Zara glared at her. “That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard. Was that supposed to cheer me up? Are you telling me that if I hook up with Jay, some Russian agent is going to come and slit our throats, but it’s okay if we’re dead because that’s true love?”
Parvati sighed. “The point was they were meant to be together.”
“I’m not meant to be with anyone. That’s what I told him. I thought he understood that. I thought we were having a good time. And then . . .” She opened and closed her fist in the air. “Bombshell. I love you. Way to ruin a good thing.”
“You do realize that you’ve never done this after any other breakup.” Parvati licked her spoon. “There has never been any sobbing through Les Misérables while stuffing your face with ice cream. What do you think that means?”
Zara shrugged. “No one else ever said I love you.”
“You never gave anyone else a chance.” She put her feet up on the table and grabbed the remote. Usually Zara found something else to do when Parvati started flipping through crime shows and autopsy cases, but tonight they suited her mood.
She ate a spoonful of ice cream, but didn’t register the taste. “So, you’re saying it was opportunistic? If I’d given anyone else a chance, they would have fallen in love with me, too?”
Parvati paused at a true crime show. “I’m saying you let him in for a reason. You gave him that chance for a reason. Some part of you knew you could trust him with your heart. Now you’re hurting because that’s what happens when you love someone, and you can’t be with them anymore.”
When you love someone . . .
“Oh God.” Her heart skipped a beat, stuttered in her chest. She knew this feeling. The sickening devastation of loss. The terror of the unknown. The uncertainty about a future in which love wasn’t forever—it stopped.
At least she had thought it stopped.
But if it stopped, she wouldn’t be here on the couch eating too much ice cream and preparing herself to weep uncontrollably from the start of Valjean’s soliloquy to the moment he walked into the beautiful candlelight. Instead, she would be at her father’s loft celebrating that one of her cousins got a B-plus on a test—her father used any excuse for a party so he could play his drums and dance.
“Parvati . . .”
“Took you a while.” She scooped some more ice cream from her container.
“It hurts but it’s not destroying me.” She made a quick silent assessment of her body. No pain. No bruises. No restricted mobility. No weak joints or trembling hands. Yes, her heart ached, and yes, she felt sad. But with a little ice cream and some sorrowful singing, she had a feeling she’d be okay.
“That’s because you’re not eleven years old.” Parvati settled on a rerun of Autopsy: Confessions of a Medical Examiner and relaxed back on the couch. “You are in control of your life. You can make your own choices. You can write your own story—or musical, since it’s you we’re talking about. You can give this one a happy ending.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Her voice rose in agitation. “I crushed him, Parv. He said he loved me and I ran out of there like Hamilton tickets were on sale.”
Parvati tore her gaze away from the chainsaw-wielding medical examiner. “I hope you didn’t break anything on your way out.”
Zara put the lid on her ice cream and returned it to the freezer. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to love someone. I don’t know how to be loved in a romantic way. And why me? Why would he fall for me? I’m a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Maybe he likes disasters,” Parvati said. “Maybe he’s wound up so tight he looks at you and sees a path to happiness. Maybe he sees what we all see. That you are utterly and completely worthy of love.”
Emotion welled up in Zara’s throat. She was saved from an embarrassing flood of tears when the ME on TV started his chainsaw and sliced into the body on the table. “I need to visit my dad. I want to ask him about the divorce. We never really talked about it, and I think before I make any decisions, I need to understand what really happened.”
“Does that mean I can eat your ice cream?” Parvati held up her empty container.
Zara twisted her lips to the side, considering. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how to walk this path. I think you’d better leave it for me. Just in case.”
* * *
? ? ?