Valentine s Love

by Helena Stone

  “I’ve just locked up the shop. Do you want me to total the till for the day?”

  “It’s already six o’clock?” The news horrified me. I hadn’t meant to ignore my assistant all day. Especially not after the last words I’d said to her. As much as what she’d said to that customer still horrified me, I liked her too much to wish such uncertainty on her.

  Claire just nodded, the pinched expression on her face speaking louder than any words might have done.

  Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to relax. “Yes, if you could do that, I’ll finish up with this.” I waved my hand in the general direction of the computer. “If you have time, I’d like to take you for a drink when we’re done. We still need to talk.”

  Claire swallowed visibly. “Okay.” She turned and left me on my own again. The impulse to call her back and reassure her was hard to ignore, but I pushed it away. We really did need to discuss what she’d said, as well as how her words might be interpreted by those who didn’t know her. I’d decided hours ago that she’d probably not meant them the way they’d sounded, but that wasn’t the issue. The last thing I needed was for my customers—and in particular the handsome client I’d be meeting again tomorrow—to think I ran a homophobic establishment. Especially since that assumption would be as far removed from the truth as it was possible to get.

  Half an hour later, Claire and I settled in a corner of the small bistro a few doors down from the entrance to Spoilt for Choice, both of us carrying a glass of wine. For the first time since she’d started working for me, Claire appeared uncomfortable in my presence.

  “Ty, I didn’t …”

  “What I wanted to …”

  We both spoke at the same time, but rather than relieve the tension, it only made matters worse, if Claire’s downcast eyes were any indication.

  I sighed. “Claire,” I started. “I realize you probably didn’t mean it that way, but when you told that customer this morning that you couldn’t deal with him because he was looking for a present for another man…”

  “That’s not what I said,” Claire interrupted me, indignation present in both her posture and her tone of voice.

  “That’s what it sounded like,” I countered.

  I don’t think I ever properly appreciated what it meant to see somebody deflate, but in that moment, I knew. Claire’s shoulders dropped, as did her gaze. She reached for her glass, draining about a third of its contents before putting it back on the table, only then looking up to meet my eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” She sounded so sad I wanted to take my words back, tell her it wasn’t important, but I couldn’t. It did matter, and if an afternoon spent feeling uncomfortable was what it took to get her to think before she spoke, so be it.

  “I know you are,” I said, keeping my voice calm and soft. “I also realize you almost certainly didn’t mean it that way …”

  “I didn’t. You know that!” For a moment, she glared at me before indicating that I should finish what I had been saying.

  “You’re right. I do know that. But it doesn’t matter what I know. The impression you make on customers is what’s important here.” I thought for a moment. “And honestly, I shouldn’t have to tell you that. Not after you’ve worked for me for three years.” I forced myself to stop talking. After all the time she’d been my assistant, she wouldn’t need any more clarification.

  Silence fell between us and lingered. I drank my wine while Claire took the stem of her glass between two fingers and twirled it, obviously lost in thought. When she nodded and looked up at me, her facial muscles relaxed; I almost slumped in relief. No matter how much her choice of words earlier that day had horrified me, I didn’t want to have a major fall out with her. She’d long since stopped being just my employee, and I was happy to count her among the few friends I still had.

  “You’re right,” Claire said just before the silence became uncomfortable. “The stupid thing is that I can’t even remember exactly what I said.” She brought her glass to her lips, limiting herself to a sip this time. “But if it could have been interpreted the way you did, I apologize. I hope you know me well enough to believe that I never meant to come across as prejudiced.”

  I smiled, hoping it would ease at least some of the lingering tension between us. “I’m well aware of that,” I confirmed. “That’s why it shocked me so much to hear you say what you did.” Unsure whether or not I wanted to hear the answer to my next question, I asked it anyway. “What possessed you to make that statement in the first place? You’re as qualified to deal with our customers, regardless of who they are shopping for, as I am.”

  If I’d thought she’d looked uncomfortable before, the horrified expression flashing across Claire’s face as she listened to me now gave the word a whole new meaning.

  “Can I plead the fifth?” She forced her mouth into a smile so fake it looked more like a grimace.

  “Nope,” I responded, keeping my tone light. “The fact that you asked only makes me more curious.” I didn’t add that scared would have been a better choice of words.

  She drained her glass before facing me. “As you said, I’ve been working for you for quite some time now, right?”

  I nodded, unsure where she was going with this.

  “And over those years, I’ve watched you thoroughly enjoy your shop and the service you provide for eleven months out of twelve.”

  This time I didn’t respond at all when she raised an eyebrow at me.

  Claire sighed. “I know it’s not my place, but I’ve come to see you as more than my employer. I like to think you’re my friend too.”

  Responding to that statement was a lot easier. “You are far more than just an employee or colleague, you know that.”

  “I do,” she said before lowering her voice so much I had to strain to hear the rest. “I just hope that will still be true after I stop talking.”

