Page 9 of My Secret Valentine

“Steve? Got a minute?”

Claire's mother, Margaret, stands bundled in her winter coat, grocery bags in hand. My stomach tightens. After last night's interrupted moment with Lainey, seeing my late wife's mother feels like some sort of cosmic joke.

“Of course.” I take her bags without asking, falling into step beside her. “Early shopping?”

“Book club tonight. My turn to host.” She's quiet for a few steps, then: “We miss seeing you and Maddie at Sunday dinners.”

The guilt twists deeper. We haven't been to her house in three weeks. “With the new schedule around here, it’s been a challenge to get into a new routine.”

“The new nanny, you mean.”

I almost miss a step. “Lainey's been good for Maddie.”

“So I've heard.” Margaret stops walking, turning to face me. Her expression is gentle but determined. “The whole town's heard, Steve.”

“There's nothing to hear.” The words come out automatically, rehearsed.

“Isn't there?” She touches my arm, and suddenly I'm transported back five years, to the day of Claire's funeral when this woman held me while I broke down. “Steve, honey, Claire would want you to be happy.”

“Don't.” My voice cracks. “Please.”

Her face softens. “I just want you to know it's okay. To be happy again. To let someone in.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Because you won't let it be.” She reclaims her grocery bags. “Think about what I said. And bring Maddie by soon. John's building her a dollhouse. He thought she’d like it for Valentine’s Day.”

I watch her walk away, her words echoing in my head. By the time I make it back to the house, my coffee is cold and my thoughts are a damn mess.

Inside, I find Lainey and Maddie at the kitchen counter, heads bent over what looks like an art project. Paint and glitter cover every available surface.

“Daddy, look!” Maddie holds up a paper covered in swirls of blue and silver. “It's the storm from last night!”

“Beautiful.” I meet Lainey's eyes over Maddie's head. She looks away first, a flush creeping up her neck.

“I should clean this up,” she says, starting to gather supplies. “You probably need the countertop.”

“No rush.” I step closer, drawn by some magnetic force I can't resist. “I like seeing it used for something besides my laptop and coffee cups.”

Her hands still on a jar of glitter. “About last night, I shouldn’t have let things get out of hand.”

“Daddy, can Lainey come to Grandma's for Sunday dinner?” Maddie interrupts, oblivious to the tension. “Grandma makes the best cookies.”

“I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart.” The words come out before I can stop them.

Lainey's face falls for just a moment before she masks it. “She's right, Maddie. Sunday dinner should be family time.”

“But you're family,” Maddie says and by the expression on her face she was about to say more, but Lainey cuts her off with forced cheerfulness.

“Hey, why don't you go wash up? You've got glitter on your face.”

Once Maddie's gone, the silence stretches between us like a living thing.

“We should talk,” Lainey finally says, echoing my words from last night.

“Yes.”

“Somewhere private?”

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