Page 25 of Broken Grump

“Addie,” he persists.

Fuck it.“She’s seven.”

Then, he sits up and leans against the large wooden desk. “Is she mine?”

I feel faint, like I could projectile vomit at any moment. But defiantly, I answer. “No.”

He sniffles. “I saw her green eyes, Addie.”

My arms rise and then fall with heavy slaps on my thighs. “So? Plenty of kids have green eyes, Hayden. You don’t have personal dominion over them.”

His head turns slightly, and his nose raises in the air. Then, I’m left to stare directly into the carbon copy of Luna’s eyeballs.

“Whose is she then?” he asks with a bite of malice.

My nostrils flare as I answer, “Mine.”

“Addie.”

“What?” I’m not going to back down.

“Unless you’re worthy of Biblical scripture, I think we both know that you didn’t have some kind of immaculate conception.”

“Maybe not,” I quip. “But that doesn’t mean that a woman can’t go to a clinic and register to have an anonymous sperm donor knock her up.”

“Yeah, okay,” he responds matter-of-factly.

“What?” His cockiness is grinding my gears.

“We both know that isn’t something you would do, Addie.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Maybe years ago, but not anymore.

“I know you always wanted to be a mother. But not like this.”

Before I can say anything else, Steven walks back in with his phone in his hands. However, as soon as he catches onto the conflict that is still transpiring, his mouth goes flat before he disappears just as quickly as he appears.

Shit.Part of me wishes he stayed because I’m over this conversation.

So, in his absence, I once again beg for a conclusion. “Please, just leave.”

He stands, but his jaw muscles tense, causing a ripple effect on his cheeks. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time, Addie. Is that child mine?” His voice is almost a low growl at this point.

There isn’t, but it almost feels as though there’s a sharp knife at my throat.Although that could be my own guilt, I reason.

Nevertheless, to avoid my nightmare coming true with legal proceedings and custody battles, I once again say, “No. I’m not sure how many times you have to hear that, Hayden.” I figure my best strategy is to make him feel crazy for his suspicions. “I’m sorry your life didn’t pan out the way you wanted it to.” Back in the day, he mentioned to me that he also wanted to be a father and correct the course his father set forth during his childhood.

Those words hurt him, and I know it.

Perhaps in an attempt to mask signs of his internal pain, he glances down at the ground, flicks his nose, and avoids any more eye contact with me.

“But there’s always time,” I encourage to lighten the mood in some way. “You’re only thirty-two, right? Heck! If you were a woman, you’d even have three more years before being considered a ‘geriatric pregnancy.’ And as a man, you’ve got plenty of time to father children. Look at De Niro. He just impregnated his wife again at seventy-nine. That gives you forty-seven years to catch up.”

He still isn’t looking at me.

“I hate it when you do that,” he says with bite.

“Do what?”

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