50. （TEMPT）ation
VERENA
50
Ifinished writing my book two months after Auntie died.
I still felt weird saying that.
Auntie was dead.
And I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I knew it’s what she wanted. What Jae needed. What I was supposed to do.
But I did what she asked.
I finished the fucking book.
The moment I typed “The End,” I felt a rush of emotions—pride, relief, sadness—all mingling together in a way that left me breathless. I had poured everything into those pages, writing it for Auntie, for myself, for the future she wanted me to have. I stopped waiting for Jae to call. I stopped asking my mother for updates, though I knew he was still at her house. Somehow, my mother went from hating him to taking care of him, and it eased my heart to know that.
Laura was coming to visit and celebrate my finished book, and I wanted to remember Auntie in my own way. The book had been my refuge, a place to pour all my emotions, my grief, my love, and my memories of Auntie. But in my frantic race to finish it, I realized I hadn’t taken the time to properly celebrate her life. The guilt gnawed at me, a constant reminder that I was failing to honor her as she deserved.
Yes, I was sad. Losing Auntie was devastating, leaving a gaping hole that ached. But I knew Auntie wouldn’t want me to wallow in sorrow. She had always been a beacon of joy and vitality, embracing life with a kind of fearless abandon that I envied. She wanted me to live my life fully, to chase my dreams, to find happiness even in the darkest times.
No one tells you how to navigate the endless waves of sadness, the moments of numbness, the sudden bursts of anger and regret. I felt like I was stumbling through a fog, trying to find my way back to a place where I could breathe again. Feeling sad almost felt like it went against Auntie’s wishes, like I was betraying her memory by succumbing to the darkness.
Auntie had always said, “Life is for the living, darling.” It was her mantra, her way of reminding me to seize the moment, to find joy in the little things, to dance even when the music was too quiet to hear. So, I decided to celebrate her life the way she would have wanted—by living mine.
Laura arrived in the late afternoon, her eyes bright with excitement and a bottle of champagne in hand. “You did it, Verena! You actually did it!”
“I did,” I said, my voice tinged with both pride and melancholy. “And now, I want to celebrate. For Auntie.”
Laura gave me a knowing look. “What do you have in mind?”
“I want to go to a club. Auntie loved wild things. I want to buy expensive drinks and dance. I want to wear a risqué dress and feel human and sexy.”
Laura grinned. “Now you’re talking!”
We spent the next hour getting ready, our movements almost ritualistic as we transformed ourselves from grieving friends into vibrant women ready to seize the night. I stood in front of my closet, my fingers trailing over fabrics and textures until I found it—the slinky black dress that always made me feel powerful. The fabric was smooth and cool against my skin as I slipped it on, the dress hugging my curves in all the right places. It had a plunging neckline that flirted with the edge of propriety and a hemline that teased just above the knee, allowing me to feel both sexy and sophisticated.
I looked in the mirror, adjusting the straps and smoothing out the fabric. My dark hair cascaded in loose waves over my shoulders, and I carefully applied my makeup, accentuating my eyes with smoky shadows and adding a bold red lip for a pop of color. I wanted to feel alive, to embody the spirit Auntie had always admired in me.
Laura, on the other hand, chose a sparkly silver number that shimmered with every move she made. The dress was a mini, ending mid-thigh and adorned with tiny sequins that caught the light, creating a dazzling effect. Her blonde hair was styled in soft curls, and she opted for a more natural makeup look, with just a hint of shimmer on her eyelids and a glossy nude lip.
We stood side by side in front of the full-length mirror, taking in our transformed appearances. The disparity between us was striking—me in my sleek, black dress, radiating a sort of edgy elegance, and Laura in her sparkling silver, emanating a playful, carefree vibe. Yet, in our reflections, I saw the same tenacity in both our eyes, the same readiness to embrace the night ahead.
“Wow,” Laura said, adjusting a curl of her hair and turning to give me an appraising look. “You look incredible, Verena. Auntie would be so proud.”
I smiled, feeling a swell of affection for my friend. “Thanks, Laura. You look amazing too. Ready to show the Hamptons how it’s done?”
