Nervous sweat collected under Antonia’s arms. Jesus. She would need to take a shower before taking the cake next door. She wanted to look her best when she marched over there with a finished cake and a smug smile. When she scooped the last of the icing on top, Antonia was horrified to find the icing she had already applied was now melting. Chocolate began to pool on the platter she’d placed the cake on. She used her spoon to gather the run-off icing and drizzle it over the bald patches, but her attempts were in vain. “Oh my god, this is a mess...”

Straightening up, she stepped back from the cake and stared down at it. This will not defeat me. If this was truly her Eat, Pray, Love moment, she would pray to her mother’s Black Jesus to stop the icing from running. “Black Jesus, this cake is made with love and I—” No, that wasn’t entirely true. It was really spite cake. “Fuck it, I did my best,” she resigned. “Amen.”

Antonia left it where it sat and opened the kitchen window. Perhaps the wind could cool it down while she got herself ready. Maybe I should have done that earlier? She shook her head and ran to the bathroom. No time, just move forward. As she quickly stripped down and jumped into the power-generated shower, she was excited by the prospect of doing the things that frightened her. She was finally going to take control of the plot, instead of being a bystander to the men in her life.

After her quick shower, she ran to her bedroom to find an outfit. Searching through the closet and in the drawers, she came up with a yellow sundress. Beyoncé Lemonade Yellow. She’d bought it on a shopping trip with Megan, who told Antonia that she absolutely needed to have it. When she tried it on the first time, Megan gasped in that dramatic fashion that Eddie loved so much. “If you don’t buy it, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Everything was do or die with that woman. As Antonia held the dress at arm’s length, she wondered if Megan was right. Was this do or die time?

She slipped it over her head and let the soft fabric flutter down to her thighs. Antonia assessed herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. The dandelion-yellow dress settled comfortably a couple inches above her knees, hugging her hips and bust. She tucked her cleavage inside the bodice, trying her best to contain some of the spillage. Antonia didn’t remember being so busty in the dress when she purchased it. She did look hot though.

Running her fingers through her mane, she considered pulling it up in a high bun. “No, that’s what Derek liked,” she reminded herself. Derek took after his mother; the less intrusive a woman’s hair was, the more she could blend in. Antonia couldn’t believe that she had almost thought to straighten her hair for the wedding when Octavia would have gladly styled her curls to suit her. Antonia shook her hair down and took a deep breath.