Page 27 of Don't Fall for a Grump

12

Jackson

“Has she moved back to New York City?” Dad asks when I walk into the living room.

The TV is on but the sound is muted, and an open book sits on the table beside him, telling me that he was reading it only a moment before. I honestly don’t know how he does it. I couldn’t read and focus on a book, if there was a flashing screen of images anywhere nearby.

Dropping down onto the sofa across the room, I heave a sigh. Dad is just looking at me expectantly. When I only smile and do not speak, he glances at his watch. “You know what time it is, right?”

“It’s late,” I reply, pretending to avoid his imminent fishing expedition into where I’ve been for the last five hours.

“You were only returning a purse,” Dad states the obvious.

“Uh-huh,” I say evenly.

“Well?” Dad presses, desperate to know why returning a purse has taken me all afternoon.

I shrug. “Well, what?” I’m really struggling not to laugh at this point. Dad has a dreadful poker face, but I’m quite adept at hiding what’s really going on inside me. Not just because of the masks I’ve had to wear over these last few years, but it comes in very handy when dealing with clients.

“Come on, Jackson. Tell me what happened?”

“We talked,” I say. “I fixed her plumbing, and then we talked.”

“What?”

I sat with Dad for another hour, telling him all about my afternoon. He listened with interest, his eyebrows rising on a few occasions, like when I told him of Bree’s exes, and the fact that her last overcontrolling boyfriend was the reason she had moved to Sharon Springs.

“So, you both are not so different after all,” Dad says, when I finally finish.

There’s a look in his eye that tells me exactly what he’s thinking.

“Don’t bring out the champagne just yet, Dad,” I say. “I admit, I enjoyed this afternoon, but I’m not rushing into anything. Not again.”

Claire and I had a whirlwind romance. We met in November and were married by the following June. Everyone told me things were going too fast, but I hadn’t listened. Idiot that I was. A year later, Claire had proven my friends right, and I was left with my pride in tatters.

“No one’s saying you have to rush into anything, Jackson. But it’s been three years—”

“And I have to move on at some point, right?” I finish his sentence.

“All I’m saying, son, is that not every woman is like…” Dad stalls. He has never been able to say Claire’s name since her cheating came to light. It was funny in a way, that he was telling me to move on, when he still held a grudge of his own. “…her,” he finishes with a little vehemence. “You’ve kept your guard up all this time; trying to protect yourself from getting hurt again. And I can understand that. But while your behavior ensures you’ll never feel pain again, it also guarantees that you’ll never feel anything else either.”

Dad had always been wise. And he was never wrong. Nor was he the first to tell me to move on with life. Phil, my business partner, had been trying to set me up with women for months. He constantly encouraged me to get back in the game, get back on the horse, live a little.

It was easier said than done.

Well, before Bree, at any rate. Somehow, she has unlocked the gate to my fortress, and swung the door wide open, wandering around the inside with avid curiosity. And more surprisingly, I’ve let her.

“So, what’s your next move?” Dad asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “I don’t have a next move, Dad. We had a pleasant afternoon, and I admit that I enjoyed her company. For now, though, I’m going to just play it by ear. Test the waters. See what happens.”

He just nods at me with an approving smile. There’s something behind that smile that I know very well. His mind is working overtime. No doubt there’s some scheme being concocted in his head at this very moment.

“I don’t need your help, Dad,” I say, as I get off the sofa. I’m exhausted. Perhaps because of all the talking I did today. “I’m going to bed.”

“All right, son,” he replies with a smile. A smile that I know, lets on more than he intends to. “Sleep well.”

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