Page 36 of Texting My Valentine

He laughs again. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

The way he’s smiling at me makes me feel special. It makes me feel like the only woman in the world he cares about. Suddenly, I forget those photos of him with other women, and my mind playing tricks.

“I should probably serve…”

“Don’t worry about that.” Suddenly, Rowan appears with a knowing grin on her face. “In fact, Tori, you’re overdue a quick break. Take five.”

“Are you sure?”

Rowan glares at me. “Take five. It’s an order!”

I walk around the bar, noticing Alex’s eyes moving up and down my body before settling on my face.

Tori, keep your defenses up.I can’t end up as Mom 2.0.

We go to a booth in the corner. I’m aware of how close he stands to me as we walk. I’m pretty sure I can feel his heat, too, or maybe that’s just my overactive mind doing its work again.

Sitting down, he leans forward with a smile, his eyes sparkling, making him look somehow younger… not that he needs to look younger. He seems so interested in me. Or is ‘obsessed’ a better word, and is that a good thing?

I open the package, wrapped in brown paper, a smile lighting up my face when I see what’s inside—a leather-bound notebook with words inscribed on the front.Your imagination awaits…There’s a pen too.

“I recognize this brand name,” I mutter, picking the pen up.

He nods. “It’s a good pen. Hopefully, it’ll help yourcharactercome to the right conclusion.”

I flip the lid off and open the notebook. This is the most special and romantic thing anybody has ever done for me, which, weirdly, is why the need to play this cool is even more urgent than before. I draw a table and two columns, putting headings above each.

To Love.

Not To Love.

“That is the question,” he mutters when I show him.

“Thank you, Alex,” I say. “Seriously, it means a lot. It’s very nice of you.”

“What are Valentine’s for?” he replies.

Love bombing a younger woman? Messing with her head and heart? Or am I the one messing with myself by feeding this sick notion?

“How’s Elliot doing?” I ask.

He gets this strange look and turns his gaze away. Some might call that suspicious.

“He’s fine,” he says quietly.

“How old is he?”

“Ten.”

“And when did his parents… you know?”

“Two years ago. That was when he came to live with me.”

Sure, or maybe you had one too many drinks and thought a sob story would be the best way to get and keep my interest, hisses a voice in my head.

“What’s he like?”

“He’s… normal,” Alex says after a pause. “He likes LEGO and video games. And hanging out with his friends. He’s just a normal kid.”

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