Chapter 25
AUSTIN
Standing on Melody’s doorstep with Cleo glaring at me like she wanted to commit murder was possibly not my finest moment.
I was pretty sure she had threatened me.
The size of the hole required to hide my body was a pretty clear indication she was thinking about burying me.
The hostile energy radiating from the purple-haired woman beside Melody was intense.
Melody looked tired. Beautiful, always beautiful, but tired. Her eyes were slightly red, like she’d been crying. Her hair was in a messy bun. She wore oversized sweats and no makeup, and she looked more real than I’d ever seen her.
And I had done this to her.
“We don’t have an agreement anymore.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “You made sure of that.”
“I know.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. “But if I’m going to break your rules, better to do it now, right? When there’s nothing left to lose?”
Cleo made a disgusted sound. “Oh, that’s charming. Really.”
I ignored her, keeping my focus on Melody. “I was an ass last night. A complete and total ass. It’s probably in my DNA at this point—being a disappointment runs in the Bancroft blood.” I was rambling now, grasping at straws. “But I’m trying to be better. I am. I just—fuck, I’m not good at this.”
“At what?” Melody asked quietly.
“Apologizing. Genuinely apologizing.” When was the last time I had done this? When was the last time I’d genuinely tried to make something right instead of just throwing money at the problem or cutting my losses? “I can’t remember the last time I actually said sorry and meant it.”
The admission made me feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like I was standing naked in front of them.
This was a terrible idea. I should leave. Should cut my losses before I made this worse.
“Oh my god,” Cleo’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Is this you?”
She’d pulled out her phone and was now showing me the screen, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
It was that Instagram account. @AustinBancroftWorstMoments. And she was scrolling through what appeared to be my greatest hits of awful paparazzi photos.
“Oh, this one’s my favorite,” Cleo said, zooming in on a particularly unflattering shot of me with my mouth hanging open. “You look like you’re catching flies.”
Despite everything, I had to hand it to her. She was a good friend. A loyal friend. The kind who would create an entire Instagram account dedicated to making her best friend’s ex look like an idiot.
A bit of a savage too.
I was pretty sure she was behind the account. I didn’t know before, but seeing the venom she was spewing at me, I suspected she had come up with a way to get me that wasn’t illegal.
Smart.
I looked at the image she was showing me. My hand reached out and I snatched her phone, studying the photo more closely. “That’s not even me.”
“Yes it is,” Cleo said matter-of-factly.
“No, I’ve never worn that jacket. And that’s not my car.”
“Details.” She snatched her phone back. “It looks like you. Close enough.”
“Did you make this account?” I asked.
Her smile was all teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Melody sighed. “Cleo.”
“What? I’m just scrolling through my phone. Appreciating art. The art of terrible photography.”
I looked at the account again and all the effort that had gone into collecting my worst moments. “You really don’t like me.”
“I really don’t,” Cleo agreed cheerfully. “You hurt my best friend. So yeah, I’m going to make an Instagram account about how you look like a confused seal in most candid photos. It wasn’t hard to find your best moments.”
“Cleo, did you really do this?” Melody asked.
The purple-haired woman shrugged.
“Cleo,” Melody sighed.
“He’s an asshole. He’s lucky that’s all I did.”
“Cleo, knock it off,” Melody said, but there was the ghost of a smile on her face.
“Fine, fine.” Cleo pocketed her phone. “But I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” I said.
“You already did.” Cleo’s expression turned serious. “So forgive me if I don’t trust you to be within ten feet of her.”
Melody put a hand on Cleo’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“You’re not getting rid of me.”
Melody looked at me with resignation. “We’ll just take a walk. Down the street. Very public.”
“Melody,” Cleo warned.
“I’ll be fine. I promise.” She looked at me. “Five minutes. That’s all.”
“I’ll take it.”
Cleo looked between us, clearly torn between her protective instincts and respecting Melody’s decision.
Finally, she pointed at me, her expression fierce.
“If she comes back upset, I’m posting every bad photo I have of you.
And trust me, I have more. So many more.
I’m kind of a computer geek. I will expose every dirty little secret you have.
And I’ll spread a rumor you have a small penis. You do give off small dick energy.”
“Noted,” I said in a dry tone. “But if you dig deep enough, I’m guessing you’ll find pictures that disprove your theory.”
“Let’s go,” Melody said. “Cleo, please behave yourself.”
Melody put on a pair of ballet flats and stepped outside.
Cleo watched us from the doorway like a guard dog.
The afternoon was warm, the street quiet. We walked side by side, not touching. The space between us felt like a canyon.
“So,” Melody said after a block of silence. “You came here to apologize.”
