Page 133 of Broken Grump

Ugh. I knew this was going to be an uphill battle.“Look, I’m not trying to earn your forgiveness—”

She scoffs. “Really? Because the notes in there would suggest otherwise.”

“I was a stupid fool when I wrote those.”

Her eyes roll.

“I’ve been a stupid fool for most of my life.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’ve been a stupid fool for most of my life,” I repeat to appease her. “I know that, Addie. Believe me, I do. But now I’m here before you as a grown man who knows he is past saying I’m sorry—a man who is simply asking for you to let him show you something.”

She’s silent for a moment before exclaiming, “Can you please, just for once, drop the presumptuousness and not show up here without calling first?”

My throat goes dry as I croak out, “I did call you! I called you a billion times, but you wouldn’t answer, remember?”

She makes a face and then looks around. “Hayden? Where ismydaughter?” The emphasis she puts on “my” hurts, but it’s fair, given my behavior as of late.

I don’t answer her question. Instead, I continue with my mission by saying, “Look. I know I screwed up. I know that. I also know that I hurt you more times than I can even count.”

That makes her boisterously laugh.

“With all of that being said, I’ll completely understand if you never want to see me or talk to me after tonight. But please. Please just grant me a few more minutes of your time.”

Suddenly, Luna’s delightful laughter rings out and circles us.

“Our daughter is already enjoying it.”

She grabs hold of the railing before her and raises her nose up in the air. “Enjoying what?”

I lift my hand up towards her. “If you’ll come down, I’ll show you.”

Finally, after what feels like forever, she starts her descent down the stairs. When she gets close enough, I offer the flower to her, but she just breezes past me without so much as a glance backwards.

Alrighty then.Sighing, I discard the red tulip and follow after her.

But as soon as she turns the corner, she stops in her tracks, and I almost bump into her.

“Oh, my gosh!” Even with her back to me, I can tell her mouth is agape as she gazes at the ancient oak tree. There, she designed and redesigned a tree house that we promised we’d build together one day. But that never actually happened. Until now.

I let her take it all in for a bit before I step next to her. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” As she peers over at me, there’s a child-like wonderment dancing in those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. “I—I just don’t understand how you did this. It looks exactly like my designs.”

With that prompt, I take out a crumpled piece of paper she doodled on years ago on the last day of summer vacation. “Here.”

She gasps. “You kept it?”

“An Addie Flores original? Of course, I did.” Back then, we promised we’d start building the next year, but we both outgrew and forgot about it. But now, there are fairy lights strewn about the branches around it and fresh flowers—red tulips, of course—planted at the base of the structure.

She just gazes at it.

I cough to clear my throat before explaining, “My friends helped me build it.”

“Why? Why did you do this?” she asks.

“Um—” It’s so simple of a question, but I, nevertheless, stammer through the answer. “I, uh. I guess I just . . . I just wanted to build something for you instead of destroying everything.”

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