Chapter 71
AUSTIN
The Hamptons house was exactly what we needed.
It was a sprawling estate set back from the road, surrounded by tall hedges that guaranteed complete privacy.
It belonged to my family, but none of my brothers used it much.
They all had their own properties out here, which meant this one sat empty most of the year.
Perfect for a weekend where we needed to disappear.
I pulled into the circular driveway, and Melody let out a small gasp. “Austin, this is gorgeous.”
“Wait until you see the inside,” I said, coming around to open her door. “And the pool. And the beach access.”
“There’s beach access?”
“Private beach. About a five-minute walk through the dunes.”
She looked at me with those hazel eyes that still made my heart skip. “You Bancrofts really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
“Would you want us to?”
“Absolutely not,” she said, laughing. “Show me everything.”
I gave her the full tour—the gourmet kitchen that put my penthouse to shame, the living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pool and ocean beyond, the master bedroom with a bed so large it was almost ridiculous.
Five other bedrooms, all empty. A media room.
A gym. A wine cellar that could have stocked a restaurant.
“This is insane,” Melody said, spinning around in the master bedroom. “How many people usually stay here?”
“When we were younger? All of us. It was chaos—brothers everywhere, constant noise, someone always breaking something.” I smiled at the memory. “Now? It mostly sits empty. Waiting.”
“For what?”
“For the next generation, I guess. Or when my brothers’ kids are old enough to appreciate it. It’s not quite big enough for family gatherings these days. One of my brothers just bought one of those big mansions about a mile down. That’s where they held the family get together last summer.”
“The one you didn’t go to?”
I shook my head. “No, but Kent sent me a ton of pictures. I got curious and looked the place up online. It’s huge. Something like thirteen bedrooms and fifteen bathrooms. Plenty big to host our growing family gatherings.”
“And this one?”
I looked around, memories flooding me. “I don’t know. It has sentimental value. I think it’s better suited for weekends like this, when I need to hide away with the woman I love.”
She melted into me. “I like that reason best.”
Did she hear me? I needed to make my declaration clearer. I wanted her to really hear me. And I supposed I needed to know if she felt the same way.
I held her close and was having one hell of a mental war when she squeezed me. “Austin?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Oh, thank God.
“Yeah?” I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Austin.”
“I love you, Melody.”
We spent the afternoon christening various rooms of the house, making love in the bedroom, the shower, on the couch in the living room with the ocean view spread out before us. Each time felt different. Urgent and desperate, then slow and tender, then playful and laughing.
By evening, we were both starving, and I suggested we cook dinner together.
“You cook?” Melody teased, knowing damn well I didn’t.
“Teach me.”
“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got in this massive pantry.”
We ended up making pasta from scratch—or rather, Melody made pasta from scratch while I tried to help and mostly just got in the way.
But she laughed the whole time, patient with my mistakes, and when we finally sat down to eat our slightly lumpy but delicious fettuccine, I felt like I was actually learning valuable skills.
“This is nice,” she said, twirling pasta on her fork. “Domestic. Normal.”
“Is this what you imagined when you thought about your future? Cooking pasta with someone?”
“Actually, yes.” She smiled. “I’ve always wanted this—someone to cook with, to share meals with, to build a home with. The influencer thing, the career, that’s amazing. But this?” She gestured between us. “This is what I really wanted.”
“What else did you imagine?”
“Kids,” she said without hesitation. “I told you that before. I’ve always seen myself as a mom. I want the chaos of family dinners, the bedtime stories, the first days of school. All of it.”
I thought about my nephew Conrad and how much I’d enjoyed playing with him at Isaac’s house. How the idea of kids had shifted from something that seemed terrifying to something that felt… possible.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said carefully. “About kids.”
She set down her fork, giving me her full attention. “Yeah?”
“My nieces and nephews—I want to spend more time with them. Get to know them better. Be the fun uncle who actually shows up instead of the one who just sends expensive presents and disappears.”
Her smile was soft and knowing. “That sounds nice.”
“And I was thinking.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “Maybe it’s not as scary as I thought. The dad thing. If I could be half as good at it as my brothers seem to be, that would be something.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Happy ones, I hoped. I knew she understood what I was really saying. That the door I’d kept firmly closed was opening. That I could see a future that included the things she wanted, the things she needed to be happy and fulfilled.
“I’m not saying I’m ready tomorrow,” I clarified quickly. “But maybe someday. If it’s with you.”
She got up from her chair and came to sit in my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Someday sounds perfect.”
After dinner, we took a bottle of wine and headed down to the beach. The sun was setting, creating the most beautiful, romantic backdrop. We walked along the water’s edge until we found a spot to sit.
“Tell me about your dreams,” I said, pulling her against my side. “The real ones. Not just the career stuff but the life stuff.”
She was quiet for a moment, staring out at the ocean.
