Page 24 of Stuck with the Grump

“I told you I was sorry.”

Her eyes glistened as tears gathered. “You may have said you were sorry, but you didn’t mean it.”

“How do you know whether I meant it or not?”

“Because you still haven’t tried to do anything about it.” She held her hand up when I tried to speak. “No, Clarke. I don’t want to listen to it right now. I have too many other things to think about and I can’t deal with this right now.”

“You really want to run away like a scared little girl?” I asked, knowing that the jab at her age would cut deep. She flinched but recovered quickly.

“This entire mess between us is over. You’re a heartless bastard.”

“Fine,” I said, the word firing from my mouth like a bullet. I saw the sharp intake of breath she took before she gave a confident nod.

“Good.”

She walked away; her head held high even though her shoulders were shaking. There was a part of me that wondered if this was just her way of lashing out, but another part was having my fears confirmed.

I wasn’t good enough for her.

Instead of wallowing, I let the disappointment fester until it was anger. Was it healthy? No. But it did make me feel marginally better.

By the time dinner rolled around, she was roasting hot dogs over another fire while I hid in the dining room with a lantern and my paperwork. The numbers were starting to blur in front of my eyes. I reached for the glass of bourbon beside me and took a long drink before putting it down again.

Curiosity got the better of me and I grabbed my phone, searching for my own name. Pictures of Leigh popped up, more from her social media than from the grocery store. Most of the pictures had nasty words edited on them, while in others, her eyes were scratched out.

Guilt started to consume me as I kept scrolling. It felt like I was throwing myself down a rabbit hole and trying to hold on to whatever I could. I kept scrolling, the comments getting worse with every swipe.

Finally, I downed the rest of my bourbon and dialed Camille’s number.

“About damn time you came to your senses,” she said, not bothering with hello.

“I still wonder why I pay you.”

“Because nobody else will smack you with the truth like I will.” Camille chuckled and I could hear the sound of her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Now, what kind of present are you going to buy her?”

“Why would I buy her a present?”

“Because that’s what stupid men do and you, Clarke, are the dumbest fucking man I’ve ever met.”

“I would like to counter that with being second to Tyson. Isn’t he still trying to find that girl he was with in high school? Haley?”

“You know, that’s kind of romantic.”

“Being hung up on the same girl for the last twenty-three years is a horrible idea.”

“Well then, your outlook on marriage is rather bleak if you think that being with the same person for twenty-three years is horrible.”

For a moment, I tried to picture what life would look like in twenty-three years. I wanted to settle down and start a family—I knew that—but there always seemed to be more important matters to attend to. I had other ambitions in life that a wife and a child would keep me from achieving at the pace I wanted to.

Yet, something about the brunette in the other room made me want to slow down and see what life was really about.

“It’s not that.” I sighed and combed my fingers through my beard. It was getting longer than I was used to, but it wasn’t a bad look. “It’s just that I never thought my life would turn out that way.”

Camille continued typing on the other end of the call. “Look, you need to stop being a little bitch and do whatever it is you think will make her happy. Show her that you aren’t the asshole you like to be ninety percent of the time.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Your pride has been buried. You can thank me in about an hour.”

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