Page 43 of Don't Fall for a Grump

“No, it’s not Dad. Dad is fine. You know Dad.”

Phil smiles. “I do, which is what has me confused. Is it Claire?”

There isn’t much I haven’t shared with Phil over the years. In fact, he’s the closest thing to a best friend I’ve got. But for some reason, I haven’t mentioned Bree to him since my return. Maybe I’m ashamed to admit my own idiocy. Maybe I just don’t want to talk about it. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to forget all about her.

And how’s that working out for you?

“There’s a few things,” I say.

“All right,” Phil says in his usual solution-based tone. “How about drinks after work?”

I pull a face.

“Listen, bud,” he continues. “I love you. You know I do. I’m worried about you. And besides,” he smiles, “we haven’t gone out for drinks in months. Maybe blowing off a little steam will do us both some good.”

We settle in our regular bar, situated about three blocks from the office. It’s only when we sit down that I realize how long it has actually been. Phil was right, it had been months.

“There we go,” he says, placing a small tumbler with a finger of amber liquid in the bottom. “First round’s on me,” he says as he settles down beside me. “So, what’s going on? And I want the unedited version. Not just what you think I need to know.”

I start from the beginning and lay the events of the last two weeks out on the table, the detailed version. Phil is a good listener. Not one of those people who interrupts every five minutes to prod about something that will be disclosed sooner or later anyway. He sips his drink, nodding every so often as I relay everything that happened with Bree; seeing Claire, and the crap that ensued. I tell him about my conversation with Dad, and how fired up I was to get back on the horse and give this relationship thing another shot. And then, finally, I tell him about seeing Bree with another guy at her house. I skip the argument in the kitchen. I didn’t see the point in adding that.

“I decided to come back here and forget all about her,” I finish. “It’s best for everyone, I think.”

“Right,” Phil says, sounding entirely unconvinced that it was best for anyone. “Hang on.”

He goes back to the bar and gets another round.

“It was my turn,” I protest on his return.

“There’s plenty of time.” He dismisses me with his hand. “You can get the next one.”

We both sip some more, and then he looks at me. “Let me get this straight,” he says, placing the tumbler carefully back onto the worn table in front of us. “You meet this girl, this stunning, beautiful girl, by your account.”

I nod.

“Clearly, some magic happens between you…”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far,” I counter.

“Hear me out. Some magic happens between you. You, after all these years of celibacy and solitude, finally decide you’re going to take the plunge with this woman, and then you change your mind when you see her in the arms of this other guy. Does that about some it up?”

I nod. There’s a punchline. I can hear it in his voice. I know Phil, and I know his tones, so I wait for the inevitable.

“Tell me again, how you know that this guy was in fact, Bree’s ex.”

I gawk at him. “She was all over him like a rash, Phil.”

“OK. But does that really mean it was her ex? Did you even ask her?”

“I didn’t need—”

“Did you ask her?” he presses.

“No.” I sigh.

“So, you just jumped to a conclusion.”

“A conclusion anyone might have jumped to under the circumstances,” I defend.

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