Page 16 of My Daddy Valentine

“So, tell me about your family,” Simon says suddenly, breaking the tension. “You mentioned your sister Kimmy’s wedding... tell me about her.”

I turn my head slightly to look at him, surprised by the question. I thought Simon would be more focused on the task at hand, not trying to get to know my family dynamics. But then again, maybe he’s just doing his job—playing the role of the boyfriend, getting the details so he canactlike he knows me.

“My sister Kimmy’s always been the one who gets all the attention,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “She’s perfect. Gorgeous, charming, and has always known exactly what she wants in life. She’s marrying... Mark, a guy she met in college. He’s kind of a golden boy, you know? Well-liked, successful, the whole package.” I laugh softly, but it’s not entirely amused. “I’ve always felt a little in the shadows when it comes toher. My parents love her, of course. But then there’s me. The art-loving, ‘wild child’ of the family.”

I glance at Simon, unsure if he’s taking me seriously or just going through the motions. He doesn’t say anything at first, just nods, as if processing the information.

“You don’t think you get enough attention?” he asks, his voice thoughtful.

I shake my head. “Not from my father, no. He’s always been too busy with his galleries to really notice what I do. He’s always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, take over one of his businesses, maybe start my own. But I... I don’t want that. I want to do things my way. But he doesn’t get it. So, I’ve always had to prove myself. To him, to everyone.”

Simon’s eyes flick to me again, and this time there’s something there—something more than just professional curiosity. There’s a flicker of understanding, maybe even a little admiration.

“You’re doing the right thing,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Not everyone understands what you’re doing, but you’ve got to stick to your guns. Art’s a real career. You’re proving that, every day.”

I nod, grateful for his words, even though part of me knows it’s just the role he’s playing. Still, it’s nice to hear someone—anyone—validate my choices, even if it’s just for show.

We drive in silence for a few more minutes, and I can feel my nerves starting to settle just a little. But then, just as I think I’ve got myself under control, Simon speaks again.

“So, what about your mom?” he asks. “What’s she like?”

I think about that for a moment. “My mom is... complicated. She’s always been more supportive of my art, but even she’s never fully understood why I won’t just accept the life my father wants for me. She’s... she’s a bit of a dreamer, like me. But sometimes I feel like she’s more content with being in the background, letting my father take the lead.”

“I can imagine that’s frustrating,” Simon says, and this time I can tell he’s truly listening.

“It is,” I admit. “But I’m used to it. I’ve always felt like the outsider in my own family. Even though they love me, they don’t reallyseeme. They don’t understand me, not the way I want to be understood.”

I glance at Simon, and for a split second, I wonder if he understands. I wonder if he sees me the way I wish my family would.

But I quickly push the thought aside. That’s not why we’re here.

We’re here to play a part.

We’re here to convince my father, to show him that I’m not just living off his name, that I’m capable of standing on my own.

“You’ll be fine,” Simon says, his voice suddenly softer. “You’ve got this. I’m here to help, remember?”

I nod, feeling a little lighter than I did when we started this drive. Maybe it’s because of the way he says it—so matter-of-fact, like he’s already committed to the role. Or maybe it’s because, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m alone in this.

The resort comes into view, towering in the distance like something out of a fairy tale. The sprawling grounds, the glinting pools, the majestic entrance—it all looks so grand. But I can’tshake the feeling that this is just the beginning of something far more complicated than I ever imagined.

Simon pulls in, and I’m suddenly more aware of the closeness between us. He’s not nervous. Not at all. But I am. I’m jittery, unsure of what’s about to happen, whether this plan is going to work, or if I’m making a huge mistake.

But as we park and he turns off the engine, he leans over and looks at me, his eyes locking onto mine.

“You’re not alone in this,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

I nod, feeling something shift inside me. Maybe it’s the nerves. Or maybe it’s the fact that Simon’s right—he’s here, and I don’t have to face my family alone.

For a moment, I wonder if this whole thing is going to be as fake as we say it is. But the thought is fleeting. I can’t afford to overthink it.

I just need to get through the weekend.

With Simon by my side.

11

Simon

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