Page 60 of Not Your Valentine
“Instead,” I say, “you made me chocolate-chip pancakes.”
“Yeah, I knew the timing was all wrong. Even a few months later, I doubted you’d want anything more, and I was afraid I’d only developed feelings for you because I was scared of being alone. I didn’t let myself talk to you any more than usual, in case you saw through it.”
I definitely didn’t see through anything.
“But my feelings didn’t go away,” he says, “and then you asked me to be your so-called boyfriend. I wouldn’t have done that for any friend who asked, you know.”
“No?”
He gives his head a little shake. “And the more time I spent with you…well…”
It’s not me. It’s you.
But despite what happened to me, I have no trouble believing Taylor…because it’s Taylor. We’ve known each other for a long time, but neither of us thought we could be together like this until recently.
I guess my plan was brilliant after all.
“A couple of times,” he says, “I nearly told you, but I chickened out—I didn’t want to have my hopes dashed. After Valentine’s, I decided to finally say something the next time I saw you, but then you didn’t want to go on another date. I couldn’t bring myself to ask on the phone because I was convinced you’d say no.”
“What changed your mind?”
“You’re just…you’re amazing, Helen, and I had to know for sure.” He pauses. “I love that you only smile when you truly mean it. I love that you really care for your family, even if it’s not immediately obvious to everyone, and that you’re mushier on the inside than most people know. I love that you honestly wanted a cake shaped like a human heart. I love the expression on your face when you eat a particularly squeaky cheese curd, and I love that you named your fish Lucifer.”
I’ve lost my ability to speak, so I wrap my arms tightly around him and kiss him again and again. My hands slip under the hem of his shirt, but I won’t go any further than that…for now.
Before I take him to the bedroom, I want to eat some cake. I cut an awkwardly shaped slice of heart, place it on a plate, and try a forkful. It is, as he said, red velvet, and the frosting tastes like cream cheese although it doesn’t look like it, since it’s been dyed a suitable color.
“I’m very impressed.” I slide a bite into his mouth. “But next time, you can make me a regular heart-shaped cake. I’ll give you my springform pan.”
“Can I put heart-shaped sprinkles on it?” he asks with an adorable level of enthusiasm.
“Don’t test your luck,” I mutter, and he laughs.
His expression is much less drawn than when he came here, and he can’t seem to stop touching me. I don’t mind, of course. I might not be the most happy-go-lucky of women, but I have no doubt that he likes me as I am.
“I really am sorry,” I say. “I should have said something rather than ending it.”
“It’s okay. Neither of us said anything then, but we’re here now.” He takes my hand in his. “I promise to do my best not to hurt you, and I also promise I won’t do anything big in public, including big positive things. I know you’d hate that.”
He’s right. I would.
Is this a promise that he’ll never propose to me in public? It’s too early to think about proposing, but maybe one day.
The thought doesn’t fill me with dread. And I trust him not to treat me like my ex did…and I also believe our relationship could survive something unexpected. He is, after all, my oldest friend, and he’s always been there for me.
I can’t help wondering what would have happened if we’d figured this out earlier, before I met Charlie, but then I brush aside the thought. As he said, we’re here now, and that’s what matters. I don’t find that sentiment unbearably sappy; it’s different with him, this man who made me fantasize about bowling shoes, and who sent me the most gorgeous vase of flowers.
I’ll have to post to the group chat and tell Whitney, Jasmeet, and Esther that everything worked out, even if my cake was inedible. It’s only late February, and already the year has been more eventful than I anticipated, but I’m not complaining anymore.
I swipe a bit of frosting off Taylor’s cake and slide my finger into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around my finger and sucks it clean.
I release an unsteady breath.
“You know what?” I pull him toward the bedroom. “The rest of the cake can wait.”
Epilogue
My phone vibrates. I figure I could use a break from chopping vegetables, so I wipe my hands on my apron and pull the phone out of my pocket.
