The Valentine Box (The Box Books #3)

February 8

Taylor

I ’ve insisted Geneva and Kyra take a proper lunch break while Mom and I hold down the fort. Fresh-baked cakes and pies and cookies have the shop smelling even more delectable than usual as I pack up orders, stacks of pink boxes piled high around me. When my phone buzzes, it’s a text from Luke.

Heard from Caroline you’re getting caught up. Was thinking we could drive to Madison, go out to dinner. You need a break. We both do.

I pull in my breath. It’s tempting. A real date with him. Madison is a cute town, much bigger than Sweetwater, half an hour down the river on the Indiana side, boasting quaint eateries and art galleries. It’s basically everything Sweetwater would love to be.

But I text back another white lie, something I’m apparently getting good at. Catching up, yes. But still super busy until V Day. Sorry.

“Why does my girl look so sad?”

Just like when Kyra snuck up on me yesterday, I’m startled, and turn to find my mom—appearing concerned in that way only a mother can.

“Right when I’d think you’d be happy,” she goes on. “After all, business is booming. And more will come with the horse park. Things are turning around for Sweetwater. And you’re being romanced by the guy you’ve always wanted.” She stops, giving her head a worried tilt. “You’ve seemed…off the last few days, but I’ve been chalking it up to stress. Now I’m not so sure. What am I missing?”

The truth is, I can’t believe I’ve kept it from her so long. We’ve always been close, even since she moved to Louisville. I tell her everything, and she’s always supportive. When I wanted to buy the diner despite it not making great business sense, she supported me. Every time I’ve found myself dating someone I’m not really into and announced I was ending it, she supported me. So it’s probably high time I talk to her about this, too.

“It’s about Luke,” I say.

She lets out a sigh. “I suspected as much. What’s going on?”

How do I explain this? “I love being with him, and he seems super into me. But he’s leaving soon.” I make eye contact with her for that last part.

“ How soon?”

“Undetermined,” I say. “But probably within another month or two. Which seems like just enough time…to get my heart broken. So I’m thinking it’s a bad idea to keep going down this path.”

We’ve both stopped working, and now she reaches out to squeeze my hand. “I understand the fear,” she tells me, “but isn’t it worth the risk to have the fun? You seem crazy about him, and you’ve wanted something with him since high school.”

“ Fun ,” I spit back at her like it’s a dirty word. “Everyone keeps telling me I’m supposed to be having fun . That I’m supposed to be all right with knowing it’s casual and temporary. That I’m supposed to be able to control whether or not I get attached to a guy who’s leaving. Like it’s just a big game.”

And as I’m telling her all this, something entirely unexpected happens: I experience a sudden burst of clarity.

Maybe it just took saying the whole thing out loud. But regardless, I keep going, telling her what I’ve finally just figured out. “And you know what? It’s okay that I don’t want that. People are always trying to push you toward casual relationships—but those don’t work for everyone. I can’t keep it casual. We have too much history.

“And do I really think this guy, this handsome hunk of man, feels anything for me like what I’m starting to feel for him? If he did, he wouldn’t be planning on leaving, would he? So I think that answers that.

“Furthermore, I’ve forced myself into trying to be okay with fun ,” which I still say like it’s the worst thing imaginable, “because I’ve always been so insecure. I’ve always wanted to just fit in, be normal, be what everyone thinks is normal. But I’m being brave enough right now to say, ‘No, this fun, temporary romance isn’t for me.’ And that , I think, is the act of a person truly secure with herself.”

After all this, I blow out a breath. “Besides, it’s still busy season and I have a bake shop to run.”

When I meet Mom’s gaze, I can tell she’s hurting for me. She sees that I’m hurting. And that I’m protecting myself because it’s what makes the most sense to me. She finally says, “Well, that’s a lot to absorb.”

“Are you going to argue with me about it the way Geneva or Caroline would?”

She shakes her head. “No. I trust you to know what’s right for you.”

Then she pulls me into a hug, which I instantly realize I need.

“I just hope you’re right,” she says, still embracing me. “Because…well, aren’t you going to end up hurt anyway? Aren’t you suffering already?”

I draw back just enough to nod—and add, “But if it went further, it would be worse. Walk away now and at least I’m ending it on my own terms.”

And who knows—maybe it’s a lot simpler than everything I just said. Maybe what it boils down to is that I just don’t want to end up that same lonely, broken girl again, wondering why she ever gave her heart to Luke Montgomery.

Luke

Catching up, yes. But still super busy until V Day. Sorry.

I look at the words on the screen, but they don’t ring true. Nothing about our recent communication has rung true. It grinds my heart to pieces, but I just set the phone aside and resume studying the list of contractors I’m requesting bids from for the farm expansion.

When the phone buzzes again, I’m foolish enough to let hope rise inside me in case she’s changed her mind or has something a little more encouraging to say. Instead, though, it’s only Hank, confirming our meeting this afternoon.

See you then, I text back. But damn, good thing he reached out, because I’d completely forgotten. We’re supposed to walk his grounds and come to an agreement on how much land he’s selling us.

Whatever’s going on with Taylor has me off my game at a time when I can’t afford to be. I’ve got a lot of plates to keep in the air. But this most recent rejection has me more deflated than the rest—because maybe I’m finally catching on.

Once upon a time I stood outside a gym and waited for her—only to end up feeling more rejected than ever. I have no idea how we went from talking and kissing in the car outside the Little Dipper to this— and it’s killing me. But maybe this time I’ll just take the hint and move on.