Page 27 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

Cash’s words from last night echoed in my head. I loved Melody like a sister, but maybe our relationship was a little one-sided. I knew she loved me and would walk through fire for me, but she had Austin now. I didn’t need to run her life. I had to start thinking about me. My life. My goals.

I shook it off and kept shooting. “Okay, now both of you. Sylvie, just do what Melody’s doing. Look peaceful.”

Sylvie gamely attempted to look peaceful while Melody struck pose after pose with the ease of someone who’d done this thousands of times.

“Should I be doing something with my hands?” Sylvie asked.

“Just be natural.”

“I don’t know what natural looks like in this context.”

I lowered my phone and grinned at her. “You’re overthinking it. Just exist beautifully. You’re literally glowing. New-mom glow is a real thing, and you have it in spades.”

Sylvie blushed but relaxed. I managed to get some genuinely lovely shots of the two women together.

“Okay, robes,” I announced. “We need the full spa aesthetic.” I pointed at Sylvie, who was about to stand. “Make sure your feet are covered.”

She looked down at her feet, confused. “Why?”

“No free foot pics. It’s a whole thing. People have weird fetishes, and the internet is a lawless wasteland. You do not want your tootsies being passed around on WikiFeet.”

Sylvie’s eyes went wide. “That’s so weird.”

“Welcome to the influencer economy,” Melody said, already adjusting her robe to cover her feet.

Sylvie looked genuinely horrified, which I found both amusing and endearing. She was so normal. So removed from this bizarre digital landscape that Melody and I navigated daily. She was a small-town girl who had lived a relatively sheltered life. I kind of envied her for that.

We spent the next hour enjoying more treatments. Every treatment was documented, of course. Melody’s followers would eat this up. We had pulled back from anything too personal, but a spa day wasn’t crossing any boundaries. It was basic bitch stuff that thousands of influencers posted. It was all about adding fresh pictures and letting her followers know she was still around.

Finally, we were led to the mineral pools. A series of gorgeous stone-lined pools with varying temperatures, all overlooking the ocean. The hottest one released steam into the cool air, creating a dreamy, ethereal effect. It looked so inviting.

We sank into the warmest pool, and I literally groaned with pleasure. “This is heaven,” I declared. “I’m never leaving. You can just ship my mail here.”

Melody laughed, but she was already looking blissful, her head resting against the smooth stone edge. “Can we talk about how insane it is that I’m growing a human right now?”

“So insane,” Sylvie agreed. “Just wait until you can feel them move. That’s when it really hits you.”

And just like that, they were off, talking about pregnancy symptoms. The good, bad, and the maybe too much information. Sylvie shared stories about Tiana’s first weeks, the sleepless nights, the overwhelming love that hit you like a freight train.

I tried to participate. I really did. But I felt so out of my depth that I might as well have been speaking a foreign language. I didn’t know anything about pregnancy. I’d never thought seriously about nursery themes. The difference between a bassinet and a crib was a complete mystery to me.

So I smiled and nodded and made appropriate noises while my mind wandered. And guess where it went? Cash.

I had been tipsy but not blind or dense. It felt like we had crossed into some strange new territory the night before. If it had been any other guy, I think there would have been a kiss. But it was Cash Bancroft. That harsh reality kept me grounded.

Was he thinking about me? Probably not. He was probably on the golf course right then, talking about business and profit margins and whatever else rich men discussed while hitting their little balls.

“Cleo?”

I blinked and realized Melody had been talking to me. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you think sage green or soft yellow would be better for the nursery.”

“Oh. Um. Either would be beautiful?”

Melody studied me, and I could see the concern in her eyes. She knew I wasn’t really there, mentally speaking. But she didn’t push it. We knew each other well. I didn’t want her worrying about me, so I put on a bright smile and pretended I was having the time of my life talking about stretch-mark prevention.

“Yellow it is,” she decided. “Gender neutral and cheerful.”