Page 83 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

She had on her fitted bridesmaid dress, but her hands were empty of any bouquet. Zach, as my best man, should have been by her side to escort her down the aisle. Instead, he was in the bride’s room talking to Dakota. Georgia’s quick, tiny steps outpaced the organist who, not realizing what was happening, still played the wedding march.

I thought I couldn’t hurt any more than I had that day. I was wrong. This is worse. Without an audience to witness what’s happened between Evie and me, I realize that a lot of my wedding day hurt stems from the public humiliation that went with it. I’m ready to admit that when I saw Georgia at the opposite end of the aisle, I instinctively knew what was about to happen. And there was a moment of intense relief.

Everyone’s gaze was on Georgia until the music stopped as she whispered in my ear. Then all eyes were on me, and relief turned to shame.

Then blame.

I glance at Evie. She has her head against the cold window, her eyes closed. It’s pitch-black outside, but the dashboard provides enough light to see wet spots glistening on her cheek. If I were a better man, I’d wipe away her tears and take her hand. I’d forget everything. I’d tell her to stay in Paradise forever.

But I don’t.

I don’t say anything until we crest the last mountain top and descend into Paradise Valley. It’s November twentieth. Houses are lit up with Christmas lights that not only indicate which houses are occupied by locals, but also illuminate the whole mountainside with spots of white, green, red, yellow, and blue.

Evie opens her eyes and gasps. “It’s beautiful. Like driving into the North Pole.”

She’s right. This is my favorite time of the year. Seeing all the lights still takes my breath away, and I hate that I’m not sharing it with her the way I’d hoped to today.

I lick my lips and force back some of the bitterness threatening to take away everything I love about my home and the people who live here. “It is the North Pole. The whole town turns into a Christmas village. People come from all over for the Christmas parade the day after Thanksgiving and to see Santa.”

“Nick is Santa, isn’t he!” Evie’s excitement threatens to pull a smile from me, but I quickly tuck it away and answer with a simple nod.

She responds to my nod with dampened excitement. “I remember Georgia telling me about it now. Her parents have something to do with it, don’t they?” The reaching in her voice kills me. She’s grasping for anything that might bridge the space between us. The space I’m determined to keep.

“They used to before they moved. Mom took over but couldn’t do it last year after she got sick. A newcomer took over, but it wasn’t the same.” I navigate the winding road slowly, more carefully than I need to. Even after everything that’s happened, I’m not ready for this day to end. I don’t know what happens next with Evie, but saying good night feels too final.

“What was different?”

I shrug. “The feel. Some traditions Georgia’s mom and my mom—and their moms before that—had always included that the new person let go. Like having kids wear Danish costumes and do a traditional dance the way we did when I was a kid.”

“That sounds kind of cute.”

“It was. I guess. I hated doing it then, but I missed seeing it last year when I came home for Christmas.” What I really hated was that, for the first time I could remember, Mom wasn’t part of everything. That’s when I really decided I had to move home. I wish I could share that with Evie.

“Why didn’t this newcomer include it?”

“I don’t know,” my words come out short, even though it’s not Evie I’m annoyed with. At least not about the Christmas parade. “She said kids didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“You mean, like you didn’t want to when you were their age?” Evie says the words slowly, like she’s working out what the answer may be while she’s asking the question.

“It’s not the same. We didn’t want to do it, but it’s tradition, so we did.”

“Hmm.” Evie looks like she might say more, but she goes quiet. She looks out the window and doesn’t say anything else until I pull into the driveway.

Disappointment sits in my chest, burning cold as frostbite. I don’t know what to say after I park. I’ve cooled down enough that I don’t want to run inside, but the air is too thin in my truck to be this close to Evie. I need space to breathe. At the same time, I don’t want to risk tearing down what we’ve started to build.

I’m relieved when she doesn’t bolt out of the truck, and I wait to turn off the engine, allowing her the next move. I notice a car idling at the curb, and I’m looking in my rearview mirror to see who it is when Evie speaks.

“You know, Adam,” she says quietly while she tugs her knit cap over her ears. “Georgia and I are going to use as much material as possible from the old cabins in the new houses, just like with her place.” She pulls on her mittens, keeping her eyes on her hands. “We’re not erasing the place you love. We’re transforming it into something new that will allow Paradise to grow. I know you don’t like that idea, but change is necessary for growth. You might need to embrace it the same way you think I need to embrace all my emotions.”

“It’s not the same.” My eyes go back to her, but my argument is weaker than gas station coffee, and Evie knows it.

She lets out a frustrated sigh and reaches for the door handle, but stops before pulling it and shoots me an angry look. “What’s more important, Adam? People or places? I think you can be happy anywhere with the right person. But you’re going to have to decide which you want more: me to stay in Paradise, or Paradise to stay the same. You have the petition that can stop development, including Georgia’s project, but that means kicking me out of Paradise, too.”

I’ve never seen her mad like this; not even when she yelled at Zach and me to shut up. Because it’s not just anger this time, it’s hurt too. I’m choosing Paradise over her, just like Dakota chose New York over me.

I have to think of something to say before she goes. I open my mouth. Words are on the tip of my tongue. Evie looks at me expectantly, but then her jaw drops with surprise.

Someone knocks on my window, and I jump.

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