Page 28 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

After we’d turned into prunes, we rinsed off in hot showers that felt almost as good as the pools themselves. I washed away the mineral smell and emerged feeling like a completely new person. My skin felt amazing. I had to keep myself from rubbing my body. It was baby-butt smooth.

We reconvened for lunch in the spa’s dining room. It was an airy space with white linens and fresh flowers on every table. Our server appeared almost immediately, and he was exactly the kind of person you’d expect to work at a high-end spa.

“Hello, gorgeous ladies!” He was probably in his mid-twenties, with perfectly styled hair, and an enthusiasm that was contagious. “Welcome, welcome! I’m Trevor, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I start you with some sparkling water? Infused with cucumber and mint? Or perhaps some fresh juice?”

“Sparkling water sounds perfect,” Melody said.

“Wonderful choice!” Trevor beamed at her. “And for you, darling?” He turned to Sylvie.

“The same, please.”

“Excellent! And for our resident photographer?”

I gave him a blank look.

“I saw you working earlier. Absolutely adore those shots. Can’t wait to see them on the Gram. What can I get you?”

I couldn’t help but smile at his energy. “Do you have Diet Coke?”

“Perfection! Be right back, my loves.”

He disappeared, and Sylvie leaned forward. “Do you think he’s always like that?”

“Some people are just like that,” I said. “High energy, lots of pet names. I think it’s sweet.”

“It’s a lot,” she whispered. “Although I suppose it’s better than him being a grump.”

Trevor returned with our drinks and launched into an elaborate description of the menu. By the time we ordered, we were all a bit overwhelmed by his enthusiasm. I loved the royal treatment, but damn.

“That’s how Kent treats me at home,” Sylvie said once Trevor had bounded away. “Like I’m the most important person in the universe. My parents adore him for it. They were so worried when I met him but he won them over immediately.”

“How?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“He listened. He cared. He didn’t try to change anything about me or my life. He just fit himself into our world that is so far removed from his billionaire lifestyle. And now we have this perfect little home on my family’s property. It’s cozy and warm.” She smiled and got a bit of a forlorn expression. “I’m already aching to get back. I miss my living room. I miss the nursing chair in Tiana’s bedroom. I miss the way the mountains look in the morning.”

There was such pure love in her voice that I felt a pang of longing. That was what I wanted. That certainty. That sense of home.

Melody launched into her own nursery plans, her eyes lighting up as she described her vision. “I’m thinking yellow walls with white furniture. And I want one of those reading nooks in the corner with a really comfortable chair. I’m going to read to the baby every night. I want a bookshelf in the corner filled with all the classics.”

Sylvie joined in, sharing tips about blackout curtains and white noise machines.

I was trying so hard to participate again. I so wanted to be the supportive best friend I was supposed to be. But I felt like I was drowning. I really needed to give myself a crash course on nurseries. It would make for some excellent content.

“What do you think, Cleo?” Melody asked. “Should we go with a woodland theme or keep it more minimal?”

“I think…” I searched for something useful to contribute. “I think whatever makes you happy is the right choice. And we can definitely do a photoshoot when it’s done. The content will be amazing.”

It was a deflection, and we both knew it. But Melody let it slide.

Trevor brought our food, beautiful salads with edible flowers and perfectly grilled chicken. I ate and smiled and tried to ignore the growing feeling that I was being left behind.

After lunch, we hit some local shops. There were galleries selling ocean-themed art for thousands of dollars and a bookstore that smelled like expensive candles. And then we found the baby boutiques. Multiple baby boutiques, because apparently wealthy people needed options when buying tiny expensive clothes.

Melody was in heaven, touching every fabric and exclaiming over every miniature outfit. Sylvie provided practical advice about what was actually useful versus what just looked cute.

I wandered through the store, running my fingers over impossibly small onesies and trying to imagine a tiny human wearing them. That was when I saw it. A yellow onesie with a little duck embroidered on the chest. It was adorable. I had seen Melody admiring it earlier but she had moved on because she’d said she didn’t want to buy too much too soon.

I glanced around to make sure she wasn’t watching, then grabbed it, and took it to the register.