I take the envelope. “Thanks, Lily. I love having you as my secret admirer.” I pull out the card and read her message—short and sweet, but I smile at the gesture.
“I gave Ryan his card too,” she says.
I look up from my reading. “You made Ryan a card? That’s very thoughtful, kiddo. I’m sure he loved it.”
She shakes her head, dark ponytail swishing. “I didn’t make a card.”
“Oh?” I say, not following.
“You wrote the letter.”
“Letter?” Then it comes to me and my blood runs cold. The letter I wrote when Lily was working on her Valentine’s cards. I haven’t given it another thought since. “You gave Ryan the letter I wrote?”
She nods slowly. “He’s your Valentine, right?”
I stand there with my mouth open. “I…”
She’s nodding faster now. “And you’re his Secret Admirer.”
“But how—”
“Not so secret admirer, I’d say,” Phillip says.
“You’ve been drooling over the boy all day.” Jayne says, walking across and placing her hands on Lily’s shoulders.
“Jayne!” My gaze darts to Lily who’s looking back and forth between us adults.
“Well, it’s true,” Phillip says. “Even I could see you couldn’t keep your eyes off him.”
“And that’s saying a lot,” Jayne says. “If Phillip noticed, then it’s plain for all the world to see.”
Lily tugs at my hand, drawing my attention. “Don’t you love Uncle Ryan?” she asks.
I look into her face, all big eyes and innocent confusion. I can’t lie to her, and I can’t lie to myself.
It only takes a moment before I answer. “Yes, kiddo. I do.”
She smiles widely.
“Don’t you think it’s time you told him?” Jayne says. “And Valentine’s Day is the perfect time.”
The three of them all but push me out the door and soon I’m on my way to Ryan’s apartment. My mind’s a mess as I drive the short distance.
Why did he leave the party if he read the letter? I know he said he was sick, but what if my admission has him running for the hills?
All too soon, I’m knocking on Ryan’s door, dread and hope warring inside me. What will I say to him? How can I explainthe letter? What if professing my true feelings is the last thing he wants from me? What if I’ve ruined our friendship? But I have to know the truth. I have to see his reaction, to look into his eyes, and find out once and for all.
The door swings open, and Ryan stands before me. “Derek,” he says after a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
He nods and steps back to let me in. The apartment is dim, the blinds drawn against the late afternoon sun. Ryan sits on the edge of the couch, shoulders hunched.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, but from the looks of things, I already know the answer. He looks like hell.
“I’m okay,” he says. “Just a headache.”
There’s an empty mug on the coffee table beside a half-full glass of water. Next to that is the letter—I’d recognise the pink paper anywhere.
