Page 162 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“Fine. But I’m drawing the line at purple walls.”

“What about an accent wall?”

“Cleo, purple is not a wall color.”

“One accent wall. In the guest room. You’ll barely see it.”

“Why do I feel like I’m going to lose this argument?”

“Because you are.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But you love me anyway.”

“I really do.”

This was it. This was my life now. Living with the man I loved. Being Auntie Cleo to the most perfect baby in the world. Building a business I was proud of. Making a home that felt like us.

“Happy?” Cash asked, pulling me close.

“So happy.”

“Good.” He kissed me. “Because this is just the beginning.”

“I know.”

And I couldn’t wait for the rest of it.

EPILOGUE

CLEO

Two months later

Rome in winter was different than Rome in summer. It was a different kind of beautiful.

The tourist crowds had thinned. The heat had given way to cool temps. The sky was overcast but gorgeous. We had spent the New Year in New York with family and then decided to take January off to get in that traveling we were always putting off.

I sat in the same piazza where Cash and I had fallen in love, the one with the fountain and the café and the memory of dancing on cobblestones while drunk on wine and possibility. My laptop was open in front of me, a video call window showing Sarah, one of my coaching clients. One of ten. The business was still building but it was perfectly manageable. I didn’t want to take on too much and not be able to provide my clients with the time and attention I promised.

She was telling me about her latest success. I felt like a proud mama. I had helped her reach her dreams. Me. I did that.

Her joy was why I’d taken the leap. Why I’d left my job with Melody and started my own coaching practice. These moments when someone realized their own power.

“I’m so proud of you,” I said.

We scheduled our next session and said goodbye. I closed my laptop and checked the time.

Cash was late. Twenty minutes late, which was unheard of. The man was pathologically punctual.

I tried calling. It went to voicemail.

A flutter of worry started in my stomach. What if something happened? What if he got mugged or lost? What if there had been an accident? Would they know to call me?

No. I was spiraling. He was fine. Probably just stuck in traffic or dealing with some last-minute thing.

I called Melody instead.

She picked up mid-laugh. “Hey! Hold on.” More laughter. “Austin, stop it, you’re going to make me pee.”

In the background, I heard Austin making what sounded like whale noises. And then baby Timothy’s giggling.