Chapter 10
CLEO
The spa day was exactly what I needed after the rather rough start. I felt human again. My puffiness was gone. I was hydrated and supremely relaxed. The headache was gone and I was able to function normally.
After our initial treatments, we were led to a beautiful relaxation room with windows overlooking a Zen garden.
I immediately pulled out my phone. I started composing shots.
Evaluating the lighting and determining the best angle to get a picture that didn’t reveal too much but just enough. That was what I did.
But Cash’s voice was in the back of my mind. Why not let Melody figure things out?
Because this was what I did. It was literally my job. When Melody decided she wanted a break, she would tell me. Until then, I was going to do the job she paid me to do.
“Okay, Melody, can you sit by the window with the cucumber water? Yes, perfect. Now look contemplative. Like you’re thinking deep thoughts about… I don’t know, serenity or whatever.”
Melody laughed but posed anyway, her natural influencer instincts kicking in. The light was perfect, catching the glow of her skin and the happiness radiating from her.
Sylvie watched this entire process with fascination bordering on bewilderment. “You really do this all the time?”
“Every day,” I confirmed, snapping several shots from different angles. “Content is currency. You’ve got to feed the algorithm or it forgets you exist.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is. But it’s also my job. Well, part of my job. I’m also a therapist, bodyguard, stylist, and professional opinion-haver.”
“She’s being modest,” Melody added. “She’s basically a wizard. I don’t know how my business would function without her. I’m not sure how I would function without her.”
The words were meant as a compliment, but they landed heavy in my chest.
Cash’s words from last night echoed in my head. I loved Melody like a sister, but maybe our relationship was a little one-sided. I knew she loved me and would walk through fire for me, but she had Austin now. I didn’t need to run her life. I had to start thinking about me. My life. My goals.
I shook it off and kept shooting. “Okay, now both of you. Sylvie, just do what Melody’s doing. Look peaceful.”
Sylvie gamely attempted to look peaceful while Melody struck pose after pose with the ease of someone who’d done this thousands of times.
“Should I be doing something with my hands?” Sylvie asked.
“Just be natural.”
“I don’t know what natural looks like in this context.”
I lowered my phone and grinned at her. “You’re overthinking it. Just exist beautifully. You’re literally glowing. New-mom glow is a real thing, and you have it in spades.”
Sylvie blushed but relaxed. I managed to get some genuinely lovely shots of the two women together.
“Okay, robes,” I announced. “We need the full spa aesthetic.” I pointed at Sylvie, who was about to stand. “Make sure your feet are covered.”
She looked down at her feet, confused. “Why?”
“No free foot pics. It’s a whole thing. People have weird fetishes, and the internet is a lawless wasteland. You do not want your tootsies being passed around on WikiFeet.”
Sylvie’s eyes went wide. “That’s so weird.”
“Welcome to the influencer economy,” Melody said, already adjusting her robe to cover her feet.
Sylvie looked genuinely horrified, which I found both amusing and endearing. She was so normal. So removed from this bizarre digital landscape that Melody and I navigated daily. She was a small-town girl who had lived a relatively sheltered life. I kind of envied her for that.
We spent the next hour enjoying more treatments.
Every treatment was documented, of course.
Melody’s followers would eat this up. We had pulled back from anything too personal, but a spa day wasn’t crossing any boundaries.
It was basic bitch stuff that thousands of influencers posted.
It was all about adding fresh pictures and letting her followers know she was still around.
Finally, we were led to the mineral pools. A series of gorgeous stone-lined pools with varying temperatures, all overlooking the ocean. The hottest one released steam into the cool air, creating a dreamy, ethereal effect. It looked so inviting.
We sank into the warmest pool, and I literally groaned with pleasure. “This is heaven,” I declared. “I’m never leaving. You can just ship my mail here.”
Melody laughed, but she was already looking blissful, her head resting against the smooth stone edge. “Can we talk about how insane it is that I’m growing a human right now?”
“So insane,” Sylvie agreed. “Just wait until you can feel them move. That’s when it really hits you.”
And just like that, they were off, talking about pregnancy symptoms. The good, bad, and the maybe too much information. Sylvie shared stories about Tiana’s first weeks, the sleepless nights, the overwhelming love that hit you like a freight train.
I tried to participate. I really did. But I felt so out of my depth that I might as well have been speaking a foreign language. I didn’t know anything about pregnancy. I’d never thought seriously about nursery themes. The difference between a bassinet and a crib was a complete mystery to me.
So I smiled and nodded and made appropriate noises while my mind wandered. And guess where it went? Cash.
I had been tipsy but not blind or dense. It felt like we had crossed into some strange new territory the night before. If it had been any other guy, I think there would have been a kiss. But it was Cash Bancroft. That harsh reality kept me grounded.
Was he thinking about me? Probably not. He was probably on the golf course right then, talking about business and profit margins and whatever else rich men discussed while hitting their little balls.
“Cleo?”
I blinked and realized Melody had been talking to me. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you think sage green or soft yellow would be better for the nursery.”
