Page 81 of Broken Grump

“Oh. Did I do something—”

“No, no. Well, yes. But nothing wrong.” I reach for her hand and glide the pad of my thumb across her knuckles. “You just look so beautiful that I’m having a hard time paying attention to much else.”

She smiles and looks down bashfully.

That’s another thing she and Luna have in common. They both make that similar face when getting a compliment. Now, as a child, her daughter seems a little more receptive to them, but she still gets a teeny bit shy.

Another thing I realized they have in common today is little tints of red hair, which I assume they got from Addie’s dad. I saw a picture of him years ago, and I remembered that he was a ginger when I was holding Luna in the pool earlier today.

And I can see the same shiny, auburn reflections coming from Addie’s head as we enjoy our dinner by candlelight.

“Thank you, Hayden.”

“You’ve very welcome. And thank you for coming.”

Her eyes lift back up and meet mine. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to.”

I click my tongue and lift my glass. “Either way, I’m so happy you did. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed an evening as much as this one. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She clinks her glass against mine.

Raising an eyebrow, I ask, “So you agree?”

Addie takes another sip. “Agree what?”

“That this has been a pretty darn good night?”

“Oh.” She adorably bites down on her lower lip, and twinkles sparkle in her eyes. “I guess it’s been alright.”

I give her a look, and she immediately starts giggling.

“I’m kidding. Of course, I’m kidding. It has been a wonderful evening. Thank you for everything.”

“My absolute pleasure.” If anyone deserves a night being wined and dined, it’s her.

When we’re finished with our meals, the server in his long apron comes over and removes our plates.

“Can we tempt you with anygougères, raspberryclafoutis,or perhaps some cherry and chocolateBûche de Noël?”

I’m completely stuffed, but I look to Addie to get her reaction. But when she inflates her cheeks out and pats her stomach, I know she feels the same way that I do.

“Non merci, monsieur,” I reply, saying no thank you.

“Très bien.” He swings his arms behind his back and bows.

After he walks away to attend to another table, Addie leans over our table a bit and confesses, “I have no idea what any of that meant.” Then, her face scrunches up.

“That’s right. When it comes to sweets, you’re much more of aPio Quinto,Rosquillas, andmelcochakinda gal.” I’m much more confident in my pronunciation when it comes to French words, but I try my best.

“No way. You remember Abuelo’smelcocha?”

“Are you kidding? I still have dreams about it.”

She smiles.

If I recall correctly, it translates to “marshmallow.” Despite that, it’s actually a very thick and hard candy.

“You know that took him days to make.”

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