Page 13 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

She was acting fine, but I kept catching the occasional moments. The way her expression went quiet when she thought no one was paying attention. I noticed she positioned herself slightly outside the circle instead of inside it. On the deck, she stayed on the outer fringes. She was hurting. That much I was sure of.

Why did I care? I barely knew the woman. We had a mutually antagonistic dynamic built on six months of well-crafted insults and strategic avoidance. Her emotional state was not my area of responsibility.

That was Melody’s job. Melody was her best friend. If something was wrong with Cleo, Melody would notice and handle it. That was how this was supposed to work.

Except Melody was in a haze of pregnancy hormones and wedding excitement. I wasn’t entirely sure she had noticed anything beyond her own beautiful news.

Every time I looked at Cleo too long, she caught me and shot me a glare.

“I cannot wait to go dress shopping,” Melody said. She was looking at Cleo. “I can’t do it without you. You’re the only person I trust to tell me if something makes me look silly.”

“Everything makes you look incredible and you know it,” Cleo said with a genuine smile. Whatever she was feeling underneath, it didn’t show.

“I need honest, not flattering. That’s why I need you.”

“You need me because I’ll tell you when a dress makes your ass look like a throw pillow and I won’t feel bad about it.”

Melody laughed. “Exactly. And you’ll need your maid of honor dress. We can do it all at once.”

“You know, usually the dress takes a good year to get done,” Cleo said.

“Well, I don’t want to wear a tent down the aisle and I am absolutely going to be married before this baby is born,” Melody said.

Cleo flashed another smile. “I might know someone who can help us out on such short notice.”

“I knew you would.”

The conversation drifted to tomorrow’s plans. The women would go to the spa. The men would head out to the golf club. It was the kind of easy division that happened naturally in a group like this. It worked for me. I was glad there wouldn’t be cake tasting or anything to do with wedding planning.

No thank you.

A morning of golf and business talk with my brothers sounded considerably more comfortable than whatever this evening had turned into.

Around midnight, the cool of the ocean breeze was enough to signal the end of the night. Four of us had someone to snuggle up with. Four of us were eager to get to bed.

At least one of us was not looking forward to bed.

I wasn’t tired.

I glanced Cleo’s way. She didn’t look super thrilled about bedtime either.

“I’ll take care of the fire,” I said to no one in particular.

Everyone filtered inside. I turned off the fire pit and stayed to make sure it was completely out. The night was quiet around me, other than the sound of the waves rolling in and the occasional chirp of some nocturnal bug.

I went inside last. The house was silent. The ground floor was dark. I was heading toward the stairs when I found Cleo standing at the bottom of them, holding what looked to be a toiletry bag. I could not imagine she stuffed everything she needed for a weekend in the thing.

She looked up when she heard me. “My other bags are in my car. I forgot to bring them in earlier.”

“I’ll get them.”

“I don’t need you to be my porter.”

“Just give me your keys.”

She looked at me for a moment with an expression that suggested she was weighing whether the argument was worth the effort. She handed me her keys.

I found her car in the driveway. It was a sensible sedan with a back seat that had clearly transported the personal belongings of a woman who was prepared for any situation. Two bags. One large, one medium. A canvas tote full of what looked like camera equipment. I carried them all in because I wasn’t sure what she might need.