My Daddy Valentine (Be My Fake Valentine)

4. Ella

4

Ella

It’s been a few days, and I’m getting into the rhythm of things at the gallery. I have a routine now: arrive early, grab a coffee from the cafe across the street, and dive into the work. Margo’s been great about giving me tasks that challenge me but also help me learn. There’s always something to do, whether it’s organizing the upcoming exhibition, drafting emails to artists, or researching potential clients. And while it’s definitely been busy, I can tell I’m starting to get the hang of it.

The only thing that hasn’t gotten easier? Simon.

He’s impossible.

At least that’s how he seems to me. From the moment I walk in the door in the morning to the second I leave at night, he’s always around, lurking in the background. Always too busy to acknowledge me properly, always making sure I don’t get too comfortable. If he’s not giving me some cold, impersonal instruction, he’s barely saying anything at all. It’s like I’m invisible to him, and yet, he’s always there, watching, waiting.

I’ve tried to ignore it, to focus on my work. But every time our paths cross, it’s like a jolt runs through me. I can’t help it. He’s so... aloof. I don’t understand why he acts like he’s allergic to any kind of friendly interaction. He’s too professional, too closed off. And it drives me insane.

But for the most part, I’ve learned to just get by, head down, focus on what I came here to do.

Tonight, though, I’m done. I’m finally finishing up the last of the admin work for Margo’s latest show. The gallery is quiet, the lights low, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. I finish typing up a few last emails and pack up my things. I don’t know why, but I’m kind of excited to head home tonight. Maybe it’s because I’ve been doing so much work these past few days, or maybe it’s because I know I’ll get a chance to chat with Ava about how things are going.

As I stand up and gather my bag, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I freeze for a moment before turning around, half-expecting to see Simon. Sure enough, there he is, walking toward me.

He doesn’t look surprised to see me still here, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe? Or perhaps something else I can’t quite place. He doesn’t greet me, just nods once and then clears his throat.

“Heading out?” he asks, his voice slightly clipped.

“Yeah,” I reply, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Just wrapping up some stuff.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he says, sounding almost begrudging, as if the idea of walking anywhere with me is the last thing he wants to do.

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the catch is. Simon never seems to do anything without an ulterior motive, so I don’t buy it for a second that he just wants to walk with me.

I can’t help but ask, “You’re walking with me?”

He looks at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flash of something in his eyes. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. It’s late, and it’s not the safest time to be walking around alone.”

I blink, not sure whether I should be flattered or annoyed. It’s a weird thing for him to say, considering how little he’s spoken to me in the past few days. But I guess this is the Simon way—if he can’t be nice, at least he’s going to make sure I’m not in danger.

I chuckle lightly. “Well, I didn’t realize you cared.”

He doesn’t respond, just turns and starts walking, expecting me to follow. So, I do.

We fall into step beside each other, but the silence between us is thick, uncomfortable. I can feel the tension in the air, the unspoken words hanging like a cloud. I’ve never been good at silence, so I try to fill it.

“So,” I begin, glancing over at him. “How’s everything going with the gallery?”

He glances at me briefly, his eyes sharp and distant. “Busy. As always.”

I nod, my hands tightening around the straps of my bag. It’s the same curt answer he always gives me. If he wanted to talk about the gallery, he would. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t care about that conversation. He only seems interested in work when it suits him.

We walk in silence for a while longer, and I start to wonder if this is how it’s going to be every day. Me, trying to fill the space between us, and him, barely acknowledging my attempts.

We reach the entrance of the building where Ava and I live, and I can finally breathe a little easier. The door opens with a quiet click as I pull out my keys. But before I step inside, my phone rings in my bag.

I take it out, already knowing who it is.

“Kimmy,” I say with a smile, stepping back from the door. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ella!” my sister’s voice crackles through the phone. “I need you to help me with the wedding details! It’s coming up so soon, and I’m freaking out.”

I step out of the building to get a little more privacy. “I’m so excited for you, Kimmy! My little sister is getting married! Okay, so what’s going on? What do you need help with?”

I can hear her sigh in relief. “Okay, so the flowers... I can’t decide between roses or peonies. And I’m not sure what kind of cake to go with. Do you think lemon or chocolate would be better?”

My mind starts racing with thoughts of her wedding. It’s been a whirlwind for her, and she’s been leaning on me a lot lately. I want to be there for her, even though we’re so far apart.

“Well, I think peonies would be gorgeous,” I say, walking further down the street. “And the cake... both sound amazing. Maybe we can do a little tasting when I visit next week? I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

Kimmy laughs. “Thanks, Ella. You’re the best. You’re still coming, right? I need my maid of honor to be there to keep me calm.”

I smile, my heart swelling. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”

Simon stands in the doorway, staring at me as I speak to Kimmy. He doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt, but I can feel his gaze on me, sharp and intense. I lower my voice slightly, trying to keep the conversation private. “Yeah, I’ll be there. We’ll figure out the last-minute details soon. I’ve got some things to do here, but we’ll talk again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Kimmy says, sounding relieved. “Love you, Ella.”

“Love you too,” I reply, ending the call and slipping my phone back into my pocket.

Simon’s eyes are still fixed on me, and I wonder if he overheard everything. I didn’t exactly try to keep my voice down.

“So... wedding stuff,” he says, his tone slightly dry. “Your sister getting married?”

I nod, feeling suddenly awkward under his gaze. “Yeah. Kimmy’s getting married soon. I’m the maid of honor. It’s... kind of a big deal.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can tell he’s processing what I just said. It’s weird, this shift in our dynamic. He’s never shown an interest in my life— my life outside of the gallery. And yet here we are, standing at the door of the building, talking about my sister’s wedding.

“That’s... nice,” he says finally, his voice a little softer than usual, though still guarded.

I glance at him, confused. “Yeah, it is. I’m really excited about it.”

He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair, then turns to head inside. “Well, enjoy your evening. Don’t stay out too late. You’ve got work tomorrow.”

I blink, thrown off by his abruptness. “Right. See you tomorrow.”

As I step into the building, I can’t help but wonder why he seemed... almost interested in the details of my sister’s wedding. It’s strange. He’s always so closed off, so focused on work. But just for a moment, it felt like something else—something more human was in that conversation.

I shake my head, pushing the thought aside. He’s still Mr. Grumpy Mentor, after all.

But for the first time, I find myself wondering if there’s more to him than I’ve realized.