Chapter 8 - Paradise Falls
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One hundred and fifty miles north of Grand Rapids, nestled among the dense pine forests of Grayling, the illusion was beginning to fray.
Nathan woke up on Sunday morning with a throbbing headache and an uncomfortable knot in the pit of his stomach.
The luxury cedar cabin, which had felt so thrilling and illicit on Friday evening, was beginning to feel cold and suffocating.
Evelyn was not the carefree, spontaneous goddess she pretended to be behind her polished social media persona.
Without the sterile structure of the dental office to keep her occupied, she was demanding, sharp-tongued, and relentlessly critical.
She had spent two hours complaining about the water pressure in the guest bathroom shower.
She had scolded Nathan for spilling coffee grounds on the marble island.
She had mocked his casual grey hoodie, telling him he looked like a college sophomore who had wandered into an executive retreat.
Nathan sat at the pine dining table, staring at his smartphone.
There were no text messages from Claire.
No missed calls.
No frantic questions asking when he was coming home or whether he had remembered to take his allergy medication.
For sixteen months, Claire had been his constant, stabilizing anchor.
Whenever Nathan felt anxious or overwhelmed, Claire was there with an encouraging word, a hot meal, and a practical solution.
Her complete and total silence over the past forty-eight hours felt unnatural.
It unsettled him in a way he could not articulate.
He tapped his screen, opened their message thread, and stared at her last response from Friday afternoon: “Enjoy your weekend, Nathan.”
The four words felt icy, detached, and utterly devoid of warmth.
“Are you going to stare at that cheap phone all morning, or are you going to take me to brunch?” Evelyn snapped from the kitchen doorway.
She was wearing an oversized designer sweater and sunglasses, holding an empty ceramic mug.
“I thought we were going to cook the eggs we bought yesterday,” Nathan muttered defensively.
Evelyn rolled her eyes with visible disgust.
“I don't cook on vacation, Nathan.”
“There is an upscale lodge five miles down the river that does an artisan champagne brunch.”
“Go put on that charcoal button-down shirt I told you to pack.”
“And leave the ratty sneakers in the bedroom.”
Nathan swallowed his rising frustration and stood up from the table.
He was beginning to realize that Evelyn’s glamorous lifestyle required constant, exhausting maintenance.
She did not want an equal partner; she wanted an obedient, stylish accessory to showcase on her social media feeds.
At the lodge, Evelyn ordered two bottles of imported prosecco, smoked salmon platters, and poached eggs with truffles.
She spent forty minutes adjusting the lighting on her phone, rearranging the silverware, and forcing Nathan to pose for candid photos.
She did not ask him a single question about his life, his family, or his goals.
She talked endlessly about her former husband’s lack of ambition and her desire to buy a winter property in Scottsdale.
Nathan smiled stiffly, nodded at the appropriate moments, and took large gulps of champagne to dull his growing irritation.
He found himself thinking about Sunday mornings at the Fulton Street farmers market with Claire.
He remembered how Claire would laugh when he bought too many fresh pastries, and how she would lean her head against his shoulder while they picked out heirloom tomatoes.
With Claire, he had never felt the need to audition for approval.
He had thrown away genuine peace for a shiny, hollow imitation.
When the server finally laid the leather bill folder on the mahogany table, Evelyn did not even glance at it.
She simply looked at Nathan, arched her penciled eyebrows, and tapped her manicured nails against her water glass.
“Be a gentleman and take care of brunch, honey,” she purred with a patronizing smirk.
May you like
Nathan reached into his back pocket, pulled out the navy blue debit card connected to his joint account with Claire, and dropped it into the folder.
He had no idea that the card in his hand was nothing more than a useless strip of molded plastic.
