Chapter 50
MELODY
Imade it home before the tears started. Barely.
I managed to hold it together in the cab. It was nothing short of a miracle. And I still managed to keep the tears at bay as I climbed the stairs to my townhouse, fumbling with my keys and letting myself inside.
But the moment the door closed behind me, I broke. I sank down right there in the entryway, my back against the door, and let myself cry. Big, ugly sobs that shook my whole body. The kind of crying I hadn’t done since the Femme Curve scandal.
How had everything gone so wrong so fast?
I sat there for what felt like hours, though it was probably only minutes, letting the tears come until there was nothing left. My throat hurt. My eyes burned. My heart felt like it had been put through a shredder.
I’d left while he was still asleep. Cowardly, maybe, but I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t handle another conversation where we circled around the fundamental truth that we wanted different things. Completely different things.
Eventually, I forced myself up off the floor. My legs felt shaky, like I had just run a marathon. I left my bag by the door and made my way upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.
My bedroom looked exactly as I’d left it yesterday—back when I’d been excited and hopeful, packing an overnight bag like some lovesick teenager. The bed was still unmade from where Cleo had sprawled across it.
I’d been so happy. So sure that surprising him with dinner would be romantic and perfect and everything we needed after being apart for two days. Instead, I had gotten the truth. And the truth sucked.
I grabbed clean clothes from my dresser, soft leggings and an oversized hoodie, and headed into the bathroom.
I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it and peeled off yesterday’s clothes.
The dress that was supposed to be sexy but casual.
The lingerie I’d bought specifically for last night that never got seen.
I stepped under the spray and let the water pour over me, washing away the remnants of my makeup and the dried tears on my cheeks. For a moment, I just stood there, letting the heat soak into my skin. Then the tears started again.
They mixed with the shower water. I pressed my palms against the tile wall and let myself cry. Really cry. All the disappointment and heartbreak and frustration I’d been holding back came pouring out. Because I loved him. I was in love with Austin Bancroft.
And it didn’t matter.
Love wasn’t enough when you wanted fundamentally different futures. I wanted a husband. A family. Kids running around my house, filling it with noise and chaos and joy. I wanted Sunday dinners like my mom used to make, with a full table and sticky fingers and laughter.
Austin wanted freedom. No ties, no commitments, no obligations. He’d said it himself. He wanted the bachelor life until he was in the ground. He wanted to wake up and decide to fly to Tahiti for a week. Having a family would throw a wrench into those plans.
He offered to try. He said he could change his mind about kids.
But that wasn’t fair to him or to any potential children.
You didn’t have kids because your girlfriend wanted them.
You had them because you wanted them, too.
Because you were ready and willing to give your whole heart to another human being.
I couldn’t ask him to do that. Couldn’t ask him to fundamentally reshape his entire life plan for me.
The water started to run cold, shocking me back to the moment.
I finished up and got out, then got dressed and headed back downstairs to make the world’s strongest coffee.
I had barely slept the night before. My mind kept replaying our conversation.
I went back and forth between accepting that it was over to considering changing what I wanted.
Did I really need kids? Could I be okay with just living footloose and fancy free like him?
No. I couldn’t. I wanted more. I needed more to feel fulfilled. Even if having children didn’t work out, I would still want roots. A home. A loving husband.
So, it was over. I knew it. I loved Austin, but I wasn’t going to sit around and hope he changed his mind.
I sipped my coffee and let the caffeine do its thing.
And then it was time to work. I had to focus my mind elsewhere.
Anything to stop myself from thinking about him and what we could or couldn’t have.
I tried to work. Really tried. Set up my lighting, picked out some pieces from recent PR packages and attempted to get into my usual rhythm. But everything felt flat. Empty. Like I was going through the motions of being myself rather than actually being myself.
After an hour of taking photos I knew I would just delete later, I gave up. My phone sat on the counter, taunting me. Austin had texted twice this morning. I still felt terrible about leaving without a goodbye, but if I woke him up there would have been another awkward conversation.
Austin: Good morning. How are you?
Austin: I know you need space. But I’m here when you’re ready to talk.
I hadn’t responded. Didn’t know what to say.
I’m heartbroken? I’m confused? I’m terrified we want different futures and there’s no way to bridge that gap?
A knock on my door made me jump. Austin?
I self-consciously ran a hand over my hair that was in a bun. I looked a mess. I knew it, but I couldn’t just hide. When I opened the door, it was Cleo.
Of course. Why would it be Austin? He was giving me space.
“Hey, babe,” she said, breezing in with her usual energy. She took one look at my face and stopped. “Oh no. What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You are a terrible liar.” She set down her massive tote bag and crossed her arms. “Spill.”
“Can we just work? We need to shoot those ads.”
“Mel. Spill. Now.”
