“It’s about Hal.”
“Okay.”
“And…Valentine’s Day.”
She grins. “You have my undivided attention.”
Luke wants to squirm and makes a face instead, glancing away from her. Two mothers pushing strollers pause to read the specials board by the coffee shop’s door.
“I…” he starts, and feels his face heat. “I’ve never actually been with anyone on Valentine’s Day,” he admits, dropping his voice so no one sitting around them can hear. “Not that Iwantedto be,” he adds. “I don’t really like – I actually – okay, Ihatethis holiday. It’s stupid.”
“Aw,” Tara says, “you’re one of those bitter people who buy themselves chocolates and flowers, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Liar. You’re the Ebenezer Scrooge of V-Day, aren’t you?”
“Oh, like you’re gonna go home and cut out paper heart chains, right?”
She chuckles. “I’m Goth. I’m not allowed to like Valentine’s.”
“Ugh,” Luke groans, reaching to reopen his laptop. “Forget I said anything.”
“No, no, no. Wait.” She swats his hand away from his computer and leans forward, expression growing contemplative. “Okay, I can be serious.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can. Watch me. This is your first Valentine’s Day having a real boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” he says, grudgingly.
“And it’s not just any boyfriend, butHal.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re feeling the pressure.”
“A lot of it.”
Her smile is fond. “You losers are adorable.”
“Gee, I don’t know why I don’t come to you with my personal problems more often.”
“No, you are. YouknowHal doesn’t give a damn about presents. You guys have the cutest, most disgusting, lovey-dovey relationship ever. Are you actually worried about some stupid Hallmark holiday? You didn’t freak out over Christmas.”
And what a Christmas it was; the best in Luke’s memory. They drove home to Richmond and spent time with their parents. Luke thought it might be weird, to be home and to be together like they were now, but everyone seemed thrilled with the development. They opened presents Christmas morning in the Rycroft living room, and their mothers made a huge breakfast that made the dining room table groan. They slept together in Hal’s old double bed, overlapping, talking about the future in the hushed voices of little boys waiting for Santa.
“That’s because Christmas isn’t about romance specifically,” he says. “What am I, the least romantic person alive, supposed to do on a holiday dedicated to it?”
Tara sips her coffee and sends him a small, hard-to-read smile. “The least romantic person alive?”
“Yeah.”
She makes a disagreeing sound. “You’re romantic as shit.”
“Uh, no.”
“Uh,yes.” She sets her cup down and folds her arms over the table, meets his gaze with an emphatic one of her own. “Let me break it down for you. You’ve been in love with your best friend for most of your life. You’re childhood sweethearts, basically. You pined for him for years. You professed your love to him when he came back from war. He broke your heart, and you still loved his ass. And now you’re finally, finally together, and you should see the stupid look on your face every time you look at him. My God, Luke, you are a walking romance novel. I think you can handle Valentine’s Day.”
He blinks at her. When she says it likethat… “I’m not sure, but I think I’m offended.”
“Probably. You’re offended a lot.”
He shoots her the bird. The hiss from the table behind him tells him some other nice coffee shop patron saw, and is offended now also.
Finally taking pity on him, Tara says, “Don’t do something expensive. Do something sweet. Something that says how much he means to you.”
“Yeah.” He can do that.
Doesn’t mean he isn’t stressed, though.
