below me, the basement hums with a good time. But up here, in the guest suite, it’s silent. Deathly so.
I wrap my hands around the mug of hot cocoa and squeeze myself onto the windowsill. Rain streaks the glass, and on the other side of it, yellow headlamps come and go in a smeary blur as guests I’ve never met arrive at my bachelorette party.
This night was meticulously planned out on my five-year vision board, the one I made when I was eighteen and had yet to be corrupted. I’d cut out a gorgeous red satin dress from the pages of Vogue; stuck on Polaroids of all my friends I’d invite. But that’s the thing about plans: they change.
I rest my forehead against the window as another car rolls onto the drive. Immediately, I recognize the obnoxiously loud voice escaping from it: Alberto. But I can hear that he’s not alone. Using the sleeve of my robe to wipe away the condensation, I squint down at the driveway. He emerges from the car, two women around my age dangling off either arm. I run my tongue over my teeth and immediately sour. His bachelor party was at a strip club in Devil’s Cove, and no doubt, he’s picked up some employees to bring back to the after-party. Which also happens to be his fiance’s bachelorette party. I couldn’t care less about him groping other girls—rather them than me—but it’s the blatant disrespect that irks me.
A bitter laugh escapes my lips, and I take another sip of lukewarm cocoa.
Yes, plans change because life throws you constant curveballs. That’s why I had several of them. The first was simple; marry Alberto to stop him building in the Preserve, thus forcing my dementia-ridden father out into a world he no longer recognizes. That changed when I found out Alberto didn’t even own the darn land, but planned on tying me to him anyway.
The second plan, to rely on Angelo, was a naive and stupid one. One fueled by lust and adrenaline, built on false promises and fluttering heartbeats. The only plan I know I can rely on is the one that involves only myself. That’s why I’m back to one of my original plans. The one I concocted on the very edge of the cliff in Devil’s Dip.
It’ll be the ultimate sin. A steep upgrade from spitting in mouthwashes and keying car doors and perhaps when I first thought of it, up there on the cliff, it was nothing but a sick fantasy. But I’m different now. I’m hardened by betrayal and humiliation, and I am ready.
I set the mug on the dresser, cross the room, and double-lock the door. Then, I slip my robe off and slide between the sheets. The party rages on underneath me, but in my mind, it’s quiet. I’ve found peace, knowing that when I fall, I don’t need Angelo to catch me.
I’ll plunge right into the dark abyss, and it’ll welcome me with open arms.
