Page 79 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

“She left because she didn’t want to stay in Paradise, right?” She looks from me to Vijay, who appears at that moment with our samosas. I’m grateful for the few seconds he gives me to put off answering.

“These are the biggest you’ll find anywhere. And the most delicious.” He sets the steaming samosas between us. “Enjoy.”

I answer Evie’s question, but my eyes dart to Vijay as I do. “That’s what she said.”

When my eyes come back to Evie, her expression shuffles from sympathetic to surprised and lands on amused, and I realize I’ve made an unintentional Michael Scott joke. We both laugh at my mistake, which does the trick of loosening my chest.

“I mean, that’s whatDakotasaid.”

Evie’s smile slowly drops. “So why didn’t you follow her back to New York? You’d already followed her there once,” she asks carefully, like she’s tiptoeing around a sleeping baby. “I know it’s none of my business, I just… I don’t know how you let someone you love… go.”

If I hadn’t just been laughing, the anger bubbling in my chest might boil over. But I know it’s not the kind of anger that can be productive. This anger comes straight from my ego. Because I’ve asked myself a million times if things would have been different if I’d gone after Dakota. I’ve wondered if it’s my wounded pride that kept me from doing it, or if it was the right choice.

I press two fingers along a crease in the white tablecloth, but the wrinkle remains. It’s deep enough that even a hot iron couldn’t take it out. Some things can’t be smoothed over.

“We came back because of Mom,” I start, still looking at the permanent line. “Dad needed more help at the store than my brothers and sister could give, and Mom couldn’t run the Garden anymore. My sister was already running Britta’s. I didn’t want Mom to sell the Garden.” I raise my eyes to hers, and the concern there comforts me into saying more. “Dakota worked from home, mostly. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to leave the city.”

“I guess it was a big deal?”

I exhale a staggered breath. “She missed being there.”

“You didn’t?”

I shake my head. “And I didn’t notice that she did, if that’s what you’re going to ask next.”

“It wasn’t. Sometimes we need to look deeper,” she says, repeating my words from earlier. “Other times we’re too close to see what’s right there.”

“I guess so. But she didn’t have a problem telling Zach how she felt. Only me.” I tear off a piece of samosa with my fork and stick it in my mouth. She’s said that about being too close before. It resonated then, but I don’t know now.

“Telling Zach her feelings wasn’t going to hurt him, was it?”

“I guess not. But she should have known talking to my brother instead of me would end up hurting me more than hearing it from her.” I run my hands over my thighs. Talking about what happened never gets easier. “Any more questions?”

Evie shakes her head just as Vijay appears with a tray full of silver bowls. He sets them on the table and lifts the covers, pointing to each one as he does. “This is the vindaloo. This one is the tikka. And this is the paneer.” Steam billows from each one, curling in front of Evie, before disappearing above her head.

“Your turn, then.” I dish rice and vindaloo onto the plate she holds toward me.

“For what?”

“Your pain. I’ve told you all mine. It’s only fair you get vulnerable too,” I say lightly, even though I’m very aware how much vulnerability sucks.

“What do you want to know?” She sets down her plate, then sucks masala sauce from her thumb.

My brain goes numb. I don’t want to know anything but how masala tastes when licked off her thumb. “Do that again, please.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I blink my brain back on, and it takes control back from my… well, somewhere else. “You’ve met my whole family. Tell me about yours.”

“I’ve already told you about my family.” She moves her food back and forth, swirling the spinach in the paneer around in a slow circle.

“Only that your dad left. There’s got to be more than that. Do you have step- parents? Siblings? Did your dad live close?” I slide her the last piece of naan, and she looks at me. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’ll only hold a tiny grudge that I spilled my guts, and you didn’t.”

Evie’s rolls her eyes, but my guilt trip does the trick. “My parents divorced when I was ten. My dad moved to Wichita with his mistress,” she says so matter-of-factly that I know she’s still hurting.

“Siblings?” I prod.

“Two. A sister and brother.Half.And a stepsister.” She taps her fingers on the table like she’s impatient for the conversation to be over.

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