But the old Aria was gone. Had died somewhere between watching Mama take her last breath and standing up to Papa this morning.
What time?
Sophie's response was immediate: 11. Wear something hot. Tonight we celebrate you LIVING.
I looked at the message for a long time, thinking about Mama. About Papa's promise. About the fact that in three months I might still end up married to Salvatore if Papa couldn't find another way.
Which meant tonight might be my only chance.
I'm in.
By eleven o'clock, I'd changed outfits six times and was seriously reconsidering every life choice that had led me to this moment.
"You look amazing. Stop freaking out." Sophie grabbed my hand and dragged me toward her car before I could bolt back inside. "This is happening."
"I've never been to a club before." My voice came out higher than normal. "What if someone recognizes me? What if Papa finds out? What if—"
"Aria. Breathe." Sophie squeezed my hand. "Tonight, you're not the Romano daughter. You're just a girl celebrating her eighteenth birthday. No last name, no expectations, no creepy old fiancé. Just you."
Just me. When was the last time I'd been just me?
"Besides," Sophie continued, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "You're grieving. You're dealing with loss. Surely everyone will understand if you need one night to let loose and process your feelings with, oh, I don't know, several drinks and maybe some questionable decisions?"
I laughed despite my nerves. "That's a terrible justification."
"But accurate." She started the car. "Your mom just died, Aria. You're allowed to not be perfect for one night."
She was right. About all of it. I'd been so focused on being strong, on holding it together, on being the perfect daughter even in grief that I'd barely let myself feel anything.
Maybe tonight I could just... feel. Everything. The grief, the anger, the desperate need to prove I was alive.
The club was in a part of downtown I'd never been to. Neon lights, bass so loud I could feel it in my chest from the parking lot, a line of people wrapped around the building.
Sophie bypassed all of it, walking straight to the bouncer like she owned the place.
"Hey, Marcus."
The massive man looked down at her and actually smiled. "Sophie. Been a while."
"I've been busy. This is my friend Aria. It's her birthday."
Marcus's eyes swept over me, and I fought the urge to squirm under his assessment. After a moment, he nodded and unclipped the rope. "Happy birthday. Try not to get into too much trouble."
Inside was sensory overload. Bodies packed together on the dance floor, lights strobing in rhythm with music that was more feeling than sound, the smell of sweat and expensive perfume and alcohol all mixing together.
I'd never experienced anything like it. And I loved it immediately.
Sophie pulled me through the crowd to the bar. "Two shots of tequila!"
"I don't drink!"
"You do tonight!" She pressed a shot glass into my hand. "To living!"
The tequila burned going down, and I coughed while Sophie laughed. But she wasn't wrong—the warmth spreading through my chest felt like courage taking root.
"Okay." Sophie was already scanning the crowd with predatory interest. "What's the plan?"
"Plan?"
