Page 4 of My Secret Valentine

We've been at this for twenty minutes. The kitchen counter is scattered with pencil shavings and eraser dust, evidence of her growing frustration. Outside, the late afternoon sun makes the snow-capped mountains glow.

“Five more minutes,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Then we can take a break.”

“No.” She pushes the paper away. “I hate fractions. I hate school.”

“Hey.” I catch the worksheet before it falls. “What's really going on?”

She slumps in her chair, lower lip trembling. “Jenny said I was stupid today because I couldn't figure the math out in class.”

My heart aches. I remember being seven, how one cruel comment could ruin everything. “Jenny's wrong. You're not stupid. You just learn differently than she does.”

“Dad never has trouble with math.” Her voice is small. “He does big numbers all day.”

“Your dad's had years of practice. And I bet he struggled with fractions when he was seven too.”

The sound of a door closing upstairs makes us both look up. Steve appears in the kitchen doorway, home earlier than usual. He's still in his work clothes, but his tie is loosened, hair slightly disheveled like he's been running his hands through it.

“Everything okay?” he asks, taking in the scene.

“We're having a fraction emergency,” I explain, watching Maddie from the corner of my eye. “I was just about to tell Maddie about how terrible I was at math in school.”

His eyebrows rise slightly, catching on. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Total disaster. But you know what helped me?” I pull out my phone and open the timer app. “Games. Want to try one?”

Maddie nods cautiously.

“Okay. We've got two minutes to solve three problems. If we do it, we get a break. If we don't...” I glance at Steve. “Your dad has to do a silly dance.”

“What?” His laugh is surprised, genuine.

“Deal,” Maddie says immediately, sitting up straighter.

We don't quite make it in two minutes, and Steve, bless him, actually does the dance. It's awkward and endearing and has Maddie giggling so hard she nearly falls off her chair. The tension breaks, and when we return to the problems, she solves them with renewed focus.

Later, after Maddie's in bed, I find Steve in the kitchen. He's making tea, the fancy kind that comes in little silk bags. I’m a little surprised that he’s a tea drinker. I’d have expected him to have a bourbon or something like that. A serious, manly drink.

“Want some?” he offers, reaching for another cup.

“Please.” I lean against the counter, suddenly aware that we're alone. “Sorry about the dance thing. I hope that was okay.”

“It worked, didn't it?” He slides a cup toward me, steam curling between us. “You're good with her.”

“She's a great kid.” I wrap my hands around the warm cup. “She just needs to know it's okay to struggle sometimes.”

He studies me over the rim of his cup. “You sound like you're speaking from experience.”

“Let's just say school wasn't always easy for me either.” I take a sip of tea to hide whatever my face might be revealing. “But I had people who helped me find my own way of learning.”

“Like turning everything into a game?”

“Among other things.”

We stand in comfortable silence, drinking tea. The kitchen is dim, lit only by the light above the stove. It feels intimate in a way that makes my skin prickle.

“I should go call my mom,” I say finally. “I promised I'd check in.”

He nods. “Lainey?”

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