Page 15 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

The relief on Seb’s face doesn’t escape me.

“Fine.” I take off my guitar. “Let’s practice again in the morning, so we’re ready to go on stage tomorrow night.”

“Dude.” Seb puts his guitar in its case. “Onstage? A corner doesn’t count as a stage, and we’ve played here a million times. No one cares if we mess up. They’re just glad they have something to do.”

“I care if we mess up.” After snapping my case closed, I shut down the mics and amplifier.

I still have energy to burn, and I’m not ready to go home, especially knowing Evie is upstairs. I’ve liked not having a neighbor in the old Victorian house Zach renovated into condos. I’d planned on buying it from him so Dakota and I could live in one and rent out the other while we built our dream home. Obviously, that didn’t work out, but that doesn’t mean I want a neighbor now.

“If we’re practicing in the morning, I need to get some rest. You okay locking up by yourself?” Bear lumbers away without waiting for an answer, ready to hibernate. My baby brother plays hard and sleeps harder.

Seb lets out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll be here. But I think you need to ask yourself why you really want to practice more. If it’s about pouring all your heartache over Dakota into music, maybe you could add something else into your routine. Like running. Or… dating. Because it’s been five months, and I can’t take much more of this uber-grouchy Adam.” Seb presses his lips together and raises his heavy eyebrows.

My Aunt Gia, Seb’s mom, has given me the same look a million times whenever I misbehave. But Seb stops short of swearing at me in Italian like Aunt Gia does.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I straighten tables and chairs that don’t need to be straightened. “And there’s no one to date here, anyway.”

“There’s at least one woman, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off her tonight.” Seb’s face moves from scolding to smirking, and I like this face even less.

“Not interested. She’s all yours.”

He scoffs. “She’s not interested in me, which is a first. She barely gave me the time of day with you around.” He finishes packing up his guitar and rolls his shoulders back.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” I wipe invisible crumbs from a table. “Double check the mics and amps are shut off.”

He doesn’t move, just stands up straighter. “It’s time to move on, man. Dakota’s not coming back.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about.” I enunciate each word slowly and carefully, keeping my temper at a simmer.

Seb holds up his hands, then reaches for his guitar case. “Got it. Let Adam keep being a pouty butthole. Will do.”

“Butthole? Are you ten?” I shoot him my most intimidating look. This conversation really needs to be over.

“Just trying to keep it clean, bro.”

I huff a breath and roll my eyes. Seb knows how to turn the heat down before I can boil over by adding some humor. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed with him. “Keep it clean somewhere else. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He heads for the door in long strides, his smirk still intact.

“And be on time!” I yell too late. The door closes behind him.

I let out a long breath. He said everything he said as gently as he could. I don’t like this version of myself any more than anyone else does. I just don’t know how to stop being sad.

The only time I feel right is when I’m playing music. If this show tomorrow night brings in some business, it won’t just be good for my wallet, it will be good for my soul.

I glance toward the door again, but I’m not thinking of Seb. A low current of electricity buzzes under my skin when I picture Evie watching me from that same spot.

Maybe Seb’s right, though. Maybe what I need is to date. Not to start a new relationship, just to get Dakota out of my head. And maybe Evie is the perfect person to start with since she’ll be leaving once the house is done.

I flip off the lights, lock the doors, and try to talk myself into doing what, on the surface, sounds like a good plan. If I were the kind of guy who’d ever dated more than one woman at a time. Or even the kind of guy who’d ever dated more than one woman.

But I’m not.

I’m the kind of guy who falls hard fast and commits for twelve years. I’m not interested in dating for fun or as a diversion. And I’m definitely not interested in falling in love again. The kind of love Dakota and I had only strikes once. It didn’t stick. Maybe that part wasn’t my fault, but that doesn’t mean I get a second chance.

I walk across the dark parking lot of the Garden, passing an F-150 on my way. The truck has to be Evie’s because no one else left a vehicle parked at the restaurant, but I’m surprised. I pictured her more as a Tesla or Audi kind of girl.

The grass in the front yard of the old Victorian mansion turned condo units is turning brown and brittle now that the days are colder. When the house was first built in 1898, it was the biggest in Paradise, and the lawn used to be twice the size it is now that they’ve widened the road. Similar, but smaller, brick houses with gables lined the street back then, too.

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