Sex later.
Scowling at the broken building entrance, I made a mental note to talk to her landlord later and hurried up the three flights of stairs to Valentine’s apartment. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, I hammered my fist on the door before I could talk myself out of this.
Not hearing a thing, I deflated.
I should have called her first.
But I could have sworn that this was the day she worked customer service for the internet start-up, which she did from home.
Maybe she was on a call.
Shit.
Deciding this was too important not to interrupt, I knocked again.
Finally, I heard movement beyond the door. A few seconds later, the door whipped open and there was a guy standing there, scowling, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans.
He looked like he was in his mid-to-late thirties.
He also definitely looked like a guy who’d just been interrupted having sex.
Star’s boyfriend?
“Can I help?”
I bristled at his tone, wondering where the hell Val was. “Yeah, I was just looking for Valentine, but I guess—”
My heart plummeted to my stomach as she suddenly appeared beside the older guy. She’d thrown on a dress, but there was no disguising her flushed cheeks or messy hair.
Fuck me.
It was like someone had stuck a knife in my gut.
At my silence, Valentine flushed. “Sorry, introductions. Micah this is Dillan. Dillan, this is Micah. Micah is a family friend. Dillan is…” she looked up at him, her lips twitching with amusement.
The bastard smirked down at her. “Dillan is late for work.” He gave her a quick kiss and disappeared down the hall out of sight.
I stared at Valentine, trying to mute the betrayal that was seething through me.
Because she technically hadn’t betrayed me and I would be a hypocritical bastard if I tried to say she had. In my efforts to get over her, I hadn’t exactly been a monk since we’d met.
We stared at each other, the silence awkward and awful.
Then the bastard returned, fully dressed. He kissed Valentine, longer, with tongue, until I wanted to rip his fucking head off. “Later, baby.” He scooted past me with a knowingly smug expression, and I clenched my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from lunging at him.
“Come in.” Valentine broke the silence, stepping back from the doorway.
What I really wanted to do was leave.
And roar my frustration and rage out into a dark sky somewhere.
Instead, like I was on autopilot, I followed her into the rundown space that acted as both kitchen and sitting room.
“What brings you to my part of town?” she asked, running her fingers nervously through her hair.
I tried not to notice how kiss-stung her mouth was and failed. Clenching my jaw, I looked away. “Just in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by. Didn’t mean to… interrupt.”
“Oh, it’s fine.”
“Who is he?” I picked a book up off the side table. A romance novel. I assumed it was Val’s. Pretending to read the blurb, I waited for her to speak.
“He’s my boss. He owns the bar I bar tend at.”
Disbelief scored through me.
Was she fucking kidding me?
I turned to face her. “Are you insane?”
She flinched like I slapped her. “What?”
“Cupid, how could you be so stupid? You don’t fuck your boss.” My anger took over me. “Jesus, he looks twice your age. Too old for you. And is he too married for you too? Is that reason for the clandestine fuck in the middle of the day? Are you really that much of a screwup?”
The color drained from Valentine’s cheeks.
The hurt and betrayal in her gaze was worse than I was feeling.
I wanted to take back what I’d said. It was ugly. It was so fucking ugly. Assumptions based on nothing but my jealousy and rage.
Tears filled her eyes and I hated myself.
“Val—”
She raised a palm. “Don’t. Now I know… now I know what you really think of me. I…” she brushed her tears away angrily and huffed bitterly, “I always thought you were the one person in my life who really saw me. But you’re just like them. And I’ve decided I don’t need people who make me feel like a failure in my life.” She stormed toward the door and threw it open, gesturing for me to leave. “You can go.”
“Valentine, I didn’t—”
“You can’t take it back.” She shrugged miserably. “It’s out there now. Always between us.”
“That’s not… I was just surprised… I didn’t expect—”
“Just stop, Micah.”
Everything I wanted to say just wouldn’t come out.
I left.
And I would curse myself for years to come for not just telling her right in that moment that I was in love with her, I was a jealous bastard, and it had made me say things I didn’t mean.
5
Micah
AGE 22
The table, as always, laid out before us, covered in delicious goodness. Turkey, ham, chicken. Stuffing. Mashed potatoes, candied yams, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, corn bread. Not to mention the three different kinds of pie for dessert. Pecan, pumpkin and chocolate.
The Fairchilds always went all out on Thanksgiving.
But that wasn’t the reason I always came back.
