Loving Valentine: A Novella

“E saw her store online and wanted to visit it. I didn’t know how to say no.”

“More like you didn’t want to say no.”

I shrugged. “Okay, I admit I wanted to see her.”

“And?”

I felt like I was going to throw up. “While E was in the changing room… Val let me have it. Basically implied I’m a shallow piece of shit because I’d rather have someone like E than someone like her.”

“What the hell?”

I looked him straight in the eye. “She outright said she used to be in love with me… and she said I knew it. That everyone knew it. But I didn’t want her because she didn’t meet my shallow standards.”

Wells looked like he’d been punched in the gut for me. “Fuck, man. What did you say?”

“I didn’t say a thing. I was in shock. And then she just walked out.”

We were quiet a moment as we watched Elizabeth move through the crowd of employees and their other halves, a born hostess.

Then Wells said, “It’s not on you. She obviously doesn’t know you all that well after all.”

“I pushed her away because of her parents. I called her a screw up. I cut her out of my life when she married that prick.” My heart hammered. “I could have prevented all of it if I’d just grown a pair and told her how I felt. So it is on me.”

“How do you feel about her now?”

Remembering how every part of me had come alive as soon as I’d seen Valentine the other day, I knew the answer to that. Not only that, I’d been internet stalking her for years. Scrolled through her Instagram and Facebook photos until my eyes were blurry. After her divorce, I wanted to go to her, but I’d been afraid it would send me back to that place where I constantly pined for her. With distance, the pining was kept at a minimum.

Yet in doing that, I’d broken her heart as much as she’d broken mine.

“I need to end things with Elizabeth.”

Wells clapped me on the shoulder. “About damn time.”

The right thing to do after breaking up with your girlfriend was to wait at least a month before moving on, right?

I could barely wait a week. I guess that made me a prick.

But the heart wants what it wants.

I’d promised I’d give it some time before I went to Valentine to clear the air between us. But I’d been home on a Friday night, working on some plans for a couple who were building an eco-home on a tiny plot of land in Beacon Hill at the end of one of the historical row houses. It was a miracle we’d even got planning permission.

Wells and Cherry were out on a date.

Fingers itching, I reached for my phone and opened Instagram. The first photo that came up on my feed was from Elizabeth’s account. She hadn’t blocked me.

Now I knew why.

The photo was of her kissing a guy. It looked like they were in a nightclub. The caption stated, “He’s a better kisser than the last guy I dumped.”

Nice.

Elizabeth wasn’t exactly devastated when we broke up. She was more pissed off that I’d ended things.

“You do not get to break up with me. No one breaks up with me. I’m ending this. And don’t think for one second you can come crawling back when you realize what an epic mistake you just made.”

She’d swaggered out of the café we were in as if she’d just been told her favorite store didn’t carry her shoe size anymore; not like she’d just ended a six-month relationship.

Not gonna lie, her reaction made me feel less of a prick.

And if she wanted to tell the world she dumped me, then have at it.

I shook my head, disbelieving I’d wasted Peru on her, and typed Valentine’s name into the search. Finding her account, I tapped on her latest photo and felt that goddamn ache grip me tight.

She was out with Mindy tonight. She’d posted a selfie of them in a bar and tagged the location.

Jesus, she was so beautiful it killed me.

Those dimples.

Those sultry eyes.

My attention moved to the location tag. They were in a bar near to me.

Screw it.

Not fifteen minutes later, I was pushing through the door of the crowded bar, searching the faces of the patrons for Valentine’s.

I found her sitting at a booth across from Mindy. There was a guy next to Val’s friend but Valentine sat alone. I worked through the crowd and didn’t even say hi before I slid into the booth next to her.

She looked up at me in shock. She’d pulled her hair into a high ponytail, elongating her eyes, which already looked huge and ‘come fuck-me’ because of the eyeliner she wore. I loved Val’s style. It was feminine and sexy and she did not know just how much all of that it was.