Page 69 of Best Kept Secret

"We all knew," Katya mumbled. "Which is why we were even more worried. It was stupid. I've always thought I was so open minded, and now I find that I was punishing Mira for somethin' her sister did…who probably was the way she was because of her traumatic childhood." She leaned into her husband. "Trev, I'm a shit human being."

"No, you're not," her husband said, though he probably thought that about himself, as wealldid right now. "We just…we made a mistake. All of us. But the horrible thing is that Mira paid for our failings, and if we can't make this right with her, get her past what we did, Pari will lose her mother."

I was frustrated and annoyed with Mira, too. She had no business shutting down. She had no business walking away from us, from our family. I understood that she'd been hurt, that she was exhausted after what had been years of relentless responsibility—and no one had even said thank you.Fuck, I'd told her she was pathetic. I'd packed her things in a trash bag to let her know that's what she was…trash. If only I could take it all back. If only I hadn't ridden in on anger and confusion, and had just talked to her.

"What do I do?" I asked, my voice cracking. "How do I fix this?"

Nova exchanged a look with Anson before turning back to me. "Youcan'tfix it, Beau. Not right now. All you can do is show her that you're there for her. That you're not giving up on her."

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that when she won't even look at me?" I asked bitterly. "She doesn't want to see me. She doesn't want to see Pari."

Anson walked back to sit with his wife and suggested, "Start small. Let her know you're there, solidly fuckin' there, even if she doesn't want to talk to you. She's going to need time."

"Time," I repeated hoarsely. "How much time? I'm fuckin' fallin' apart here, Anson."

"This ain't aboutyou, Beau," Anson informed me.

I scoffed in self-deprecation. "You think I've been thinkin' too much about myself and not enough about Mira?" I didn't wait for him to answer. "If that's what you're thinkin', you're absolutely right. I fucked up with her. I took her for granted. I didn't see her."

"We'll find a way." Mama looked as miserable as I felt. "We have to find a way to make sure Pari has her mother with her."

"I just can't believe this is happening," I whispered, feeling the frustration, the helplessness, eat away at me. "ShelovesPari, and Pari loves her."

Nova reached out, touching my arm gently. "And she always will. But right now, she doesn't believe she's worthy of that love. That's what therapy is for. She has to rebuild herself."

My throat tightened. Pari had stopped asking for Mira during the day, but every night, she'd fall asleep to Mira's lullaby, the one Mira had recorded and sent to me. And every night, it broke me a little more.

"I'll give her time," I said, my voice rough. "But I'm not giving up. Not on her. Not on Pari. I'll fight for them both."

"We'll be right there with you," my brother vowed.

Chapter 29

Mira

It had been a week since I started working at Savannah Lace, and already, I was falling into a rhythm, a hollow, automatic one that kept me moving but didn't fill the space inside.

Different versions ofit doesn't matterhad become my mantra to live by.

Every time I thought about Pari, pain seared through me, so I stopped thinking about her. I stopped worrying about her sleeping through the night. I stopped thinking about her little hands that she put on my cheeks before she kissed me. I stopped thinking about singingGhum ghum tora shobai ghumto her. I stopped thinking about her calling meMiramashi. I alsostopped thinking about Beau, and waking up with him, of going to sleep in his arms, feeling safe. There would be no safety with Beau ever again. If he kicked me out once, what would stop him from doing it again?

But,it didn't matter, because I didn't care. Not anymore.

That night in my car, I hit rock bottom. I'd thought I'd hit that several times in my twenty-two years, but now I could see that counting Ambien pills and taking them one after the other was probably it. At least I hoped so.

Butit didn't matter. I was here. I was surviving. I was fine. It was all fine. Nothing could hurt me anymore. I wouldn't let anything or anyone touch me again—break me again, bring me down so low that I was ready to give up my humanity, my life.

I was stationed in the old break room while the new kitchen was built, according to my specifications, no less. The space was cramped, with old countertops and a stove that had two settings, low and crazy high, but I made it work. I hadn't had better in the diners where I'd cooked, the ones Beau's family had mocked me about. So, yeah, I wasn't achef, I was acook. It was good, honest work, and it was onthemfor looking down on me for it. Butit didn't matterwhat they thought about me. I wasn't looking for their approval so Beau would accept me as his…what? Girlfriend? Nanny he fucked? What?

The fact that I spent an enormous amount of time thinking about Beau when I kept telling Dr. Ryan thathe doesn't matter…well, the joke was on me, wasn't it?

There was a blessed numbness inside me—the pain seemed far, far away, like when you take heavy-duty painkillers. You know the hurt is there but it's buried under pounds of cotton.

I wrote the day's menu on the chalkboard, the white chalk dust clinging to my fingers. Grilled vegetable paninis with homemade pesto. Butternut squash soup, ‘cause it was in season. Fruit salad with mint and lime. Simple. Clean.

Cooking used to make me feel like I had control, and now, when I was at my lowest, it was my savior. I could get lost in the flavors and the ingredients. I could drown my past and my future—and focus on the now, like what was baking in the oven or roasting on a pan.

Like Dr. Ryan said to me, "You don't live all your minutes in one go…you live them one minute at a time. So, when it all feels too much, just get through one, and then another minute, and then another. Let the storm pass."

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