Page 117 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“Where’s Melody?” he asked reaching out for her.

“In her bed.”

That seemed to confuse him.

“Separate beds. The night before the wedding, remember?”

He popped out his bottom lip like a toddler. I rolled my eyes, pulled the blanket over him, and walked out.

“Think he’ll be okay?” Hayes asked.

“He’s survived worse,” I said. “He’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Finn muttered.

We left Austin to sleep it off and headed back downstairs. Most people had gone to bed or left to go to their houses. Just a few stragglers on the patio. I stopped when I caught a flash of purple.

Cleo was coming up the stairs. She was barefoot, carrying her shoes in one hand, wine glass in the other. Her cheeks were flushed. Her dress had slipped off one shoulder. Her hair was slightly messed. She looked stunning.

“Cash,” she said when she saw me. Surprised. A little breathless.

“Cleo.”

She looked at my brothers who suddenly vanished.

“We just put Austin to bed,” I blurted out.

She winced. “I hope he’s not too hungover. I got the bride to bed. You were in charge of the groom.”

“I know. He’ll be fine. Plenty of time to sleep it off.”

We stood there on the stairs. Her a few steps below me, looking up. Me frozen in place, trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts.

“You look beautiful,” I said.

Her cheeks got pinker. “You look pretty good yourself, Lurch.”

I suddenly realized I liked her calling me Lurch. What did that say about me? Why did I like her insulting me?

Because it wasn’t an insult. Just like Cyclone Cleo wasn’t a real insult. It was a term of endearment.

“Good night with the girls?” I asked.

“The best. We solved all the world’s problems and planned Melody’s entire future.” She climbed up a step. “How about you? Get Austin sufficiently drunk and panicked?”

“He’s passed out in his room talking about how perfect his life is.”

“Sounds about right.” She was one step below me now. “Think he’ll be okay tomorrow?”

“Austin will be fine,” I said. “He’s too excited to let a hangover stop him.”

“Good.” She took another step up. We were at eye level now. Well, I still towered over her petite frame but close enough. “He really loves her. Your brother.”

“He does.”

“It’s nice. Seeing that kind of love.” Her voice got quieter. “Makes you believe it’s possible, you know?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”