  My heart stuttered as what felt like cold fingers gripped it and filled me with dread. The words to tell her to keep whatever she wanted to say to herself, screamed in my head but, for reasons I didn’t understand, my mouth refused to form and speak them.

  “When you took me on,” Claire started talking hesitantly, “you were a broken man. I only found out later that your partner of five years had broken up with you on Valentine’s Day. It was even longer before you told me that you’d been planning to propose to him that night over dinner.”

  As she spoke, the images I had been trying to forget for the past thirty-six months sprang to life in my mind. I lowered my chin to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to keep the painful memories at bay.

  “You’d prepared his favorite food for dinner and placed a wrapped box, containing a ring, next to his plate.” Claire’s voice was barely more than a whisper yet contained so much compassion. “And he not only turned you down but also told you he was leaving you.”

  That hadn’t been the only thing he’d said. As if it had happened only days ago, I could still see the disgust in his eyes and hear the contempt in his voice as he made fun of my need for him. He’d called me a sissy, accused me of not being a man at all. “If I wanted to spend my time with a needy and weak creature,” he’d said, “I could have found myself a woman.”

  “I watched as two years in a row you disappeared as soon as the Christmas season came to an end, only to return once I and the part-timers had transformed the shop for the Valentine’s sales.” Claire took a deep breath and placed her hand on mine. “I’ve observed in silence as you hid in your office, as much as you could get away with both those years. And I understood. Your heart had been broken and you needed time to come to terms with it.”

  I forced myself to lift my head and face her, only to regret the decision immediately. The compassion in her eyes only made me feel worse, not better.

  “I know it’s not my place to make such a decision but, Ty, enough is enough. You have to stop allowing him to have such a hold on your life. You’re young, you have probably at least anothe
r fifty years ahead of you. You can’t spend all of those being miserable and lonely.”

  Claire stopped talking and seemed to expect a reaction from me. I had no answers for her though. Everything she’d said was true, but feelings, unfortunately, didn’t come with an on/off switch, and I had no idea how to return to the man I used to be: the man who’d enjoyed life, going out, and flirting. That version of me had died the day Henry walked away, leaving my heart shattered.

  Recognizing she wouldn’t get a response, Claire continued. “So when that customer walked in this morning, telling me he wanted help finding gifts for a man he’d been secretly admiring from a distance, I figured it could be a form of therapy for you. I hoped that through helping him you might find some of your own joy and curiosity again.” She laughed softly, but it didn’t sound happy. “Obviously, I not only overstepped several boundaries, I also misjudged the situation terribly. I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll deal with him from now on if that’s what you want.”

  “No.” The word escaped before I realized I was going to speak, never mind what I was about to say.

  “Sorry?” Claire’s confusion was as obvious as it was understandable.

  “I’m not saying you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready to go out and put my heart on the line again.” I sighed. “But, as much as I hate to admit it, you are probably right when you say I need to stop hiding. Not dating is one thing; refusing to deal with customers in my own shop is quite something else.” I mentally squared my shoulders. “I told him I’d help him come up with a few ideas tomorrow, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  A grin stretching almost from ear to ear erupted on Claire’s pretty face at the same time as the first doubts popped up in my head. Maybe I should have taken her up on her offer. Dealing with that customer, no matter how attractive and friendly he’d been, was bound to bring back all the memories I’d been trying so very hard to bury. I searched for the words to tell her that I’d changed my mind, but the combination of her obvious delight and my own stupid pride kept me tongue-tied.

  How bad can it be? He’s just looking for some fun token gifts that will help him break the ice. It’s fine. I can do this. The words were nice, but I failed to convince myself. I’d be faking it, unfortunately, without any hope of actually making it, but I would, somehow, help this man find what he was looking for. I could always fall apart afterward in the privacy of my own home.

  “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” Claire was almost gushing.

  “Let’s wait and see how I get through tomorrow before we start calling this a victory, okay?” I said. “And Claire?”

  She tilted her head, waiting for what was coming.

  “Next time you feel the need to interfere in how I live my life, talk to me before you drop me into a situation I can’t get out of without embarrassing myself.”

  “I promise I’ll never do anything like this again.” Claire blushed as she said the words, then got up and grabbed our glasses. “I’ll get us another drink. We need to celebrate this—the first day of the rest of your life.”

  As Claire walked to the bar, I pondered that celebrating was about the last thing the situation called for. Since I could do with another drink, just to help me over the shocking events of that day, I allowed her to get our refills, doing a mental inventory while I waited and concluding that I did have at least one full bottle of wine at home. I had a feeling I was going to need it.

  Chapter Three

  For the third time in as many minutes, I picked up my phone and scrolled to Claire’s number. With my finger poised to hit dial, I reconsidered. Calling in sick would be cowardly, not to mention that Claire would see right through me and any excuses I might come up with.

