Page 11 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

He looked at me for a moment. “You okay?”

“Of course.” I took a long drink. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m not crying. I’m emotional. There’s a difference. It’s a beautiful moment.”

“Cleo.” The way he said my name felt intimate.

The last thing I needed in my complicated emotional state was intimate and Cash Bancroft in the same thought.

“I’m fine,” I said briskly. “I just need a minute.”

I turned before he could say anything else and slipped back through the open patio doors into the house. Down the hall, past the kitchen, and into the powder room near the front entry. I got inside, turned the lock, and pressed my back against the door.

What is wrong with me?

I turned on the cold tap and held my wrists under it the way my grandmother had taught me, which she’d sworn brought you back to yourself faster than anything. I wasn’t sure it worked, but the physical sensation helped. Something to focus on that wasn’t the noise in my head.

Because the noise in my head was getting very loud.

If Melody is starting her own family, she doesn’t need me the same way anymore. She has Austin. She’ll have the baby. She’s moving on to the next chapter and I’m still standing here.

Alone.

She’s moving on. I’m stuck. Everything is about to change.

I closed my eyes and did some deep breathing. In for four. Out for four. Cleo Quinn did not fall apart. She was the one who put other people back together.

I dabbed at the mascara that threatened to prove it really wasn’t waterproof and fanned my face.

All good.

Cleo Quinn was back in business. I unlocked the door and walked directly into a wall. A warm, solid, six-foot-something wall that smelled like expensive cologne.

“Cash.” I stepped back, scowling up at him. “Do you have a tracking device on me, or do you just make a habit of lurking outside bathrooms?”

He shook his head. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were crying.”

“I told you, I was emotional. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Emotional is appropriate and healthy. Crying implies distress, which I am not in.” I moved to step around him. “I’m going back to the party.”

He moved with me, not blocking me exactly, just… there. Immovable the way he always was. “Why were you really crying?”

“I just told you I wasn’t crying. If you have hearing problems, there’s a solution for that.”

“Cleo.”

“Stop saying my name like that.”

“Like what?”