The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(90)

Elias stood, rubbing his temples with one hand. “What did you do to piss her off so bad?”

“I told her I loved her.” He still loved her. Even though his heart was hurting, that was never going to change.

“Those aren’t the kinds of words that make people turn around and stab you in the back,” Elias said. “There’s got to be more.”

“Her job is on the line.” His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. “She needs clients and entertainment law was her dream. It’s why I introduced her to Bob and why I was going to take her to Moskovitz’s birthday party. What haven’t we sacrificed for this dream?”

“We haven’t thrown anyone we cared about under the bus,” Elias retorted. “I just can’t believe it. Zara wears her feelings on her sleeve. It’s all out there for everyone to see. She’s not the kind of person to pull an underhanded move like this.”

“Why are you defending her?” Jay snapped. “You hardly know her.”

“Because you do know her, and you know something isn’t right. I can see it in your face. I can hear it in your voice. Send her a message or call her. Find out what’s going on. I’m sure it isn’t what it seems.”

Jay grabbed his phone and sent Zara a quick text asking her to call. He studied the screen and then showed it to Elias. “No delivery notification. I’ve been blocked.”

“Maybe she’s not staring at her phone,” Elias said. “Try her office.”

Jay called her office and the receptionist informed him that she’d been instructed not to put through any of his calls. “It’s over,” he said to Elias, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Everything is over. The international expansion. The dream . . .”

And Zara. He’d pushed too hard and she was never coming back.



* * *



? ? ?

“You’re staring at that seating plan like you want to destroy it.” Dressed in an elegant green and gold salwar suit, Parvati leaned against the wall outside the dance hall where Avi and Soroya’s sangeet was about to begin.

“Jay was supposed to be at my table but someone crossed out his name.” She tapped the handwritten scribble. “I don’t know how I feel about it. On one hand, it would have been awkward if he knew about the lawsuit. How would I have let him know I accepted the case solely to save him from an unscrupulous firm that wouldn’t care enough to make sure they were suing the right company? On the other hand, what if he hadn’t found out and he wanted to talk? I could hardly ignore him if we were sitting at the same table. And we do need to clear the air.”

“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.”