Page 138 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

One by one, couples left. Cleo and I spent some time inside. It was so easy to just be with her.

It was an hour later when I went to check on things. The party was officially over.

“Come with me,” I said to Cleo, who was picking up napkins and plates.

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

The reception was all but over. There were the usual diehards. Last I’d seen Finn, he was walking away with a blonde attached to his neck like one of those sucker fishes that clings to the side of a fishtank.

“Stay here,” I said.

I grabbed a blanket from the closet. When I returned, Cleo was holding a bottle of champagne.

“Perfect,” I said.

I took her hand and led her to the path that took us down to the beach. The weather was perfect. I was a little warm with all the alcohol and dancing, but as soon as the breeze blew across the water, I was immediately cooler.

The beach was empty now. The tent still stood but the lights were off, chairs stacked. It was peaceful.

We walked past all of it, away from the house and the faint sounds of the lingering party.

“Here,” I said, spreading the blanket.

She sat down without question. I settled beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched, and we both just stared out at the water.

I had lost my jacket an hour ago. Not lost. I was sure it was somewhere. My sleeves were rolled up. Collar undone.

Cleo reached up and started to pull what looked like a million pins from her hair. It fell around her shoulders. I was mesmerized watching her run her fingers through it.

“God, that feels good,” she groaned.

“That was a lot of pins.”

“There is so much hairspray in my hair, it will take a month to get it all out.”

“It looked good,” I said.

“Thank you. Austin paid a small fortune for that glam squad.”

“Trust me, he can afford it.”

She laughed. “I know.”

Her attention was back on the ocean with the gentle waves rolling in.

“It’s beautiful,” Cleo said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Partially.” I leaned back on my hands, tilting my head up. “The night sky makes me think of you now.”

She turned to look at me. “What?”

“Here in the Hamptons. Back in Rome. Every time I see stars, I think of you.” I kept my eyes on the sky. “That night on the balcony in Rome, when we drank champagne and you told me about your dreams. Even that first night here, when you were crying in the bathroom and I didn’t know how to help.”