I was a graduate student, had my own place in Boston with a few of the guys I’d met at college. All of them but Wells went home for Thanksgiving. I could have stayed with him.
However, I had hope.
That she would be there.
She never was.
Caroline had inadvertently pushed Valentine away as much as I had.
Not that she didn’t stay in contact. We emailed. We texted. It wasn’t the same. But it was something.
She talked with Jim too.
And for some reason, I’d really thought she’d be here this year. She was turning twenty-one next January… time was slipping away.
Mom was the only one who noticed my disappointment when I realized Valentine wasn’t coming. She didn’t say anything. The one good thing that had come out of the last few years, other than me getting closer to becoming a qualified architect, was my mom. We were closer. We were building trust again.
“Didn’t Valentine say she’d call?” Her grandmother asked for the ninetieth time. “A child who feels loved and wanted would have called by now.”
If Caroline came down hard on Val, her mother came down hard on her. She’d been making these little digs at Caroline every Thanksgiving for the past three years.
“My daughter knows I love her.” Caroline glared at her mom.
Caroline’s dad tsked. “Your mother means nothing by it. Lose the tone, Caro.”
Shit.
“I don’t have a tone.” She sniffed and stuffed more food into her mouth.
Jim stared forlornly at his dinner plate.
They missed their kid.
I missed her too.
Mom and I shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m not saying you weren’t right to guide her on her future, but you have to know when to let go and just let your child make her own mistakes.”
“I know that, Mother.”
“And Valentine seems perfectly happy. And that’s all anyone can ask for.”
“Really? Because when I was growing up, you made it perfectly clear that my happiness depended upon how successful I was in life and thus how proud I made you.”
“Jesus,” Mom murmured under her breath.
Things were about to go south very quickly.
A sharp ringing from the TV on the wall behind Jim jolted us.
“Oh, thank God,” Jim muttered. “That’ll be Val.” He tapped his phone as he turned toward the TV and suddenly Valentine’s beautiful beaming face was on the screen.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” she cried, waving at us.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” we called back.
I was so busy staring at her face it took me a minute to register the background.
“Where are you?” Jim asked.
Although it was dark out, there were palm trees blowing in the breeze behind her.
And she was wearing a white dress.
Valentine giggled. “I have a surprise. I’m in Cancun.”
“Mexico?” Caroline asked, leaning toward the screen. Her face paled. “Valentine… what is that on your left hand?”
Her dimples popped as dread filled me.
She raised her left hand, showing off the gold wedding band, and then there was a guy stepping into the shot. A guy in a tuxedo. Holding her close. Like she was his. “Louis and I got married!”
The room erupted.
Dazed, I barely registered what was being shouted at the television by both parents and grandparents.
Valentine had only been seeing this guy for three months.
He was a comic bookstore owner. That’s all I’d known about him.
Her pa
rents thought he was a loser.
Her grandparents changed their tune. Valentine was wasting her life.
I could hear her arguing with them but I couldn’t look at her.
I got up out of my seat and was leaving the room when I heard her shout at them she didn’t need their approval. From the way the four of them turned on each other, I assumed Valentine had cut off the video.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I grabbed my coat with my car keys, and rushed outside for a deep gulp of crisp, cold fresh air.
Stopping for a minute on the front lawn, I tried to catch my breath.
Instead, my mom caught up with me.
“Micah.”
I turned to her.
I guess everything I was feeling must have showed because her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Somehow Mom was embracing me and I was holding on as tight as I could. Tears burned in my eyes and throat until finally I had to leave or I was going to lose it.
As I drove back to Boston that night, I vowed I would stop loving Valentine and finally, finally move the fuck on.
6
Valentine
AGE 26
Over the years, I’d told myself I’d give up my addiction.
It was always a lie.
And for the millionth time, I found myself internet stalking Micah Green.
Scrolling through his Instagram, I think a masochistic part of me got off on the unbearable sense of longing and regret I felt every time I saw his smile. Like I thought I deserved to feel that way for having screwed up my early twenties. Not that removing people who make you feel bad about yourself is screwing up. Like my parents, Micah wrote me off as a failure, something my brief marriage and subsequent divorce only seemed to prove to them.
My grandparents were a little more forgiving, so I still had contact with them. Dad tried. He never stopped trying. And honestly, I think it would break my heart all over again if he did. Yet, there was a huge part of me that didn’t trust him not to hurt me.