My Daddy Valentine (Be My Fake Valentine)

16. Ella

16

Ella

The wedding is beautiful. It’s everything Kimmy could have dreamed of—elegant, flawless, and full of the kind of love and joy you only see in the movies. The ceremony is held in a massive, ornate hall on the resort’s grounds, with towering columns and delicate chandeliers that glisten like diamonds. The guests are dressed to perfection, the flowers are immaculate, and the sunlight filtering through the tall windows makes everything feel almost too perfect.

I can’t help but smile as I watch Kimmy and Mark exchange vows. I’m happy for her. I really am. She deserves this, all of it—the perfect guy, the perfect wedding. And in some strange way, it makes me feel like I’m doing the right thing. I’m playing my part, standing beside Simon as my fake boyfriend, showing my father that I’m not just his little girl, that I can make my own choices, that I’m serious about what I want.

But here’s the thing—I never expected it to feel like this.

I never expected to feel this connected to Simon.

As the ceremony unfolds, I catch glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye. He’s standing tall, confident, and with his usual composed expression. He’s the perfect gentleman, exactly what I needed for this charade. But there’s something more to it. I can’t stop thinking about him. The way he held me last night. The way he whispered my name when he came inside me. It’s real, right?

The moment Kimmy and Mark exchange their first kiss as husband and wife, I can’t help but feel a flutter of jealousy twist in my chest. It’s ridiculous. I don’t want to feel like this. I can’t feel like this. But there it is, undeniable and raw.

As the guests move to the reception area, Simon and I walk side by side. He’s as composed as ever, but I’m acutely aware of every little detail—the way his hand rests against my lower back as we navigate through the crowd, the warmth of his body just inches from mine. It’s a strange mix of being incredibly comfortable and yet way too aware of how much I want him. But I push the thought down, telling myself to focus on the role we’re playing.

After we’ve mingled for a while and the first dance is underway, Ava finds me at the edge of the dance floor. She gives me a knowing look, her eyes glinting with mischief. I know what’s coming.

“Okay, spill,” she says, pulling me away from the crowd. “How’s it going? Are you two actually pulling this off, or is your dad going to figure it out before dessert?”

I bite my lip, a little unsure of how to answer. The truth is, I’m not sure how to separate what’s real from what’s fake anymore. Simon’s been incredible—playing his part flawlessly, being the perfect boyfriend when my father’s around, holding my hand and pretending to care. But every time we’re alone, every time he touches me, I feel it. The connection is undeniable, and I can’t keep pretending it’s all just a game.

“It’s... fine,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, though the words feel strange in my mouth. “I mean, no one’s figured it out yet. It’s working for now.”

Ava raises an eyebrow. “You sure? I mean, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Are you sure he’s just pretending, or is there more to it?”

I try not to let the warmth spreading through my chest show. “We’re both pretending. It’s just for the weekend, for my father. He’s still not convinced, so I need to keep playing along.”

But as I say the words, something in my chest tightens. I want to tell Ava how much I’m feeling this. I want to admit that the way Simon looks at me makes my heart race, makes my stomach flutter. I want to tell her that last night, when we were alone in our room, everything felt real. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to pull away when he kissed me, when he touched me, when he made love to me. But I hold my tongue, because I know how crazy it sounds.

Ava looks at me with a skeptical expression, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she glances over my shoulder toward the reception hall, where my father is standing, engaged in a conversation with some guests.

“I’m just saying,” Ava continues, her voice lowered, “it’s a little suspicious that no one’s figured it out yet. I mean, you two are way too comfortable with each other. You sure your dad doesn’t know what’s up?”

I glance over at my father, and I can see the subtle glances he’s giving us throughout the evening. His gaze lingers on Simon longer than I’d like, and I know he’s been watching for signs that this whole thing isn’t real. But so far, we’ve managed to keep up the facade. Simon’s been perfect—charming, confident, playing his part to a tee. But my father’s not an idiot.

“I don’t know,” I admit, trying to sound casual. “I think he’s suspicious, but he’s still buying it. He doesn’t have proof, so...”

Ava nods thoughtfully, but before she can say anything more, my father’s voice cuts through the conversation.

“Ella,” he calls from across the room, his voice sharp and commanding. I turn to find him standing with Simon, an expression on his face that is at once calculating and irritated.

Ava smiles, a little too knowingly, and gives me a quick, teasing wink before slipping away into the crowd. “Good luck with that,” she whispers over her shoulder.

I make my way over to my father and Simon, my heart thudding in my chest. Simon is standing with his usual calm demeanor, but I can tell my father is still sizing him up. There’s something about the way they’re standing that feels too close—too comfortable.

“Everything going well, Simon?” my father asks, his voice smooth but with an edge beneath it.

Simon straightens, his gaze never leaving my father. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Williams. We’re just enjoying the evening.”

I can’t help but feel the tension between them as I approach. My father’s eyes flick to me, and then back to Simon.

“Good. Good,” my father says. He seems to be trying to read something in Simon’s expression. I can feel his judgment, his suspicion thick in the air. “Ella’s been doing well, I trust?”

Simon gives a tight smile, his eyes never faltering. “Yes, she’s been doing great. Everything’s going exactly as planned.”

My father looks at me then, his gaze lingering a little too long, and I can feel my stomach churn. He’s not convinced. He’s still looking for cracks in the story, looking for any sign that this is all just a game.

“Well,” my father says, his voice colder now, “just make sure she stays safe, Simon. You’re responsible for her now. Don’t forget that.”

I stiffen at his words, and I can see Simon’s jaw tighten slightly, though his expression remains calm. He looks my father directly in the eye and responds firmly, “I won’t forget, Mr. Williams. I’ll take care of her.”

The words are simple, but there’s something in the way Simon says them—something that makes me feel like he’s not just talking about this situation. It’s like he means it on a deeper level. And for a brief, fleeting moment, I wonder if he does care about me.

Before I can process that thought, my father turns away, his attention diverted to someone else. Simon looks at me, and there’s an almost imperceptible shift in the air between us—like the brief connection we’ve shared is suddenly more than just a charade.

But we don’t say anything. Instead, Simon gives me a quick nod, his hand brushing lightly against mine as he walks away to join some other guests.

I stand there for a moment, the weight of my father’s words still hanging in the air. It’s clear he’s not convinced. He’s not buying this whole act, and it’s only a matter of time before he finds out the truth. But for now, I can feel the way Simon’s presence lingers with me, the way everything between us has shifted.

And for the first time in a long time, I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. Or maybe—just maybe—if this is exactly what I needed.