he probably got at his beloved Dollar World.
I walk over, slowly, as if to be too close to him means much more than it did, say, ten minutes ago. I sit down and sip from my glass. “That all?” I ask once more.
Finally he reaches for my free hand, his fingers long, his palm clammy as it covers mine. “I wanted to spend Valentine’s with you,” he finally says.
I shake my head, hand still in his. “But what about…?”
“Mia?” he smirks. Shrugs. “I just… have you ever stayed with someone because it was easier than breaking up with them? And you knew, eventually, they’d break up with you and save you the work?”
I nod, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “Why, yes. Yes, I do… but, you seemed so hurt after she left you.”
He shrugs, biting his lower lip before admitting, “It wasn’t just that she left me that hurt so bad, it was how easy it was for her to leave me. I wasn’t… wasn’t expecting that part.”
I almost gasp to hear it put that way. He might as well be talking about me and Phil.
“And us, Rory?” I blush, just to say it out loud. “I mean, I’m flattered, but… you never said anything before?”
“You’re my boss,” he chuckles.
“Yes, yes I am.” Suddenly reminded, I slip my fingers from his… reluctantly.
“And you had Phil, before,” he reminds me.
“And you had Mia,” I remind him. “Before.”
And, through reminding, we suddenly have nothing to say.
“So what now?” he asks, abruptly. “I mean, I’m going to feel really stupid if I did all this and you’re all… corporate policy states that employees can’t date.”
“Well, it does,” I tease him, putting on my serious “boss” face. At least, for as long as I can. (Which isn’t very long.)
“And?” he prods.
“And… I don’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day either, Rory.”
“That all?” he teases back, and I can see by the way he sits lower in his chair, he wants to stay awhile.
And suddenly, so do I. Suddenly, I’ve never felt so at home in this stupid little café-slash-bakery.
Suddenly, I never want to leave.
“No,” I whisper, reaching for his hand again. “I want… I want to spend Valentine’s with you, too.”
“So it’s a date then?” he asks, hopefully.
I nod. “I’m your valentine?” he presses, cheekily.
I snort. “Well, I’ve never called anybody that before but, yes, Rory… you’re my valentine.”
“Prove it!” he says, quickly, our words almost overlapping.
“How?” I ask, but then, suddenly… I remember. Standing, I walk to the countertop and snatch the crinkly green Dollar World bag I’d tossed there when I first came in.
“I know how,” I fib, handing it to him. “I got you a Valentine’s gift while I was out.”
“You did?” he asks, taking it so gratefully I feel bad for lying to him like that. “But… you didn’t even know I’d done all this yet.”
“Can’t an older woman buy her boy toy a Valentine’s gift?” I chuckle, sliding back into my seat and topping off our champagne. “Without expecting something in return?”
“You’re only five years older,” he says.
“What? How do you know that?”
He shrugs, holding the bag but not opening it. “I saw it on some stupid form when we were doing our tax stuff before the end of the year,” he says. “I… you don’t seem older, to me, when I work with you. You just feel like my friend.”
I flinch a little, with delight. “I could use a friend,” I whisper, staring down into my pale, golden bubbles.
“A cheesy red gorilla!” he delights, tugging it out of the green crinkly bag while I’m not looking. “Just what I always wanted!”
“You seemed like the cheesy red gorilla type,” I tell him.
“I am,” he gloats. “No one ever gets that about me. I am so the cheesy red gorilla type.”
We laugh as he sets the monkey on the table, next to the empty champagne bottle. I sigh and say, “Look, before we start… whatever… this is, I have to be honest: I didn’t buy that for you.”
“Awwww,” he mopes, looking disappointed.
“I bought it for you to give Mia. I felt… I felt bad about snapping at you like that before I left and, well… it was the coolest thing that Dollar World had.”
He looks at the fuzzy red ape, and taps its thick plastic nose. “Well, since we’re being honest, and don’t hate me for this, but… I was kind of glad when that Phil guy sent you the wrong Valentine.”
“What? Rory, how could you say that?”
He looks back at me, eyes soft but not apologizing. Not even a little. Something about me likes that. A lot.
“Because… because I thought, maybe, now I’d have the chance to be nice to you. And not lie or cheat or hurt you. Is that awful of me, to be happy he did that to you?”
I smirk, shake my head, and reach for his hand once more. “It’s the stupidest, craziest, weirdest, nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Rory…”
“Phew,” he says, squeezing my fingers playfully. “My friends told me stupid, crazy, weird, nice guys finish last. I’ll have to tell them about tonight…”
I chuckle, and pull him closer. “Why don’t you wait until morning, Rory? And maybe you’ll have a little more to tell them about tonight…”
He blushes, mouth agape, his expression as soft and frozen as his big red monkey’s. I probably look the same way because, honestly, I’ve never said anything like that to anyone in my life before.
But, for some reason, tonight, it just feels right.
After all, isn’t that what Valentine’s Day is all about?
Surprises? Even when you’re the one most surprised?
* * * * *
About the Author
Rusty Fischer is the author of A Town Called Snowflake and Greetings from Snowflake, both from Musa Publishing. Visit him at Seasons of Snowflake, https://www.seasonsofsnowflake.com, where you can read many of his FREE stories and collections, all about the fictional town of Snowflake, South Carolina.
Happy Holidays, whatever time of year it may be!!
Candy Hearts: A Romantic Valentine’s Day Story Page 3
