My Phony Valentine (Holidays with Hart, #1)

by Courtney Walsh

I don’t know why I did what I did. I mean, I know why I did it—I just can’t believe I did it.

Story of my life.

Living in a small town, there is some level of everyone knowing your business. It’s in the bylaws, probably. But when you’re trying to process your emotions, difficult ones, it’s hard to hear—and read—everyone else’s opinions about them. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve absorbed what everyone else thinks and made their feelings my own.

kitchen. I can’t explain it—coffee tastes better when someone else makes it.

And food brings people together in a way that other things can’t. With food, cultures are transcended, walls are broken down, heartfelt stories are seasoned and salted.

I realize I didn’t think I’d get this far in my plan. Because in typical Poppy fashion, there was no plan to begin with. My method tends to be more open mouth, say stuff.

Then, to his grandma, “Are you comfortable? I think you should sit in the living room.” He reaches out to help her and she smacks his hand away. “I think you should go sit in traffic.”

It’s not the kind of smile that would alert the paparazzi, but it’s the kind of smile that a person could hold onto. The kind that could make, say, a man in a tough spot hope that things could turn around again. Like an anchor. A safe space to land.

Adulting is hard. Even at twenty-eight, I haven’t mastered it. There are moments when I don't want to be strong, or independent, or responsible. There are moments I want someone else to take the risk, or make the decision, or tell me what to do.

People don’t always let us become who we are. They try to keep us in the box of who we were.

That’s the danger of wanting to be loved—you start to see possibilities everywhere. Even where there are none.

“I’m not going to let you fall.”

He gives me a nod so small I almost miss it, but I’m sure he’s just communicated something to me. I look down, then look back up at him and give him a little wave.

“What is wrong with you?” “Oh, so many things, my friend. I’d need charts and graphs to show you, but we really don’t have that kind of time.”

“But some things are true, regardless of who you are. Saying something kind and from the heart is never a bad idea, and it’s never the wrong thing to do.”

“When did you get so funny?” “It’s after ten, I get funny after ten.”

“‘Some things are true, regardless of who you are. Saying something kind and from the heart is never a bad idea, and it’s never the wrong thing to do.’”

“I’m only thinking about what I’ll gain.” “Which is what?” “You,” he says simply. “You are all I want.”

“Everyone gets hurt,” she says. “Until they heal. And then it’s time to try again.”

“You don’t seem like a guy who spooks easily.” “I’m not scared of, like, spiders or mice.” His gaze is steady. “I’m scared of what tomorrow is going to feel like if you’re not there. I’m scared of going another day without telling you how I really feel.”