“Yeah.”
“And to explain.”
“If you’ll let me.”
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Explain. Not that I think it’s going to matter. Like they say, a picture says a thousand words.”
I took a breath. “Last night—after you left—I was angry. At myself, mostly. For pushing you. For breaking your rules. For wanting something you made clear you weren’t ready to give.”
“So you went out.”
“So I went out. Called Rodney, went to a club, had way too many drinks.” The words felt like pulling teeth.
“I’m not used to being turned down, Melody.
That sounds arrogant—it is arrogant—but it’s true.
Women usually—they usually want what I’m offering.
It’s been who and what I am for most of my life.
I know what people want and I give it freely depending on the situation. ”
“Which is?”
“The Bancroft name. The money. The lifestyle. All the surface shit.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“But you didn’t want any of that. You saw through it.
Fuck, Melody, you saw through me. And when you left—when you walked away—I needed a fix.
I needed to feel like I was still in control.
Still the guy who could have anyone. Do anything.
I felt stripped. Naked. Like my skin had been peeled away. ”
“So you danced with a woman. You let her paw you.”
I cringed but nodded. “So I let some woman dance with me,” I confirmed. “And another one. And I drank too much and acted like the idiot everyone expects me to be.”
“And you got photographed.”
“And I got photographed.” I looked at her. “I embarrassed you. I know that. This whole plan was my idea. And I fucked it up. Now you look like the idiot, not me. I just look like the asshole everyone expected me to be.”
She stopped walking, turning to face me. “Do you know what they’re saying about me online?”
“I can imagine.”
“They’re saying I was stupid to think someone like you could actually want someone like me.
That I should’ve known better. That I was never worthy of a man like you.
” Her voice cracked slightly. “That I was too much woman for you. That’s the phrase they keep using.
Too much woman. And they’re not talking about my personality. ”
Rage surged through me. “Who’s saying that? Give me names.”
She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter who. It’s not like they actually use their real names. It’s what people think.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And maybe they’re right. Maybe I was stupid to think this could work. That you could actually—”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Tell me.”
“I thought maybe you were starting to like me. Really like me. Not for the arrangement, not for the cameras, but actually me.” She laughed, but it sounded broken. “How stupid is that?”
“I mean, I hit on you pretty hard last night,” I said slowly. “Remember? It’s the whole reason you ran away.”
“Oh yeah.”
“So, you weren’t wrong, Melody. I do like you. I like you so fucking much it terrifies me.”
She looked up at me, her eyes searching my face. “Then why—”
“Because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to handle real feelings.
Because the last time I let myself care about someone, she was using me.
It’s easier to fuck up and push people away than it is to actually try.
” I took a step closer. “But I’m going to make this right.
If you’ll let me. I’m going to prove to you that I can be better than last night. Better than what everyone expects.”
“Austin, no. There’s no point.”
“I know I don’t deserve another chance.” I looked into those hazel eyes that had been haunting me since the moment we met. “But I’m asking for one anyway.”
She stared at me for several seconds. Then she shook her head slowly. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”
I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. She turned to walk away, heading back toward her townhouse. I couldn’t let her go. Not like this. Not when I hadn’t said what I actually came here to say.
I caught her hand gently, my fingers wrapping around her wrist. Not holding tight. She stopped and slowly turned back to look at me. I made myself meet her eyes, even though it felt like standing in front of a firing squad.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it with every part of me. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I’m sorry I proved every fear you had about me was justified. You took a chance on me when you had every reason not to, and I fucked it up. Like I fuck everything up.”
Her eyes were shining with unshed tears.
“But I want you to know—whether you give me another chance or not—you didn’t make a mistake.” I squeezed her hand gently. “Taking a chance on me wasn’t stupid. That was brave. And you deserve someone who’s brave enough to meet you there.”
“Austin, I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“I wish I had done better by you,” I continued. “I wish I’d been the man you thought I could be. But maybe I can still become that man. With enough time. Enough work.”
I released her hand, stepping back.
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything. For making me want to be better.” I started backing away, giving her space. “I hope you get everything you deserve, Melody. I really do.”
Then I turned and walked away. Every instinct I had screamed at me to stay and fight harder. But for once, I was going to respect someone’s boundaries. Even if it killed me.
I walked to my car and climbed in. After starting the engine, I leaned back and closed my eyes.
Why was I such a fuck-up? Why did I always fuck up anything good that happened to me?
Was I self-sabotaging? Maybe I needed to just pack my shit and leave.
Again. I didn’t need my full trust fund. I could travel light.
But running was quitting and I was tired of being a quitter.