Chapter 28
MELODY
Traffic in Manhattan was a special kind of hell.
I’d lived here long enough to know this. I planned for it. I accepted it as the price of living in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. But sitting in the back of a cab that had moved approximately three feet in ten minutes, I was reconsidering all my life choices.
“We should’ve taken the subway,” Cleo said from beside me, scrolling through her phone.
“You’re the one who said we would have too many bags to carry.”
“I said we might have too many bags. That’s different.” She glanced up at the gridlock ahead of us. “Though at this rate, we could’ve walked and gotten there faster.”
We were going on a shopping spree. Something we did once a month or so.
And carrying a bunch of bags on the subway wasn’t smart.
Been there, done that. Lost a lot. We usually took a cab or rideshare.
And while we didn’t technically have to be anywhere at any specific time, I just felt like we were burning daylight.
I pulled out my phone, looking for something to pass the time. “Want to listen to my podcast episode? It dropped this morning.”
Cleo’s face lit up. “Oh, absolutely. I want to hear you sounding all professional and put together.”
I pulled up the episode on my phone and hit play, holding it between us. The first minute was Stacy introducing me.
“Oh my god, she made you sound so impressive,” Cleo whispered as Stacy listed my credentials and accomplishments.
“Shh, I want to hear this part.”
We listened to my interview. I cringed at some of my responses. Did I really say “um” that many times? Overall, I sounded confident. Knowledgeable. Like someone who knew what they were talking about.
“See?” Cleo nudged me. “You killed it. I told you.”
The cab moved another few feet. I could see the shopping district up ahead, just five blocks away but seemingly unreachable. I didn’t want to listen to the rest of it. I had been there after all.
“Ooh, let’s listen to Austin’s interview,” Cleo said. “I want to hear what dumb shit he said.”
I hesitated. I’d been avoiding his episode, not sure I wanted to hear him talk about anything.
And after Stacy’s attempt to get me to talk about him, I knew there was no way she wasn’t going to ask him the same questions.
I didn’t want to hear what he thought about me or what happened or anything. I didn’t want to hear his voice.
But curiosity won out.
I pulled up his episode and hit play. It started normally enough.
Stacy asked typical Bancroft questions. She made small talk about his family, his lifestyle, and, of course, his reputation.
Austin deflected with charm, giving answers that revealed nothing while sounding open and honest. It was masterful, really.
Then Stacy asked if he was single.
Cleo snorted. “Here we go.”
“I’m single,” Austin’s voice came through the phone. “But I’m not dating. I’ve got some work to do on myself first.”
I found myself leaning closer to the phone.
“Work to do on yourself,” Stacy repeated. “Is this about Melody Stephens?”
There was a pause. I held my breath. “Next question.”
But Stacy pressed. Asked more personal questions. Brought up our relationship, the photos from the club and how he felt about us being over.
I could hear the tension in Austin’s voice as he tried to deflect in an attempt to protect our privacy. But Stacy kept pushing.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Tell us the truth, Austin. Did Melody really have no idea her photos were being edited? Or was that just damage control?”
“Oh, she did not,” Cleo breathed beside me.
There was a beat of silence. I watched Austin’s face. He’d been doing his best to look calm and relaxed, but there was no missing that tension. Then I heard Austin’s voice, harder now, angry.
“Stop. Just stop.”
What followed made my mouth fall open. Austin defending me. Really defending me. Calling Stacy out for questioning my integrity. Saying I was good to my core. Both Cleo and I listened as he told her I put myself out there to help other women, not for fame or money. He said I deserved better.
Then Austin got up and walked out.
The episode ended abruptly. I sat there in stunned silence. We both stared at the screen waiting for something to happen. It just went on to a goofy ad.
“Rewind that,” Cleo said, her voice strange. “I need to hear that again.”
I rewound to where Austin started defending me. We listened again.
“Melody isn’t like you or me, Stacy. She’s good to her core. She built her entire platform on authenticity and helping other women see themselves as beautiful. She puts herself out there—really out there—not for fame or money or attention, but because she genuinely wants to make a difference.”
When it ended the second time, Cleo cleared her throat. “I know I don’t have many good things to say about him, but damn, why was that kind of a turn-on?”
“Cleo!”
“What? I’m being honest. That was hot. Like, righteously angry hot. Protective hot. Walking-out-of-an-interview-to-defend-your-woman hot. Like give me the match so I can burn the world down for you.”
Austin had just made me feel seen. Really seen. Like he understood exactly who I was and what I was trying to do. And he made me feel like he actually cared. No one had ever gone to bat for me like that, aside from maybe Cleo.
More importantly, he had nothing to gain from saying any of it. He was going to piss off his father and his PR people. That kind of tantrum always made waves. How had I not heard about it? Because I had been busy the last couple of days and going out of my way to avoid anything Austin.
