“Always ask yourself this: Do you want to be right or do you want to be happy?”
“What?” Now I’m even more confused.
“If all it takes to make your partner happy is to apologize, what does that really cost you? If she’s happy, you’ll be happy. If you’re too busy worrying about being right, you’re missing out on the way your partner feels. Isn’t her happiness the most important thing?”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t know what I’m apologizing for, and I don’t want to walk in there and look even more like an ass if she doesn't want anything to do with me.”
I can practically hear him smiling on the other end of the line. “Sweet boy, if she loves you, then she’ll hear you out. It’s not the apology, it’s the act of acknowledging their feelings that matters.”
“But what if you’re wrong?”
“Then what have you really lost?”
I open my mouth and then close it again. He’s right, of course, and I’m stunned silent.
“If that doesn’t work, just remember women love when you lick—”
“And on that note, I’m going to call my therapist,” I interrupt, and now he’s cackling.
“I’ll see you tonight?”
“Possibly.” I look at the cottage and hope that I’m there long enough to convince Glenda not to throw me out. “I guess if my apology works, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Then good luck. I love you, son.”
“Love you too, Dad,” I say before I hang up and tuck my phone in my pocket.
All I can do is hope that the sight of these roses gives me enough time to keep her from shutting the door in my face. Then I’ll get to groveling, because my dad is right. I don’t only want myself to be happy, I want that for Glenda too.