Year Five The Perfect Goodbye Plan novel Chapter 63

Shipley snapped out of his daze for a moment after hearing Vianne’s words.

Of course.

Sweet Silvia was still off somewhere, sulking and throwing her usual tantrums—so unlike Vianne, who was gentle and compliant, always quick to soothe.

He slipped his arm easily around Vianne’s waist, his hand idly tracing her curves.

Leaning in, he breathed in her intoxicating perfume, his voice low and languid, “Let her be. Having you here with me now is more than enough.”

Vianne gave a delicate laugh, tilting her face up to kiss him.

They kissed their way from the living room all the way to the bedroom.

Afterwards, Shipley lay beside her, gazing into her eyes before breaking out in another lazy grin.

Lost in the haze of alcohol and pleasure, he couldn’t quite tell where he was or even who he was with. Suddenly, a woman’s name slipped from his lips: “Sweet Silvia, I love you…”

Vianne’s face drained of color, the blush vanishing in an instant.

Her hand gripped Shipley’s back, long nails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

Shipley was supposed to love her—not Silvia.

He was drunk, Vianne told herself. The things he said while drunk didn’t count.

But no matter how she tried to convince herself, an uneasy dread crept over her heart.

In the middle of the night, Shipley staggered out of the shower, sobered up slightly after the cold water.

He slumped onto the sofa, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers as hazy smoke curled through the air, stale and heavy.

Out of nowhere, he remembered what Sweet Silvia had once said: Cut back on the cigarettes, take care of your health if you want to stick around for the long haul.

Under Silvia’s watchful eye, he’d actually managed to quit—mostly, anyway—and he was healthier for it.

But now, she wasn’t here.

Restless, Shipley raked a hand through his hair.

He took a deep drag, and, still riding the last waves of drunken bravado, swapped out his SIM card for a new one, then dialed Silvia’s number from memory.

A smile tugged at Silvia’s lips. “Good morning, Mr. Parsons. I’m just looking over the proposal.”

Kent’s tone was warm as he asked, “What do you think?”

“I love it,” Silvia replied. She’d already read through it several times the night before.

Kent really had thought of everything—it was flawless, nothing out of place.

“Do you have time to try on dresses this afternoon?” he asked.

“Of course,” Silvia answered without hesitation.

She only needed to finalize a few last details for the engagement party; everything else was taken care of.

If she didn’t even try on the dress, it would look like she wasn’t involved at all.

After settling on a time to meet Kent that afternoon, Silvia stood in front of her closet, pondering what to wear.

Kent was about to become her fiancé—she couldn’t just throw on whatever like she used to.