Page 19 of You Had Me At Valentine

“And you kept it? All this time?”

Now I do look at her because I need her to understand this much at least. “I kept a lot of things, Lyra.”

The music plays on, but we’re not dancing anymore. She stares at the silver pendant?a constellation of tiny stars arranged in a cascade?emotions chasing across her face. Confusion. Understanding.

Something that feels dangerously like anticipation unfurls in me.

“Why are you giving it to me now?” she asks.

Because watching her fight for this inn makes me think about things I gave up in pursuit of what I thought was best for everyone. She makes me think about my choices and what my life has become without her in it.

Cold.

But first and foremost, because the pendant is the anti-Valentine’s Day card. It doesn’t prove anything one way or the other. There are no incriminating phrases scrawled across it. It’s only what she makes of it.

“It was always meant to be yours,” I say instead of everything else clawing to be free of my throat. “Think of it as a late graduation present.”

She lifts the pendant from its bag with trembling fingers. “Will you help me?”

“Turn around.”

She does, gathering her hair to one side. I fasten the delicate chain around her neck, and no, I’m not quite as ham-handed as I pretend to be, but missing this opportunity to let my fingers brush across her skin is not happening.

When she faces me again, the stars sparkle at her throat.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I nod, not trusting my voice. Because the pendant looks exactly like I imagined it would all those years ago. Because she’s looking at me the way she used to?like I’m worth something.

And because I know this moment can’t last.

The song ends, the needle lifting with a soft click that breaks the spell. Lyra steps back, one hand going to the pendant.

“We should get back to work,” she says. “The other songs aren’t going to pick themselves.”

“Right.” I clear my throat. “Party planning is life.”

She moves to switch off the turntable, and I retrieve my phone, desperate for a distraction. But I can’t focus on email or a playlist or anything on my agenda any better now than I could an hour ago.

Not when she’s standing there with starlight around her throat, her fingers touching the pendant like she’s afraid it might disappear.

Not gonna lie, I thought she might not accept it. Or she would take it and toss it straight into the nearest trash can.

The fact that she’s wearing it tromps all over my insides like a leprechaun wearing spiked boots.

“Remember when we used to sneak in here late at night?” she asks suddenly. “After your shift at Kilt Valley Café?”

My heart lurches. That’s like asking the thunderclouds if they remember how to make rain. “You mean when you used to convince me to break into the inn?”

“I had a key.” But her smile is pure mischief. “Besides, Gran knew. She left cookies for us sometimes.”

“I always wondered about that.” I lean against the table, watching her. “If I’d have known it was a sanctioned activity, I would have broken the rules a lot more.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not breaking the rules if it’s sanctioned, silly.”

No. And I’m not a rule breaker at heart. Or we’d be in a much different situation than the current one.

My lungs squeeze as I envision what our lives might have been like if I hadn’t left.

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