  I pushed the phone into the pocket of my jacket, picked up my keys, and headed for the door, my steps slow and heavy as if my shoes were filled with lead. Exhaustion made the prospect of the day ahead, and my encounter with a certain customer, even more daunting than it would have been if I had managed to get a good night’s sleep. As it was, I had tossed and turned from the moment I lay down to the moment I had to get up again. I’d be surprised if I’d managed to get a stretch of thirty minutes of solid sleep. The bottle of wine I’d managed to kill, before attempting to drift off, hadn’t helped either but did leave me feeling vaguely hung-over that morning.

  It was a relief to find boxes filled with new cards waiting for me when I walked into the shop. As much as I didn’t want to deal with the cute and oh so romantic greetings, putting them on the display shelves would keep me busy and my mind off a certain customer for a few hours at least. I walked to the back of the store to hang up my coat, running into Claire in the small kitchen.

  “Good morning.” She smiled at me brightly before frowning. “Are you okay? You’re not looking too chipper this morning.”

  “I’m fine,” I grumbled. “Didn’t sleep too well. That’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  Her short exclamation said a lot more than a single word should be able to convey. Clearly uncomfortable, she turned away from me and reached for two mugs, which she filled with coffee. “Why don’t you have this while I deal with the delivery?”

  “That’s okay,” I responded. “I’ll unpack the cards.”

  “But …” She looked at me helplessly.

  Forcing myself to ignore her unspoken question, I picked up my mug and returned to the still unopened boxes. Delaying the moment when I would actually have to deal with the contents, I drank my coffee first, feeling somewhat disgusted with myself when I noticed I was taking the smallest sips possible. Both my conscious and my subconscious mind were apparently trying to keep me from dealing with what I really didn’t want to face.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to take care of those?”

  Claire’s uncertain-sounding question was enough to pull me from the depths I’d sunk to. Mentally squaring my shoulders, I shook my head, got rid of my mug, and opened the first box.

  As hard as I tried, it was impossible not to take in the messages on those cards. The ones especially aimed at same sex couples captured my attention more than any of the others. Those had been few and far between three years ago. Back then, I’d been forced to improvise when I searched for the perfect card for Henry. Not that it had mattered of course. He hadn’t even opened the envelope … or the small box sitting on top of it.

  Cursing myself for the burning sensation in my eyes, I pushed the memories away. I couldn’t afford to get lost in my customary melancholy. Providing useful advice to that customer would be hard enough if I was in the best possible frame of mind. If I allowed myself to sink into my, by now, customary annual depression, I might as well give up before I even started.

  With a determination bordering on obsession, I counted the cards before placing them in the slots that had held Christmas and New Year’s cards until almost three weeks previously. I forced myself to establish a rhythm that didn’t allow time for me to take in the individual images and messages. Maybe I had been dealing with my aversion the wrong way until that moment; facing my demons head on might be a better strategy than hiding from them. Reluctantly, I allowed the thought that Claire might have made a good point when she forced me out of my shell to take hold. Not that I was inclined to say as much out loud, of course.

  “Does this mean you’ve decided a card is our first port of call?”

  I recognized the melodious, deep voice without having to look at the speaker. My knees creaked when I pushed up from my crouched position to face him.

  “Actually, I’d leave the card ‘til last.”

  He gave me a questioning look.

  “I think it’s easier to tie a card in with the present than the other way around,” I explained. “Let’s say you decide to keep all your presents jokey,” I continued. “In that case, you’d want a funny card to go with them, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Similarly, if your presents are such that they indicate your attraction, you
might want a card which is, at the very least, flirtatious.”

  His expression cleared. “That makes a whole lot of sense.” He smiled, the expression making his always handsome face even more attractive. “If I wasn’t glad I’d asked for help before now, that advice just told me how out of my depth I am. Thank you, Ty.”

  His use of my name took me by surprise. He would have heard Claire use it the day before, but I couldn’t help being flattered that he’d actually remembered. Of course, his knowledge put him at a distinct advantage over me.

  “And that reminds me, I never introduced myself.” He held out his hand. “I’m Ben Cronin.”

  I extended my own hand and shook his, appreciating his firm grip. “Ty O’Malley,” I responded.

  He didn’t release his grip on my hand for what seemed like several long moments. It should have made me uncomfortable, but felt so right, that I missed his touch when he eventually did let go.

  “Why don’t I show you around the shop and tell you about the items we stock first?” I hoped the question would distract him from how flustered I suddenly was. Get a grip. He’s looking for presents for a man he’s attracted to. The handshake doesn’t mean anything. For reasons I refused to explore, the thought came with an edge of sadness. “You never know,” I continued to fill the silence between us before it became uncomfortable. “It may give you an idea or two.”

  “Whatever you think is best.” He seemed to study me as he spoke. “I’m putting myself completely in your hands, as far as this project is concerned.”

  Wouldn’t mind getting my hands on you in other ways. The thought was so outrageous I almost laughed out loud. Trust me to find myself attracted for the first time in three years to a man who wasn’t available.

  “Follow me.” I walked us to the front of the shop, determined to keep going in the hope it would stop my mind from distracting me with inappropriate and unwelcome thoughts and ideas.