She laughed, the sound light. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”
With one last look in the mirror, we nodded in approval, our outfits a testament to our resolve to celebrate, to remember Auntie in a way she would have loved. We grabbed our clutches, mine a sleek black leather, hers a sparkling silver to match her dress, and headed out the door, ready to take on the night.
“Tonight, we’re celebrating you, Auntie, and living life to the fullest,” Laura said.
We arrived at the club in the Hamptons, the neon lights reflecting off the dark water nearby. Inside, the music was loud, the bass thumping in my chest. The crowd was a blend of locals and weekend visitors, all dressed to impress. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses.
I turned to Laura, feeling a rush of excitement. “We’re buying expensive drinks, and it’s on Jae,” I said, holding up his card.
Laura’s eyes widened in delight. “Auntie would have loved that!”
We made our way to the bar, and I found the top shelf liquor that was fifty dollars a glass—something most in the Hamptons wouldn’t blink at. I started ordering with Jae’s card, feeling a naughty thrill. Laura cheered me on, and soon enough, we had a selection of the finest drinks in the house.
“To Auntie,” I said, holding up my glass.
“To Auntie,” Laura echoed, clinking her glass against mine.
As the night wore on, the club became a swirling sea of lights, laughter, and music, each beat of the music syncing with the pounding of my heart. Laura and I had downed several rounds of drinks, our spirits high, our inhibitions low. The world around us blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly free.
Amidst the thrumming bass and the pulsing crowd, a group of guys caught our attention. Their tailored suits and expensive watches were a stark contrast to the casual attire of many others in the club. They had the polished, easy charm of men who were used to getting what they wanted, their smiles bright and their eyes sharp.
One of them, a tall guy with dark hair, made his way over to us. His hair was slicked back in a way that looked effortlessly stylish, and his piercing blue eyes twinkled as he leaned in close to me. The scent of his cologne—something woodsy and expensive—mingled with the alcohol on his breath.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.
I glanced up at him, feeling a heady mix of boldness and curiosity. “No need,” I replied with a playful smile. “I’m buying tonight. What do you want?”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Surprise me,” he said, his smile widening.
Beside him, his friends were equally striking. There was a sandy-haired guy with an athletic build and a catching grin, his green eyes dancing as he chatted animatedly with Laura. He wore a crisp white shirt that clung to his muscular frame, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. Another, slightly shorter but with a lean, toned physique, had a mop of curly brown hair and dark, brooding eyes. He leaned against the bar with a casual elegance, watching the scene unfold with a knowing smirk.
I ordered more drinks, the alcohol making me feel light and free. We danced, the music pulsing through us, our bodies moving in sync with the beat. I felt hot, alive, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was truly living.
Laura danced beside me.
I smiled, thinking of Auntie cheering me on. “I wrote the fucking book, Laura. And now, I’m celebrating.”
We danced and drank, the world spinning around us in a blur of lights and music. The bass thrummed through my veins, and the alcohol made everything seem more vivid, more alive. I felt a guy’s hands on my waist. He whispered something, but I was too far gone to make sense of it. All I knew was that I was happy, and for tonight, that was enough.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the music, loud and unmistakable. “Where is my fiancée?!”
I spun around, my vision fuzzy from the drinks. Standing there, looking frantic and completely out of place in his suit, was Jae. His presence was a shock to the system, a jarring contrast to the neon lights and thumping beats of the club. My heart skipped a beat, and I blinked, trying to focus on the man who had suddenly turned my world upside down.
“Jae?” I slurred, swaying slightly, my head spinning as I tried to reconcile his appearance with the havoc around me.
He marched over, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. His clothes were slightly disheveled, his hair mussed as if he’d run his hands through it a dozen times in frustration. The worry etched into his features was bleak, making his normally composed demeanor crumble.
The guy dancing with me laughed, clearly amused by the sudden interruption. “Whoa, dude. Calm down. Who are you?”
Jae’s eyes blazed with a fierce protectiveness I hadn’t seen before. “Her fiancé. Get your fucking hands off her.”