Page 51 of Broken Grump

“Two. Two, and I will be out of your hair.”

“Fine!”

I never would’ve thought that getting her to eat her favorite, greasy food would feel like such a chore.

But after taking her first bite, I relax a little. “So, what are you working on? Are those plans under your arms?”

She repositions herself to cover them even more and stuffed her mouth with more bread and cheese.

“Nothing? Really?”

Her cheeks are full, and she cocks her head as if to say, “Nope.”

Ugh.Even after everything we’ve been through in the last few days, she’s still intent on keeping this bogus wall up between us.Well fine. Two may be able to play that game, but I’ll do you one better and show you my hand.

“You know, I’m not just in this to expandyourfamily business.”

Her blank stare tells me she’s listening.

“Oh, no. I’m doing this to ultimately make it my life’s work as well. You know, to leave my own personal mark while also getting out from behind my father’s shadow.”

As soon as I say that “f” word—father—I notice her body stiffen a little. And I don’t blame her. His very presence, or lack thereof, have brought a lot of accusations into her life.

“Look. About that night. I’ve apologized, and I’m ready to do it again and again until you finally accept it.”

She finally swallows and wipes her mouth with a napkin.

“But as you know, the repercussions of that article went further than just the heart attack. They also threatened the company.”

“What was it even about? It’s been so long, I don’t remember.”

I find that hard to believe. But in any event, I tell her, “It revealed the affair he was having with his business partner’s wife. There were pictures of them in some swanky, dark club in Hollywood.”

“Oh. That’s right.”

Yeah.“And again, I’m truly sorry for the way I acted towards you the night he died. I lost a great friend because of my outburst.”

She shakes her head. “Why are we even talking about this? That was years ago—”

“No. I—I know. I just feel like . . . I don’t know.” Usually, I’m a man who is so sure of my words, but something aboutthistopic and talking with her makes me sound like a babbling idiot.

“There,” she announces, holding her hands up and lifting her tongue to prove as if she was a contestant in an eating contest, that she downed the second slice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”

“Wait.” I was hoping my ploy with the pizza would buy me more time.

“Yes?”

“All I wanted to say is that I understand why you’re keeping this wall up between us. Okay?”

She glares at me suspiciously. “You do, huh?”

“I mean, I think so. Yeah. I just wish things would—”Certainly, I can’t say go back to the way they were because that would insinuate that I wanted her to be lying on this very desk and underneath me as I ravaged her beautiful, smart mouth.

“Well, they can’t,” she interrupts, her blue eyes as icy as ever.

“Oh, right.” I do my best to chuckle it off, like I think the thought is just as absurd as she does. “Of course. Of course, not.”

“We’re just too different now. Too different to be friends, at least.”

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