“Oh. Um. Either would be beautiful?”
Melody studied me, and I could see the concern in her eyes.
She knew I wasn’t really there, mentally speaking.
But she didn’t push it. We knew each other well.
I didn’t want her worrying about me, so I put on a bright smile and pretended I was having the time of my life talking about stretch-mark prevention.
“Yellow it is,” she decided. “Gender neutral and cheerful.”
After we’d turned into prunes, we rinsed off in hot showers that felt almost as good as the pools themselves. I washed away the mineral smell and emerged feeling like a completely new person. My skin felt amazing. I had to keep myself from rubbing my body. It was baby-butt smooth.
We reconvened for lunch in the spa’s dining room. It was an airy space with white linens and fresh flowers on every table. Our server appeared almost immediately, and he was exactly the kind of person you’d expect to work at a high-end spa.
“Hello, gorgeous ladies!” He was probably in his mid-twenties, with perfectly styled hair, and an enthusiasm that was contagious.
“Welcome, welcome! I’m Trevor, and I’ll be taking care of you today.
Can I start you with some sparkling water?
Infused with cucumber and mint? Or perhaps some fresh juice? ”
“Sparkling water sounds perfect,” Melody said.
“Wonderful choice!” Trevor beamed at her. “And for you, darling?” He turned to Sylvie.
“The same, please.”
“Excellent! And for our resident photographer?”
I gave him a blank look.
“I saw you working earlier. Absolutely adore those shots. Can’t wait to see them on the Gram. What can I get you?”
I couldn’t help but smile at his energy. “Do you have Diet Coke?”
“Perfection! Be right back, my loves.”
He disappeared, and Sylvie leaned forward. “Do you think he’s always like that?”
“Some people are just like that,” I said. “High energy, lots of pet names. I think it’s sweet.”
“It’s a lot,” she whispered. “Although I suppose it’s better than him being a grump.”
Trevor returned with our drinks and launched into an elaborate description of the menu. By the time we ordered, we were all a bit overwhelmed by his enthusiasm. I loved the royal treatment, but damn.
“That’s how Kent treats me at home,” Sylvie said once Trevor had bounded away. “Like I’m the most important person in the universe. My parents adore him for it. They were so worried when I met him but he won them over immediately.”
“How?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“He listened. He cared. He didn’t try to change anything about me or my life.
He just fit himself into our world that is so far removed from his billionaire lifestyle.
And now we have this perfect little home on my family’s property.
It’s cozy and warm.” She smiled and got a bit of a forlorn expression.
“I’m already aching to get back. I miss my living room.
I miss the nursing chair in Tiana’s bedroom.
I miss the way the mountains look in the morning. ”
There was such pure love in her voice that I felt a pang of longing. That was what I wanted. That certainty. That sense of home.
Melody launched into her own nursery plans, her eyes lighting up as she described her vision.
“I’m thinking yellow walls with white furniture.
And I want one of those reading nooks in the corner with a really comfortable chair.
I’m going to read to the baby every night.
I want a bookshelf in the corner filled with all the classics. ”
Sylvie joined in, sharing tips about blackout curtains and white noise machines.
I was trying so hard to participate again. I so wanted to be the supportive best friend I was supposed to be. But I felt like I was drowning. I really needed to give myself a crash course on nurseries. It would make for some excellent content.
“What do you think, Cleo?” Melody asked. “Should we go with a woodland theme or keep it more minimal?”
“I think…” I searched for something useful to contribute. “I think whatever makes you happy is the right choice. And we can definitely do a photoshoot when it’s done. The content will be amazing.”
It was a deflection, and we both knew it. But Melody let it slide.
Trevor brought our food, beautiful salads with edible flowers and perfectly grilled chicken. I ate and smiled and tried to ignore the growing feeling that I was being left behind.
After lunch, we hit some local shops. There were galleries selling ocean-themed art for thousands of dollars and a bookstore that smelled like expensive candles.
And then we found the baby boutiques. Multiple baby boutiques, because apparently wealthy people needed options when buying tiny expensive clothes.
Melody was in heaven, touching every fabric and exclaiming over every miniature outfit. Sylvie provided practical advice about what was actually useful versus what just looked cute.
I wandered through the store, running my fingers over impossibly small onesies and trying to imagine a tiny human wearing them.
That was when I saw it. A yellow onesie with a little duck embroidered on the chest. It was adorable.
I had seen Melody admiring it earlier but she had moved on because she’d said she didn’t want to buy too much too soon.
I glanced around to make sure she wasn’t watching, then grabbed it, and took it to the register.
“This is so cute,” the cashier cooed.
“I know. That’s why I couldn’t pass it up.” I paid and slipped the bag into my larger tote before Melody could notice. It was a small thing, but it made me feel like I was contributing something meaningful to this new chapter of her life.
We piled back into the car, all of us pleasantly exhausted and smelling like lavender and eucalyptus. The drive back to the beach house was quiet, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Melody had a content smile on her face, her head back and eyes closed.
I was happy for her. There was no doubt about that. But I also wanted what she had.