Page 6 of My Daddy Valentine

I shove my hands into my pockets and try to steady my breathing.

I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep letting her get under my skin.

Ella is here to learn. She’s an intern, and I’m her mentor. That’s all this is.

And no matter how beautiful she is, no matter how much she rattles my thoughts, I can’t lose my focus.

I can’t let her be a distraction.

I’ve got work to do.

And right now, that’s all I can think about.

4

Ella

It’s been a few days, and I’m getting into the rhythm of things at the gallery. I have a routine now: arrive early, grab a coffee from the cafe across the street, and dive into the work. Margo’s been great about giving me tasks that challenge me but also help me learn. There’s always something to do, whether it’s organizing the upcoming exhibition, drafting emails to artists, or researching potential clients. And while it’s definitely been busy, I can tell I’m starting to get the hang of it.

The only thing that hasn’t gotten easier?Simon.

He’s impossible.

At least that’s how he seems to me. From the moment I walk in the door in the morning to the second I leave at night, he’s always around, lurking in the background. Always too busy to acknowledge me properly, always making sure I don’t get too comfortable. If he’s not giving me some cold, impersonal instruction, he’s barely saying anything at all. It’s like I’m invisible to him, and yet, he’s always there, watching, waiting.

I’ve tried to ignore it, to focus on my work. But every time our paths cross, it’s like a jolt runs through me. I can’t help it. He’s so... aloof. I don’t understand why he acts like he’s allergic to any kind of friendly interaction. He’stooprofessional, too closed off. And it drives me insane.

But for the most part, I’ve learned to just get by, head down, focus on what I came here to do.

Tonight, though, I’m done. I’m finally finishing up the last of the admin work for Margo’s latest show. The gallery is quiet, the lights low, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. I finish typing up a few last emails and pack up my things. I don’t know why, but I’m kind of excited to head home tonight. Maybe it’s because I’ve been doing so much work these past few days, or maybe it’s because I know I’ll get a chance to chat with Ava about how things are going.

As I stand up and gather my bag, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I freeze for a moment before turning around, half-expecting to see Simon. Sure enough, there he is, walking toward me.

He doesn’t look surprised to see me still here, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe? Or perhaps something else I can’t quite place. He doesn’t greet me, just nods once and then clears his throat.

“Heading out?” he asks, his voice slightly clipped.

“Yeah,” I reply, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Just wrapping up some stuff.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he says, sounding almost begrudging, as if the idea of walking anywhere with me is the last thing he wants to do.

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the catch is. Simon never seems to do anything without an ulterior motive, so I don’t buy it for a second that he just wants to walk with me.

I can’t help but ask, “You’re walking with me?”

He looks at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flash of something in his eyes. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. It’s late, and it’s not the safest time to be walking around alone.”

I blink, not sure whether I should be flattered or annoyed. It’s a weird thing for him to say, considering how little he’s spoken to me in the past few days. But I guess this is the Simon way—if he can’t be nice, at least he’s going to make sure I’m not in danger.

I chuckle lightly. “Well, I didn’t realize you cared.”

He doesn’t respond, just turns and starts walking, expecting me to follow. So, I do.

We fall into step beside each other, but the silence between us is thick, uncomfortable. I can feel the tension in the air, the unspoken words hanging like a cloud. I’ve never been good at silence, so I try to fill it.

“So,” I begin, glancing over at him. “How’s everything going with the gallery?”

He glances at me briefly, his eyes sharp and distant. “Busy. As always.”

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