Loving Valentine: A Novella

“Oh sure, of course. You’ve been amazing.”

I walked toward the front of the store from the changing rooms and heard a loud, female voice say, “Oh, this place is perfect. Jenny was right.”

The compliment made me smile, proud.

“We’ll definitely find something for the ‘50s fancy dress theme dinner. I wonder if they only do women’s fancy dress.”

Fancy dress?

My smile abruptly disappeared as I strode out to see who this person was that thought my store could only possibly be a fancy dress store.

A tall heterosexual couple stood holding hands with their backs to me while the woman studied a silk prom dress.

“This isn’t a fancy dress store,” I announced to the back of the couples’ heads.

Then they turned to me.

And it felt like the shop floor disappeared out from beneath my feet.

Micah.

Standing in my store.

Holding the hand of the stunning ‘E’ from his Instagram.

“You’re like… kidding, right?” ‘E’ dragged her gaze down my body and back up again. I wore a purple pencil dress with a stiff white bow attached to the low neckline. “People actually dress like this? Like every day?”

“Elizabeth.” Micah warned.

What was he doing here? “Micah.”

“Valentine.”

“Oh, you two know each other?” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

Micah gave her a quick look before returning his stony stare to me. “Valentine is the Fairchild’s daughter.”

“Oh. I almost forget they had one.”

She knew my parents?

Anger bristled across my shoulders, but I didn’t let her see. I didn’t let him see. “How can I help you?”

Elizabeth stepped forward, her condescending gaze darting from one item in the store to the next. “Well, we’ve been invited to a ‘50s theme dinner. I’m looking for something… chic. Maybe I’m in the wrong place though.”

“Funny, a second ago I thought I heard you say this place was perfect.”

She gave me a shark’s grin. “Sometimes something that looks pretty at first looks a little cheap on closer inspection.”

God, he really knew how to pick ‘em, huh. “Yeah… I often think people’s souls are a lot like that. You know. Beauty on the outside. A whole bunch of ugly on the inside.”

Her eyes flashed, but she shrugged. “Whatever.” A black dress I’d designed myself drew her attention. It was reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn’s famous black dress in Breakfast At Tiffany’s. “Ooh, this might be perfect.” She released Micah’s hand to hurry over to it. “Do you have this in a size two?”

Minutes later she’d wandered off to the changing room, dress in hand, and I was alone with Micah.

The air crackled with animosity as we glowered at each other. He dressed stylishly in a fitted coat, dark jeans and black ankle boots. His hair was different. Shaved close at the sides, a little longer on top. He even had some fashionable stubble that I really wanted to mock but couldn’t. One, I didn’t mock, no matter how angry I was. Mocking was petty. When I insulted a person, the insult was direct, true, and based on my grievance with them.

I hated how good he looked.

Finally, I blurted, “Did you know this place was mine?”

He shrugged. “I’d heard something.”

The old hurt and defensiveness rose at his casual dismissal of my business. “Clearly it doesn’t meet your standards of success, but we’re doing really great, actually.”

Anger clouded his handsome face. “What the hell does it “doesn’t meet my standards of success” mean?”

Oh, don’t play the innocent. “You and your catty girlfriend, coming in here and mocking it as a fancy dress store.”

Micah looked away, guilt flickering across his expression. “She meant nothing by it.”

“Oh, please. Your girlfriend was being condescending and catty. But then it doesn’t surprise me. She’s absolutely your type.”

If he could have fried my ass with the heat of his glare, he would have. “What the hell does that mean? I don’t see you in years and I get this shit? What the fuck is that?”

Don’t ask me where my bravery came from or why I decided to just put it out there… all I knew was that I’d had enough of Micah pretending to be someone he wasn’t. A perpetually good guy! He wasn’t. I’d had enough pretending that he hadn’t hurt me and known he was doing it all along! “It means that the whole time I’ve known you, you’ve always been attracted to style over substance.”

“That’s not true.” He took a step toward me. If the air crackled before, it was snapping and angry and electric now.

“Yeah?” I stepped toward him too. “Well, I like to think that I’m a pretty great person no matter what you or my parents think. I’m good, I’m kind, I’m hardworking, and I don’t shit over people to get ahead in life. But that still wasn’t good enough for Micah Green. All of it didn’t come with long legs, blond hair, a shitty attitude but lethal ambition.”

Just like that, he froze. The color bled from his cheeks. His voice sounded hoarse when he said, “What are you talking about?”