So I did. I told her about the dinner. About the questions. About Austin’s answers. About how everything had fallen apart in the span of ten minutes. Cleo listened without interrupting, which was unusual for her. When I finished, she was quiet for several long seconds.
“Don’t tell me you have more billionaire problems,” she finally said.
Despite everything, I almost smiled. “I have more billionaire problems.”
“Okay. Let’s break this down.” She pulled me over to my couch and sat us both down. “You want marriage and kids. He’s never thought about either. Is that accurate?”
“Yes.”
“And this is a dealbreaker for you?”
I chewed on my lower lip. “I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.”
“Super clear.”
“Cleo, I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Always. It’s not negotiable. I want to create a home. A family. A life built around love and support and traditions.”
Cleo’s brow furrowed. “And Austin doesn’t want that?”
“He says he’s never wanted it. That kids gross him out. He says he’s always seen himself living the bachelor life.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“And it’s not just the kids thing.” The words were tumbling out now, all the thoughts I’d been trying to suppress.
“He has issues with his family. Like, serious issues. His relationship with his father is complicated and painful. His brothers don’t take him seriously.
There’s so much baggage there. When I say he’s the black sheep, I’m not just saying it. ”
“Everyone has family baggage.”
“I know. But I’ve always imagined being part of a close, supportive, loving family.
Having family dinners and holiday traditions and people who show up for each other.
And Austin’s family is so fractured and dysfunctional.
It would be like inviting drama into my life.
Not just basic drama. Big drama. Like even if we had a family, our children would never be on the inside.
They would be ostracized. I would be ostracized. ”
“So you’re saying Austin comes with too much baggage?”
“No. Yes.” I struggled to articulate it. “I’m saying the risks feel really high. He’s never thought about kids before. How can I trust that he’ll eventually get there with me? What if I stay with him, fall even more in love with him, and five years from now he still doesn’t want what I want?”
“Then you would have wasted five years?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m so confused.”
Cleo was quiet again. “I think you’re overthinking this.”
“How am I overthinking this? We want fundamentally different things.”
“You literally just started dating, like, two weeks ago?”
“On the yacht. Yes.”
“So you’ve been officially together for less than two weeks, and you’re already expecting him to have his entire life planned out and aligned with yours?” Cleo shrugged. “Sounds like overthinking.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.” Cleo’s voice was her usual blunt tone. “I love you. You’re my best friend. But you have this tendency to want everything figured out right now. To have a plan for every possible future scenario. And life doesn’t work that way. Make a plan and God laughs.”
“So I should just ignore this huge incompatibility?”
“I’m saying maybe it’s not as huge as you think. Maybe give it some time. See how things develop. You’re both young. You have time.”
“I thought you hated him?” I asked, eyeing her skeptically.
“I don’t hate him. I don’t particularly like him, either, but I also don’t think one conversation about kids—one conversation where he was probably caught off guard and being brutally honest—is enough reason to throw away this thing right when it’s only beginning.”
“Even if what we have won’t lead where I want it to go?”
“You don’t know that. You’re acting like you just boarded the Titanic.
” She grabbed my hand. “Look, I get it. Planning is your thing. Knowing where you’re headed is your thing.
But relationships don’t work like that. They’re messy and unpredictable and sometimes people change their minds about things they thought they were certain about. ”
“But what if he doesn’t change his mind?”
“Then you deal with that when it happens. But don’t end up missing something good because you’re scared of what might happen years from now.”
Her words made sense. Logically, I knew she was right. But in my gut, something was telling me that the longer I stayed with Austin, the more it was going to hurt when I had to face the inevitable truth. We were just too different to really work.
“I hear what you’re saying,” I said quietly. “And I appreciate it. But I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of falling so in love with him that I can’t walk away when I need to. I don’t want to waste years on something that’s doomed from the start. I don’t want to lose myself trying to make this work.”
Cleo shook her head. “You won’t lose yourself. That’s not who you are.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve watched you build an entire career on being authentically yourself,” she said.
“You’re worried he’s going to change your mind about the future you decided for yourself before you were even eighteen.
You’re worried you’re going to like hopping on private jets and traveling the world on a moment’s notice.
If Austin Bancroft tries to make you into something you’re not, I’ll personally destroy him. ”
That got a small laugh out of me.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Maybe I’m overthinking this.”
“You are definitely overthinking this.”
“You’re very wise today.”
“I’m very wise every day, you just don’t always pay attention.”
I smiled. “Sorry.”
“Get out of your own way, girl. Just be happy. Quit trying to control everything.”
“I know, I know.”
I loved him. That wasn’t in question. But I also loved the future I had always imagined for myself. The husband and kids and family home filled with love and laughter.
And if I had to choose between those two loves, which would I choose?
I didn’t know.