“I want a home. Not just a house, but a real home. Somewhere that feels safe and warm and full of love. I want Sunday morning pancakes and board game nights. I want a partner who I can laugh with even when things are hard. I want kids who feel loved unconditionally.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“What about you? What do you want?”
I’d never really thought about it before in concrete terms. My dreams had always been vague—freedom, adventure, escape. But now, sitting here with Melody, I could see it clearly.
“I want what you want,” I said. “The home, the family, all of it. But more than that, I want to stop running. I’ve spent so many years chasing the next thrill and trying to prove something to myself or to my father. And I’m tired of it.”
“What do you want instead?”
“I want to build something that lasts. Something real.” I looked at her. “With you.”
We stayed on the beach until it got dark, then headed back to the house. Melody suggested skinny dipping in the pool, and who was I to argue? We stripped off our clothes and dove into the heated water, the night air cool on our skin.
She was beautiful in the moonlight, all curves and confidence and completely uninhibited. We made love in the shallow end, the water lapping around us, and afterward, we just floated together, looking up at the stars.
“I could get used to this,” she said.
“The Hamptons?”
“This. Us. Having time to just be together without worrying about schemes or threats or what people think.”
“Me too.”
Later, wrapped in plush robes, we curled up on the couch in the living room and put on a movie neither of us really watched. We were too busy talking, planning, dreaming out loud about what our life could look like.
“I need to talk to my father,” I said at one point. “Really talk to him. Clear the air.”
“About what?”
“Everything. The years I spent away. The resentment I’ve been carrying. The fact that I’m not angry anymore.” I paused. “I regret the lost time, but I needed the distance to figure out who I was separate from being a Bancroft. And now I’m ready to come back, but on my terms.”
“That’s brave,” Melody said.
“It’s necessary. I can’t move forward with you, with us, and try to build a life if I’m still carrying all that baggage with my family.”
“When will you talk to him?”
“Soon. Maybe when we get back from this weekend. I want to tell him about you—really tell him, not just the surface stuff he already knows. I want him to understand that you’re not going anywhere, and that I’m serious about building a future. I need him to know you have made me a better man.”
She kissed my cheek. “I’m proud of you.”
“For what?”
“For growing. For being willing to do the hard work of healing those relationships. A lot of people would just cut ties and walk away.”
“I thought about it,” I admitted. “For a long time, I thought about just staying gone. Making my own life somewhere far away from all the Bancroft expectations and drama. But then I realized I’d just be running forever. And I’m done running.”
My mind started to drift as I thought about the new future I saw in front of me.
It was so different than anything I had ever expected.
I had never actually seen it before. It was like a heavy curtain had been pulled up to reveal the grand prize since I skipped the smaller doors. It was right there for the taking.
“Austin?” Melody’s voice pulled me back. “Where did you go just now?”
“Just thinking,” I said.
“About what?”
I looked down at her, at the woman who changed everything. She made me want to be better, do better, live better. She had shown me what love could really look like when it wasn’t tangled up in manipulation or expectations.
“About how I never thought I would have this,” I said honestly. “A moment like this. Someone like you.”
She shifted to look up at me. “What do you mean?”
“I spent so many years chasing things that didn’t matter.
Impulsive fun, adventures that were really just distractions, new women who were really just one night of forgetting.
All the fast cars and expensive toys and stuff that’s supposed to make you feel alive but really just makes you feel empty. ”
“And now?”
“Now it’s all lost its allure. The thrill-seeking, the rebellion, the constant need for something new and exciting. None of it compares to this—to you. To us.”
I sat up slightly, cradling her face in my hands so she had to look at me.
“I want to tell you something,” I said. “And I need you to really hear it.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“I want to make things right with my father. I want to be a better brother. I want to spend time with my nieces and nephews and be someone they can count on.” I paused, making sure she was listening.
“But Melody? All of that—every single bit of it—that’s just bonus. Extra. Nice to have but not necessary.”
“Then what is necessary?”
“You,” I said simply. “Just you. You’re the only thing I actually need. Everything else? That’s just icing. But you’re the cake.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she let out a laugh that was half sob. “Did you just compare me to cake?”
“It’s a good metaphor,” I defended. “Everyone loves cake.”
“It’s a terrible metaphor,” she said, but she was smiling. “But I love you anyway.”
“I love you too. So much that it scares me sometimes.”
“Me too,” she admitted. “I never thought I could feel this way about someone. It’s terrifying to be this happy.”
I kissed her with all the love and gratitude at having found her. When we broke apart, she was crying for real now, happy tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I love you,” I said again, because I couldn’t say it enough. “I love you, Melody Stephens. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it.”
“I love you too, Austin Bancroft. Even when you’re comparing me to baked goods.”
I laughed and pulled her close.
I was never letting go.
The only thing I’d be chasing for the rest of my days was Melody.