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For the first time since her funeral, I allowed myself tofeeleverything without guilt—the loss of the other half of me, gratitude for being alive, for being here to enjoy this journey for both of us, anger at myself and my family for never prioritizing me.

When we turned eighteen and my life just began, Mia’s life ended. Ever since then, I’ve been one person trying to fill two people’s shoes.

It isn’t fair, chasing after a ghost.

It isn’t fair, being forgotten by the living for a ghost.

It isn’t fair, becoming a ghost myself because I’ve forgotten to live forme.

And now, strolling around the city by myself, experiencing the joy and melancholy in the air, I let myself grieve.

I let myself celebrateme.

Who am I?

I’m Olivia Lin, a woman who’s spent her life coloring within the lines, afraid of disappointing others. I’m scared of small spaces and heights, but when push comes to shove, will jump off a cliff to save someone.

I’m a woman who apparently likes Carolina Reapers even though they burn the roof of my mouth off. And I hate the taste of almond cookies, no matter how many times I try to get used to it. I’m someone whose blood thrums to life in the presence of a maddening, impulsive man.

I’m the person who looks like she has her life in order when it’s taking every ounce of her energy to appear that way.

But it’s okay. That’s life. It’s messy. Chaotic. Beautiful. And I’m learning now.

I’ve learned some rules are meant to be broken because I’ll experience the adrenaline pumping in my veins, the thrill of clandestine kisses, and the icy chill of a storm soaking through my clothes into my skin.

I’ve learned that being true to myself is more important than pleasing others around me.

I’m learning I don’t have the answers. The future is uncertain and I’ll fuck things up, but it’ll be okay.

As I clutch the envelope full of photos I’ve printed from my phone, photos I was supposed to take from my Leica, I’m someone who’s going to bid farewell to my best friend, my sister, and my past tonight.

Burn away our regrets.

Chapter Thirty-Two

It’s late by thetime I make it to Valencia. Thecremà, the final act of Las Fallas, where all the sculptures are burned down in a blaze of glory, is in full swing after my driver picked me up from the jet and dropped me off near the town square.

Adriana, the nuisance of a model, was all smiles and coyness when I met her at our London office. It took some wining, dining, and a few expensive shopping trips to get the petulant woman to sign back onto our campaign.

It took every ounce of control inside me not to lash out at her for pulling me away from the woman who occupied my mind twenty-four seven.

Olivia.

She melted so beautifully in my arms at the masquerade. While my cock leaked inside my pants and I didn’t come, seeing her in the throes of passion, her carefully crafted mask shattered on the floor, was the most unforgettable experience of my life. The perfect way she submitted to me, how she absorbed my madness. I’d been as hard as a rock every night, reliving those precious moments in the dark.

I want to push her limits, test her boundaries, and make her come again and again, until she’s speechless and sated.

I want to hear her soothing voice asking me questions I’ve never asked myself, making me face my past.

I want to listen to the sound of her breathing when I lay in bed at night, just to know she exists and wants to spend time with me—the real me under the playboy, jokester persona.

But she never responded to my text.

When I called Lana to give her an update on Adriana, I asked about Olivia.

“It’s interesting how you ask about her and not your friend, Bree,” Lana hums under her breath, her skepticism loud and clear.

“Bree and I are just friends.”