“Why are you worrying about it?” Parvati grabbed her and pulled her into a small alcove just as a group of aunties paraded by. “He’s not going to be at your table. In fact, I don’t see his name on any of the singles tables, so maybe he isn’t coming.”
Zara’s breath caught in her throat. “What if he’s at a couples table, Parv? What if I hurt him so badly that he decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore, and he found someone new? Oh my God! What if I have to see him with another woman? And then what if they hit the dance floor and he has incredible moves and it’s all because of me? I’ll be kicking myself for taking his love and throwing it in his face because I’m such a coward.” She staggered back to the nearest wall. “I can’t handle it. I can’t be here if he’s with someone else. It might even be too late. His mother wouldn’t see me at the hospital the last time I went to visit. I think she knows what I did to her son.”
“Get a grip.” Exasperation showed on Parvati’s face. “You’d better go to your table. I have to find Faroz and get to ours. He said he has to keep a low profile at big events because people from his past might try to kill him. I think he’s been hiding in the restroom.”
“？‘Ours’？？” Zara checked the seating list. “We’re not at the same table?”
“I decided at the last minute to bring Faroz as a plus-one, so I’m at the couples table tonight.”
Zara sucked in a breath, her stomach twisting in a knot. “But we’re singles. We don’t belong at the couples table, Parv. You can’t do this to me. You can’t leave me alone.”
“You won’t be alone.” Parvati’s voice dropped to a soothing tone. “You can always come over and talk to me and see what it’s like on the other side. I’m sitting two tables away. This isn’t the reception. No one is really here for the food. We’ll be at the table an hour at most and then we’ll be dancing the night away.”
“Beta! Look who is here!”
Zara’s punishment for not moving fast enough to her table was Bushra Auntie and a skinny dude with a thin mustache and thick glasses who didn’t look a day over eighteen.
“Bajaj is my cousin’s husband’s brother’s uncle’s boy here from New York. Thirty-two and already the CEO of a successful juice company.” Bushra clapped her hands in excitement. “They have all juices: mango, apple, orange, pineapple, grape, carrot, cucumber, beet, cantaloupe, celery, cherry, clam, spinach, strawberry—”
“I’ve got it, Auntie-ji.”
“。 . . wheatgrass, watercress, vegetable, plum, lychee, turnip, guava, tomato, and prune—I do like a nice glass of prune juice in the morning. Keeps things regular.”
Zara cringed inside. Unlike most of her family who delighted in having long-winded discussions about body ailments, Zara liked to keep her personal troubles to herself. “That’s . . . um . . . good to know.”
“It’s our best seller,” Bajaj said. “We don’t dilute it. One glass is the equivalent of eating thirty pitted prunes. You see immediate results.”
Was it possible to be a worse salesman? Zara didn’t think so. “Not something I’ve ever really wanted to try, but I’ll make a note of that for middle age.”
“Take this.” He handed her his card, white with a picture of two wrinkled prunes in the background. “If you’re ever in New York and need juice, just give me a call.”
“Thank you.” She tucked the card into her purse. “That’s very kind. I do get thirsty from all that pollution.”
“I’ve got some free juice samples in my car . . .” He smoothed his mustache and gave her an exaggerated wink. “Maybe we could sample them later.” He said sample with a little roll of his shoulders and a shake of his oversize head.
Where was Parvati? Was the dude seriously trying to get it on with her in front of her aunt by luring her to his car with free juice? Parvati would have been in hysterics by now.
“Gosh. Thanks. I’m actually all juiced out for the day. And I’m . . . with someone.” At least she would be if she could get the damn lawsuit out of the way and then find a way to fix things with Jay.
She would fix things. She was smart and capable and a damn good catch and she still had Lin-Manuel Miranda’s name on her arm. If that wasn’t lucky, she didn’t know what else was.
* * *