“Check the comments,” Cleo said, already scrolling on her phone. “People are going to lose their minds over this.”
I pulled up the episode comments with shaking hands. Some people were brutal. Damn trolls and keyboard warriors.
Simp behavior.
Weak for a Bancroft.
She’s got him whipped.
This is embarrassing.
I felt bad for him. Then again, it was nothing he hadn’t been exposed to before. The guy had been in the public eye before he could take his first steps. He’d be okay.
“It looks bad, but look at the comments that haven’t been mercilessly thumbed up by the trolls,” Cleo said.
This is actually really refreshing to see.
A man openly caring about a woman he’s no longer with?
Okay but the way he defended her??? I’m swooning.
Maybe Austin Bancroft isn’t who we thought he was.
My throat felt tight. My eyes were stinging.
“You okay?” Cleo asked.
I had an overwhelming urge to call him. I wanted to thank him. Throw myself at him and beg him to take me back.
But Cleo would not be okay with that. She was firmly in the camp to move on.
Let it go. Let him go. I wasn’t going to ruin a day of shopping by earning a lecture from Cleo about why it was better if I moved on from the Austin debacle.
He might have softened her opinion of him a little, but it was going to take a lot more than that to change her mind.
Cleo was a fierce protector of me and I loved her for it. But it could be just a little overwhelming at times.
The cab finally started moving at a normal pace.
We’d be at the shopping district in a few minutes.
We finally made it to the boutique, a small place tucked between a coffee shop and a jewelry store.
I’d been following them on Instagram for months, drooling over their pieces.
They specialized in plus-size fashion with an edge.
Bold prints and pieces that made statements.
The owner, a woman named Anna with silver hair and incredible style, greeted us at the door. “Melody! I’m so glad you’re here.” She pulled me into a hug like we were old friends. “I pulled some pieces I think you’ll love.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Are you kidding? Having you shop here is a dream. Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve got.”
Her excitement was a reminder of my status. I wasn’t Taylor Swift, but in my little world, people knew me.
Cleo and I followed her into the store. The racks were organized by color rather than size, which I loved. No separate “plus-size section” hidden in the back. Just beautiful clothes for bodies of all sizes.
Margot had pulled an entire rack of pieces for me.
“Oh my god,” I breathed, running my fingers over the dresses, blouses, and pants. “These are gorgeous.”
“Try them on. All of them. Take your time.” Margot gestured toward the dressing rooms in the back. “I’ll bring you more if you want.”
In the dressing room, alone for a moment, I pulled out my phone.
I shouldn’t text him. I knew I shouldn’t. But my fingers were already typing.
Me: Are you okay?
I hit send before I could overthink it.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Austin: Of course I am, baby girl.
My heart flipped.
Me: Don’t call me that.
It was our thing. The nickname I banned, that he used anyway, that made me blush every time.
Austin: Ground rules aren’t in place anymore, remember? I can say what I want.
Austin: P.S. You really looked beautiful the other day outside the studio. I hope you’re doing well.
Austin: Wish me luck. I have an event tonight and no date.
I stared at that last message. An event. No date.
Was that an invitation? Or just information?
Me: I’m sure you can find someone.
The words felt wrong the second I sent them. Harsh. I waited for a response. Watched the screen. But nothing came. No three dots. No follow-up message. Nothing.
“You okay in there?” Cleo called from outside the dressing room.
“Yeah, just… trying something on.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and the dress I’d forgotten I was wearing.
The deep emerald green with a cinched waist and flowing skirt hit just below my knees.
It was stunning, exactly the kind of piece I would have gushed over in a normal mood.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Austin’s lack of response.
I changed into the next outfit, a burnt sienna jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and wide legs. It fit like it was made for me. I stepped out to show Cleo.
“Oh damn,” she said, looking up from her phone. “That’s the one. You have to get that.”
“You think?”
“I know. You look incredible.” She stood up, circling me. “The color is perfect with your skin tone. And the cut is surprisingly flattering.”
I turned to look at myself in the three-way mirror outside the dressing room. She was right. The jumpsuit was perfect.
But all I could think about was Austin at some event tonight. Some gala or party or whatever Bancrofts did. Would he find someone to go with him? Would there be more photos of him with another woman?
“Earth to Melody,” Cleo waved her hand in front of my face. “Where did you go?”
“Sorry. Just thinking.”
“About Austin.”
It wasn’t a question. She knew me too well.
“I’m getting the green dress,” I said, quickly changing the subject. “I’m going to try on that red blouse. It’ll be good for fall.”
I disappeared back into the changing room and immediately grabbed my phone. No reply.
I sighed and dropped the phone. I was not going to text him again.
The ball was in his court.