Grief was a nasty bitch. She played with your head and she made you question your actions, your thoughts, your feelings. With each passing day, I felt like a different person. I really wanted to feel like me again.
“You know I would never downplay your grief, but I’ve been online a lot, trying to figure out how to help you through all this.”
“Okay.”
“Have you heard the ball-in-the-box theory?”
“No.”
“Okay, so the theory is this that there’s this box, and inside the box, there’s a grief button and a ball. When you first lose someone, the ball is really large, and it hits the button constantly. Over and over again, it hits. Right now, your ball is really big. You’re hitting that button all the time, and it’s setting you up for these massive mood swings and episodes where you feel out of control.”
“That makes sense.”
“The size of the box remains constant, but over time that ball gets smaller, so when it bounces around the box, it doesn’t hit the button as often. Eventually, you’re going to have more feelings of normalcy; you’re going to feel more like yourself again. That doesn’t mean the ball won’t hit the button, because it will. One woman commented on the article that she was having a great day and then in the middle of the produce department, a man reminded her of her dad and she lost it. The ball hit the button.”
“Okay, so…”
“I just think that you have to live your life. Knowing you as I do, you’ll always honor Abuela, because that’s just who you are. You’ll honor her with your choices and your memories. You’ll honor her by taking care of your mother, calling more often, and being maybe a little less snippy when she asks about your love life.”
“Noted,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Abuela would never want you to put your life on hold for her. Far from it. I’ve met the woman; she wanted you to live a beautiful life.”
“And?”
“And I think your life with Dev would be all kinds of beautiful. Is he perfect? No, he can be a real asshole sometimes. But guess what? So can Peter. We’re all perfectly imperfect, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, but look at how we fight. You and Peter don’t fight like that.”
“Comparison is the thief of joy, Lyra.”
“Ugh, you’re like a philosopher today. What the hell?”
She shrugged. “I told you. I went down the Google rabbit hole.”
“Lovely,” I said, rolling my eyes again.
“The ball is going to hit the button regardless of what you decide. But you have a right to be happy.”
“But what if I can’t trust him?”
“I don’t know everything there is to know about the man. I do know this, though, and I know it for certain. Dev isn’t a cheater, and if I’d known that was a legitimate concern of yours, I would have set you straight a very long time ago. I’m so sorry I didn’t.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I was too afraid to say the words out loud. If I verbalized it, I was afraid it would be true.”
“So, just think it through. If you don’t want to be with him, that’s a whole other story. But I know you, Lyra. I know you really, really well. You love him.”
I cringed at the word. A tear formed in my eye. “I do, and I’ve never felt this way before. What if he destroys me?”
“Or what if he makes you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life? Isn’t it worth finding out? Abuela would want that for you. She’d want you to be brave, to take a risk and follow that big, beautiful heart of yours.”
“To have a beautiful life,” I said with a nod, tears forming in my eyes.
“Exactly,” Maren said. “Now, c’mon. I’m hungry.”
“Just a second. I have to send a quick text.”
With adrenaline coursing through my belly, I sent a text to Dev:
-I’m ready.
Chapter 27
DEV
I was eating at my beautiful new mahogany desk when I heard the text come through. Quite honestly, I almost ignored it because I was completely engrossed in whether my girl Lizzy Bennet would finally get her head on straight and marry Mr. Darcy. I was seriously pissed at her when she turned down his proposal. I mean, what the hell? She was opinionated and stubborn…and she reminded me of Lyra, so I secretly loved her despite the fact that she frustrated the crap out of me. And I seriously couldn’t put the book down.
I’d already read Sense & Sensibility. I started it Sunday morning and finished it that same day. I had to hand it to Buzzfeed, they nailed it with their quiz. Marianne was definitely like me—impulsive, free-spirited, and she wore her heart on her sleeve. Although I would never have fallen for Willoughby’s shit. I mean, seriously, what a dick! Knocking a girl up, then fleeing to London to marry a sugar mama? The dude was fucked up. And I was learning that Jane Austen was much more scandalous than I’d assumed. I kinda liked her.
When I hit a good stopping point in Pride & Prejudice, I reluctantly put the book down and looked at my phone. And with two little words, my life was made.
-I’m ready.
Jumping out of my chair, I threw my fist in the air. “Yes!” I yelled, kicking my chair across the room. It slammed into the wall, but I didn’t care. I was freaking ecstatic. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Hey, you okay?” Julian, the engineer in the office next to mine, popped his head in my office.
“Yeah, sorry, man. Just, uh, got some really good news,” I said, beaming as I ran my hand through my hair. I didn’t even care if I was disheveled for my one o’clock meeting. My co-workers would have to deal with the fact I was the happiest man alive.
Julian smiled and left as quickly as he came. Throwing my arms into the air one last time, I grabbed my phone and texted Maren.
-I need your help. Grand gesture. You, me, let’s do this. SHE’S READY and I can’t do it without you.
-Wait! She is?!?! Holy crap!! Why didn’t she tell me??
-Um…because she told ME.
- Um…no, I mean I’m WITH her right now, like sitting across from her at lunch.
-MARE! This is important.
-Okay, fine! Want to meet for dinner tonight?
-Yes!
-LOL Okay, let’s meet at Bennet’s.
-Why there? You’re not exactly a fan.
-Neither is Lyra…
-Got it! 7:00?
-See you then!
With anticipation stirring in my belly and ideas flying through my brain like the winged monkeys of Oz, I grabbed my book and dove back in.
“C’mon, Lizzy. Get your man!”
Hours later, Maren and I had concocted the best plan ever. Maren didn’t understand most of it, but she was going to help get Lyra out of her apartment. We figured their Thursday night yoga class would be the perfect way. And that would give me a full day to plan everything else, get my ducks in a row, and make sure I had everything just perfect.
Lyra deserved nothing less than perfect.
“You should probably start calling florists now.”
“What do you mean? It’s spring; they should have tons of these.”