Page 18 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

Good question. Why did I care? Why did it matter if Cleo Quinn went back to her room or stayed there with me?

“Because I think you need to talk about it. And I think you need someone who isn’t Melody to hear it.”

She stared at me. I could see her weighing her options. Flight or fight. Retreat or advance. What was my ulterior motive? That was her real concern.

Finally, she sighed. “Fine. Then top me off.”

We moved back inside. I grabbed the bottle from where I’d left it and refilled both our glasses. I settled back into my chair while Cleo curled up in hers, tucking her legs underneath her in a way that should have looked uncomfortable but somehow seemed natural.

“So,” I prompted. “What would you do if you weren’t working with Melody?”

She took a long sip of her drink, clearly gathering courage. “I have big dreams.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean big dreams. Like, empire-building dreams. Like Bancroft-empire size dreams. I want to create something that helps women find their ‘thing’ and realize their potential. A platform, maybe. Or working as a consultant. I haven’t figured out the exact structure yet, but the vision is there.”

As she talked, she became more animated, more alive. Her hands started moving, gesturing to emphasize points. Her eyes got wide when she was excited about a particular aspect of her vision. Even her voice changed. It was downright adorable.

“I’m thinking about women who feel stuck,” she continued, the words coming faster now. “Women who have the talent and the drive but don’t know how to channel it. Or they’re afraid to try. Or they’ve been told their dreams are too big, too impractical, or just too much. I want to be the person who tells them fuck that noise. Oops. Sorry. Alcohol. Loose lips.”

“Don’t apologize for cursing. I’ve heard worse.”

She grinned. “My point is, I want to tell people their dreams are valid. Their ambitions matter. And give them a roadmap to help them get there.”

I found myself leaning forward too, caught up in her enthusiasm. “That’s a solid concept. Have you thought about the business model? Subscription-based coaching? One-on-one consulting? Group programs?”

“All of the above, probably. I want multiple tiers so it’s accessible to different income levels. And I want a strong social media presence. Obviously, that’s my wheelhouse. Build a community first, then monetize strategically.”

“Smart.”

She was practically glowing then. I realized this might have been the first time I was seeing the real Cleo. Not the sarcastic assistant who deflected with humor. Not the defensive woman who acted like she didn’t care what anyone thought. This was Cleo with her walls down, talking about something she was genuinely passionate about.

She didn’t hate me. Not right then, at least. She was leaning in, making eye contact. I felt like her friend. So this was what Melody was holding on to so tightly.

I understood it. Cleo in your corner would be like having the entire Avenger squad at your back.

But she still hated me, right? She must. One night with a buzz of prosecco and new baby news wasn’t going to change months of mutual antagonism.

Was it?

“The problem is,” Cleo said with a heavy sigh, “I’m afraid of embarking on my own and letting Melody down. We have big plans this year for her brand. And I’m already brainstorming a maternity line for her. The pregnancy is going to be such great content—bump progression, nursery design, maternity fashion. I’ve got a whole strategy mapped out.”

And there it was. The heart of her conflict.

“That’s exactly the kind of thing you have to stop doing,” I told her.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let Melody come up with her own ideas and execute them. She’s capable. She doesn’t need you to do all her thinking for her.”

“I’m not doing all her thinking.”

“Aren’t you?” I kept my voice gentle, but I needed her to hear this. “You just said you’re already brainstorming her maternity line. Did she ask you to? Or did you just automatically start planning her future for her?”

Cleo opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. “She doesn’t have to ask. I know what she needs. I’ve been anticipating her needs for years. She’ll want to do this. I have to be ready when she comes to me.”

“Probably. Maybe. But you don’t know. And more importantly, she may want to take a pause. She’s got a wedding coming up. Then newlywed life. Then pregnancy, which, from what I understand from my sisters-in-law, is exhausting. Then new motherhood. That’s a lot of major life changes in a very short time.”