Page 37 of Never Your Valentine

That’s the moment that the door swings open and a gorgeous stranger walks through it. He’s in his forties, with skin that looks airbrushed, eyes that look photoshopped, and a hundred-dollar haircut. We all swivel our heads to watch him slide out of his expensive coat. He approaches the bar with the kind of ease that says he’s never once worried about whether he’s having an impact. He just knows.

We look back at each other and crack up laughing.

“There you go.” Sophie flourishes her hand over my club outfit. “It’s like you knew he was coming.”

“I’m already regretting wearing this,” I tell her. “Don’t make it worse.”

“She’s kidding,” Lia says. “We’d never let you date Ted Ender.”

I watch him make a big show of waving a twenty around before dropping it in the tip jar. “What is he?” I ask. “Lumber baron? Real estate mogul?”

“Evil developer,” June says.

I nod. “Figured it was something like that.”

Sophie tilts her head and squints at him. “Guy like that? You just know he’s selfish in bed.”

“How can you tell?” I mean, I agree, but I’m a bit in awe of Sophie’s radar.

“I just can.” She knocks her shoulder against mine. “But if you want to go talk to him, I mean, dressed like that, he might⁠—”

“No thank you.” I stay firmly planted in my chair. “Been there, done that. Mine was a banker.”

I met Magnus a few months after Nana died, during a period I now like to call my “sad sweater phase.” Seriously, I think I bought four gray sweaters that year. I was existing on low-power mode. No jokes. No art. Nothing but seriousness.

But somehow, Magnus liked that version of me. He praised me for being sensible. For being calm. For being classy. He actually used that word. Classy. What kind of man says that out loud?

It was just as much my fault as his. What was I thinking? I was in the middle of mourning and I decided that was the time to start a relationship? But dammit, I was all alone. My college friends had drifted away, and all I had was Kat, who was more of a work bestie than a ride-or-die.

Magnus came with a huge social circle I thought I could fit into. He seemed so solid, too, with a proper grown-up career that made my receptionist job look like kids’ play. He was a compliance officer at a bank. He loved spending his days telling people they were wrong. That should have been a huge red flag right there, but I was vulnerable, and didn’t know what I wanted, and thought it was him.

As time went on, and I started getting happier, Magnus got less happy with me. He hated the way I’d give voices to the animals in the park. Apparently, “This pigeon wants to speak to the manager of bread crumbs,” isn’t a clever joke. And it’s also not funny when you’re cuddling on the couch and suddenly the blanket becomes a monster that eats you in a thrashing, horror movie take-down. That’s called, “ruining the show we were watching.” A kiddie pool in the back yard? Okay to sit next to. Not okay to sit in. Even if you bring a super photogenic umbrella drink with you and get the most likes you’ve ever gotten on your Instagram page. That was just childish.

In the end, it was a dignified break-up. Classy, even. Which suited Magnus just fine and left me feeling empty. I didn’t want drama, but I wanted closure. Some emotion. Some regret. Some acknowledgement that we were bad for each other and were better off apart. Which we were. Totally. But it would have been nice to have a conversation instead of a “we should end this” text.

Yep. We broke up over text. Gross.

Also gross that I’d lost so much of myself in that relationship. How could I let myself do that? Putting myself back together again was harder than I thought it would be.

At our table, they’re still talking shit about Ender, who’s sharing cocktails and conversation with two other men at the bar.

I have a flash of the night I met Grant. The men from Solduxe. How Grant took them down a peg without ever interacting with them. How we had our hilarious mime show across the room. How it felt so easy. So natural.

“I wonder if there’s a way to—” I stop myself, feeling my cheeks heat when I realize I’ve spoken out loud. No. There isn’t a way to get back to that moment of ease. Not with the scarred-for-life man who’s renting my building.

“A way to what?” June asks.

“A way to… find someone better,” I say, opening Hinge on my phone.

“Be careful with that,” Sophie says. “You’re new in town. You’re fresh meat.”

“Don’t care,” I say. “The next remotely suitable guy I see? I’m swiping right.”

Chapter 14

Grant

The Break doesn’t have any clients today, so I spend the afternoon sorting out the storage room and giving the floors a complete sweep. I’m taking out the trash when a dark sedan creeps into the side lot and Luther Detro gets out. I’m about to tell him we’re closed, but he’s heading to the wrong entrance. He stands outside the door to the apartment stairs and takes out his phone.