“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. That’s all anyone can ask for.”
“Really? Because when I was growing up, you made it 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.
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 filled 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, palm trees blew 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 a guy stepped 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 owned a comic book store. That was all I’d known about him.
Her parents thought he was a loser.
Her grandparents changed their tune, said Valentine was wasting her life.
I could hear her arguing with them, but I couldn’t look at her.
I got up from 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.
I stopped for a minute on the front lawn, trying to catch my breath.
Instead, my mom caught up with me.
“Micah.”
I turned to her.
I guessed everything I was feeling must’ve shown because her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Mom embraced me, and I held on as tight as I could. Tears burned in my eyes and throat until I knew 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.
Chapter Six
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 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.
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, I still didn’t totally trust him not to hurt me.
I snorted bitterly. I still didn’t completely trust anyone not to hurt me.
Sometimes I didn’t even trust myself.
It was hard to after I’d thrown myself into one romantic relationship after the other, hoping to forget the object of my unrequited love. I guessed I thought if I was enthusiastic enough that I would really fall in love with one of them. I talked myself into being in love with my ex-husband, Louis. But Louis turned out to be a giant man-child. And he cheated on me. The only good thing to come from that relationship was Mindy.
I’d met my best friend Mindy at one of Louis’s theme nights at the comic store. We both loved retro clothing, and we both designed and created our own. It took us a few years to save and get our finances in place, but we finally opened our dream boutique clothing store.
And it was an enormous hit in the neighborhood. Plus, we made a killing because of our large Instagram following. We’d had to employ a small team of seamstresses and admin staff just to help us fulfill our online orders.
I’d proven my parents and Micah wrong. While I’d cut my parents out of my life after my marriage (and subsequent divorce), Micah had cut me out of his. For a while, I wondered (hoped?) that maybe my feelings weren’t unrequited, and he was angry and hurt. Like the way he’d look at me sometimes … or the night at prom when I could’ve sworn he was going to kiss me. And the way he reacted to Dillan, the idiot boss I had a short fling with.
After Micah had left that day and I’d calmed down, I wondered if it was jealousy that made him lash out. I went back and forth, arguing with myself that what I’d felt from him in those moments was real versus me just projecting my unrequited feelings onto him.
Mom finally solved my inner turmoil by giving me the cold, hard truth about Micah.
During one of my many arguments with her, she’d yelled at me that even Micah didn’t want me in his life because I was too similar to how his mom used to be. Unpredictable, unreliable, and a screwup.
A screwup.
That was what he had called me.
And it hurt.
I couldn’t even tell you how much that hurt to hear my mother repeat it all over again.
Mom tried to apologize. To say she didn’t mean it.
People who loved each other said hurtful things in the heat of the moment. But my problem with my mom was that it happened too damn much to be healthy.
Fuck, it killed, but I had to cut those ties.
Just like Micah cut his ties with me.
So why couldn’t I let him go?
My life was good! I had my own business at twenty-six, a successful one.
Why did I care if Micah was sexier than ever or laughing in the Commons with his model-like girlfriend of the hour? Though, to be fair, this one had been around longer than the others. According to his Instagram, the elegant “E” had been in his life for six months.
E was exactly Micah’s type. Tall, stunning, brunette, and according to his comments about her, very smart.
What he considered my opposite.
He was right about everything but the smarts. I was way over letting people make me think I wasn’t intelligent just because I wasn’t academic. And I might not be stunning, but I wasn’t exactly hard to look at. Some guys liked the whole adorable, curvy, quirky thing I had going on.