Page 78 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

This isn’t the first time I’ve held his hand, but something about this time is better. I can’t feel the ground underneath me anymore. It’s there. I can see it. But I’m floating.

A feeling that is ridiculous, because all we’re doing is holding hands. I’m not in middle school anymore. I shouldn’t have butterflies in my stomach or pounding in my heart or any of those other cliches. I’m a grown woman.

But thingsaredifferent now. Adam is still the same man who makes me work to get a smile out of him, but now I appreciate the effort that takes. At first, I thought he couldn’t smile. Now I know he doesn’t feel compelled to smile through hard things. He’s a man who isn’t afraid to wear his broken heart in public. A man who loves his mom and will let himself be sad that he’s losing her. A man who’s been hurt but is doing the work to forgive his brother.

He’s a man who can teach me how to sit with my own emotions and be okay feeling them.

And maybe I’m the woman who can help bring out his smile a little more often.

Chapter 36

Adam

As Evie and I work our way past the chip aisle toward the restaurant portion of the building, I tilt my head to the display. “You want to stop here or keep going?”

She answers by pulling my hand and walking faster.

Vijay, the owner’s son, meets us at the opening. “Good to see you again, Adam.” We hug, and he leads us to my favorite table.

Evie sits across from me, where she can see the view of the mountains through the window behind me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to these mountains. They’re so… I don’t know. Majestic?” She laughs. “That sounds so dramatic, but I can’t think of another word to describe them.”

“That one’s good.” I hope she enjoys the view of me as much as she does the scenery. I slide my foot between hers and lightly tap the tip of her boot to remind her I’m here, too.

She smiles and leans across the table, laying her hand, palm up, across it. “This is a very good date. Thank you.”

I take her hand just as Vijay arrives with the menus, and I have to let go of it too soon. But our feet still touch, and the connection warms my whole body. Outside, the sky is gray, and snow falls in big, gentle flakes that make the red and gold accented interior of Tandoori Oven brighter and cozier.

“You know what you want?” Evie asks.

You. This to never end.

I keep my eyes on the menu to keep from saying those words aloud. “Tikka masala and mango lassi. How about you? Are we sharing?”

“That’s the only way to do Indian, don’t you think?” She closes the menu and slides it to the edge of the table. “Lamb vindaloo, okay?”

I nod. “My favorite. And samosas.”

“Always. But I’m buying lunch.”

I lift my eyebrows. “I told you I was paying.”

She shakes her head and stops my protest. “You’re taking an entire day to help me, so I’m buying lunch. You can get dinner. Put away any neanderthal ideas about a man always paying.”

My eyebrows drop, and I smile. “I was just going to say thank you. I’m a feminist, remember?”

Vijay sets a basket of naan in front of us, and I wait for Evie to take one before I do. “Happy to let you buy. Especially if we’re planning on dinner together, too.”

“Good.” She smiles and hands her menu to Vijay. “But you order.”

I tell Vijay what we want, throwing in an order of saag paneer and a side of mango chutney. He hustles away and a comfortable silence falls between Evie and me. I say something small and unimportant to fill the space, just to hear her voice in reply.

Evie answers, then leans across the table and rests her chin on top of her raised hands. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends on the question.” I grab a piece of naan and tear it in two, a little worried about what may be coming.

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes like she’s thinking. “Maybe it’s more than one, and they’re all about what happened with you and Dakota.”

I slide my foot away from hers and sit straighter. “What do you want to know?”

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