"Let's get some fresh air," I say, standing.
She glances at the group, but they’re all deep in conversation. They don’t question us as Grace and I slip out the back of the restaurant.
"Where are we going?" she whispers.
Even her voice sounds defeated. Something's not right.
I want her alone, so I take us down the path of steps that leads to the beach. I stop when I come across a viewing point that shields us from public view.
The ocean roars behind us as I pull her toward me.
"Something's clearly bothering you," I say. "What is it?"
"It's not a big deal," she says, shaking her head. I watch as the wind rearranges her mahogany hair.
"It is a big deal if it's causing you stress," I say. "I don't like seeing you like this.”
She looks out at the turbulent waters below. They’re an inky blue that glisten silver under the moonlight.
"I heard you talking to your sister about a dream,” I say. “Is that what has upset you?”
She blinks a few times, like she’s trying to keep herself from crying. I cup her chin in my hand and make her look at me.
A flash of lightning splits the sky behind us, striking the ocean below. A roll of thunder follows.
"Talk to me, Grace," I say. "I need to know every thought you have in that pretty head."
"They're not pretty thoughts," she says.
"I still want to hear them."
"I have this sick feeling in my stomach that everything's going to end," she says. "She pulled the Death card. She said I had nothing to be worried about and that all I had to do was be strong. I don't know if I have what it takes to be strong when the moment comes. I turn so pathetic every time I'm in front of my mother."
I try to piece together everything she just said. It sounds like she had a bad dream that triggered her.
A drop of water falls on her forehead. She blinks as it rolls down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb and glance up at the sky.
The skies open, violently saturating us with rainwater.
I could take her back to the restaurant, but I'm not done talking to her. Instead, I tug her down the stairs and take her to an alcove that’s been carved into the rock.
"Shouldn't we go back to the restaurant? They’re probably waiting for us," Grace says.
"They can wait," I reply, threading my fingers into her hair. "I want you to keep talking. Tell me every single thing you're worried will happen."
She blinks. "I'm used to keeping those thoughts in my head."
"You don't have to," I tell her.
She fastens those pretty brown eyes on me. And like always, my entire world screeches to a halt.
"My mother has always found a way to ruin every good thing in my life," she says. "Every time I found happiness in something, she found a way to take that from me. And..."
She looks at the ground for a moment and then back up at me.
"And?" I say.
"And I found something I never want to lose," she says. "I don't want to lose you, Dante. That's my biggest fear right now. That I'll have a taste of heaven and then everything will go to ruin immediately after."
