Page 44 of Don't Fall for a Grump

Phil shakes his head in disagreement. “You see, my man, that’s where you’re wrong. Your experience with Claire has tainted your entire view of women.”

“Is that your therapist talking?” I smirk.

Phil isn’t fazed and nods. “Probably. Doesn’t make it any less true though. You’ve been so terrified of getting hurt since Claire, you’ve hidden yourself away. This is the first time in years that you tentatively stick your head over the parapet, and you tell yourself you’re going to give it a chance. You think you see a friendly across the trenches, and things look safe. But then what looks to you like the enemy suddenly arrives, and you dive back down again. But how do you know that wasn’t a friendly wearing the enemy’s uniform?”

“I just know,” I reply, feeling more than a little frustrated at having my deductive abilities questioned.

“But, how could you? You didn’t ask her.”

“You didn’t see her, Phil. She was hanging onto this guy like a limpet. Arms, legs, everything.”

Phil leans back in his chair and nods. He takes another sip, and after a small pause, puts the glass back down again.

“When Freya and I had been dating for about ten months,” he begins, “she wanted me to throw a barbecue and invite both families. She thought it would be a great way for everyone to meet. We were getting pretty serious, and we thought it was time.”

I sip my drink again wondering whether there is a point to this story. Phil liked his stories and his analogies. He used them in the office and out; and I have to admit, most of the time, they’re pretty good. What he and Freya meeting each other’s family had to do with me, however, I can hardly imagine. So, I’m starting to feel just a little irritated.

“When the guests started arriving, there were introductions and greetings and all that jazz. I’m in the middle of flipping patties for the burgers when Freya runs past me, launches herself toward this guy, and literally throws her arms and legs around him. And I’m not just saying this, Jackson. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. But just like the guy in your story, he stood there with a beaming grin on his face, spinning her around while she giggled in delight.”

I’m now sitting up and looking at Phil intently.

“I swear,” he says, raising his right hand.

“Who was he?” I ask, as I slowly begin to realize why this story is so very pertinent.

“Her cousin,” he replies. “They’d grown up two streets away from each other, had spent their entire childhood together, and were as close as two peas in a pod.”

My mind is now wide awake and paying attention, and I’m beginning to realize, at great speed, that I may have made a colossal blunder. I had seen just what I wanted to see. A woman betraying my trust. My irrational fears regarding women had clouded my judgment. I hadn’t even considered an alternative rational explanation. Bree had to have lied to me, and that was that.

What an idiot!

“I can hear the cogs turning, man. What’s going on?” Phil says, searching my face to figure out what is going on in my head.

“I think I might have messed up big time,” I murmur, struggling to contain the sickening sensation that is now whirling about in my stomach.

Phil grins and nods. There’s some smugness in his grin. “Then my work here is done,” he declares dramatically and laughs. “So, talk to me.”

“Remember when I fixed the faucet?” I say.

“Yes.”

“Well, Bree lent me a hoodie that fitted me quite well. In fact, it’s still at Dad’s house. I didn’t return it to her before leaving. She said it belonged to her brother.”

“And thinking back now, would this guy you saw on the porch have been about the right size?”

I shrug. “It was hard to tell, but if I had to answer, I’d say yes. I’m a big guy. And this hoodie fit me pretty well.”

Phil’s eyebrows now rise and he’s nodding, knowing that he’s made his point. “You can’t know for sure, until you go and talk to her. But I’m going to be honest with you. From what you’ve told me so far, you’ve done this woman wrong. She’s not Claire, Jackson. Neither is every other woman walking the planet. Bree sounds like a good one.”

She is. I have known that all along.

“My advice?” Phil continues. “Get your butt back to Sharon Springs and see if you can undo the damage you’ve done.”

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