Page 58 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

We wandered into a leather goods shop where I had absolutely no intention of buying anything and walked out twenty minutes later with a belt for myself and a wallet for Cash that he hadn’t asked for but that I insisted he get. It was Italian leather. He said he always wore Italian leather. I said, “Not Italian leather actually bought in Italy.”

And I won.

There was a shop three doors down that sold the kind of things you didn’t know you needed until you saw them. All beautiful, impractical, and European. Trinkets that were really just clutter, but they were so pretty. I spent a thoroughly enjoyable forty minutes in there while Cash stood near the door with his hands in his pockets looking like a man who had made peace with waiting.

He paid for everything without being asked. Every time I took something to the counter, he materialized beside me and handled it before I could reach for my own card.

“You don’t have to,” I said.

“Shopping spree,” he said simply. “We established this.”

“I meant later. I meant clothes not trinkets.”

“You meant exactly this. Don’t negotiate yourself out of what you agreed to.”

I closed my mouth. He wasn’t wrong.

On the walk back, I let myself simply appreciate the moment. I inhaled the various smells. Listened to the people speaking Italian. I noted every little detail that was nothing like New York.

“Have you given more thought to breaking away from Melody? Building your own thing?”

I watched my sneakers on the cobblestones. “Some.”

“And?”

“And I’ve decided to wait. Until after the baby comes. Until Melody’s in a more stable, consistent place. Once everything settles and she’s got her footing as a mother, then I’ll⁠—”

“Based on my experience with my sisters-in-law,” Cash said, with the tone of someone about to deliver information I hadn’t asked for, “Melody won’t be in what you’d describe as a stable or consistent place for approximately—” He paused and actually counted on his fingers and then looked like he was trying to solve a calculus problem. “Five years.”

I looked at him. He looked back and I could see he was being completely serious.

“Babies are destabilizing,” he said. “Significantly and for longer than anyone tells you going in. Then there’s the second one, potentially. And the child-rearing years, which require a lot of attention and almost zero sleep.”

“Stop,” I said.

He stopped talking.

Five years. I’d be thirty-three and heading into geriatric pregnancy territory. She’d have a family and I would still be waiting to start my life.

“It’s your life,” he said. “I’m just providing data.”

“I know it’s my life,” I said. “That’s a very helpful reminder, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We reached the hotel and crossed the courtyard. I still couldn’t believe the place was a hotel. It was like a palace behind walls where regular people would never dare to enter. He held the door, and we rode the elevator in silence.

“It’s time to put on a show,” he said.

I nodded slowly, suddenly just a little nervous. “Okay.”

“I’ll be in the other room.”

“I know where you’ll be.”

He almost smiled. We separated.

What followed was the most fun I had ever had getting ready for anything in recent memory. Again, I was never the focus. I watched Melody get glammed up but never me. I wasn’t envious or jealous because that wasn’t what I wanted. I never cared to be in front of the camera. I thrived on getting to find the perfect shot during the glam.