Page 103 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“How are you feeling about Saturday?” Melody asked quietly.

I knew what she meant. “I’ll be fine.”

“Cleo, you can talk to me.”

“I’m good. I’ll smile. I’ll do my speech. I’ll dance with the groomsmen. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to see Cash.”

There it was. The name I’d been avoiding for three weeks. The name that still made my chest tight and my eyes burn and my heart feel like the tape I used to put it back together was going to tear off and leave it shattered all over again.

“I know,” I said.

“And?”

“And we’ll be on our best behavior. Professional. Cordial.” I stopped. “Like two people who can be in the same room without it being weird.”

Melody gave me a look. “It’s going to be weird.”

“Probably.”

“Are you okay with that?”

I picked at the edge of a throw pillow. “I have to be, don’t I? This is your wedding. Your day. The last thing I want is for my drama with Cash to take away from that.”

“It wouldn’t take anything away.”

“Mel, I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Really. Maybe seeing him will give me the closure I need. Maybe it’ll be good.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Can I say something without you getting mad at me?”

“Have I ever gotten mad at you?”

“There’s a first time for everything.” She shifted her pillows again. “I don’t think it’s over. With you and Cash.”

My stomach dropped.

“Hear me out.” She held up a hand. “Cash is the way he is for a reason. He’s spent his whole life living up to impossible expectations. Being the perfect son, the perfect Bancroft, the guy who fixes everything. He’s never let his walls down. Not really.”

“He let them down with me,” I said quietly. “In Rome. And then he put them right back up.”

“Because he got scared.”

“Or because it didn’t mean anything to him.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I wanted to. God, I wanted to believe that Rome had been a fun weekend fling that meant nothing and Cash had walked away because he genuinely didn’t care. It would make this so much easier.

But I couldn’t.

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t believe that.”

“Then maybe there’s still hope.”

I looked at her. “Melody, I love you. So much. But please don’t give me false hope. It’s been three weeks and he hasn’t called. Hasn’t texted. Nothing. He’s made it very clear that whatever we had in Rome is over. I’ve accepted it and I’m moving on. It was never going to be a thing. I’m not you. I don’t get the happy ending that you got. And that’s okay. He’s a busy man. I didn’t ask him to call me or vice versa. I have no expectations.”

“Has it occurred to you he might be figuring his shit out?”