Page 205 of My Real Love Affair

CHAPTER 64

MELODY

Ipulled a mug from the cabinet and placed it on the counter a little harder than I probably should have. The sharp clink of ceramic against granite echoed through my quiet kitchen. It wasn’t the mug’s fault that I was in a terrible mood.

I couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in my chest. My townhouse felt so empty. How in the world did I get so used to having Austin around?

I hated it. He had become a crutch. My other half. It was so strange to need someone. Towantsomeone. When I thought about what Summer was planning, my first thought had been to protect him. Okay, maybe not my first thought, but it was a close second.

I grabbed my phone and checked the time. Cleo would be here in twenty minutes. I needed to get myself together, put on something other than these ratty leggings and Austin’s hoodie that I’d stolen while on our trip to Tahiti. It still smelled like him. All that expensive cologne he always wore. It clung to the fabric.

God, I was pathetic.

I trudged upstairs to my bedroom, avoiding looking at the bed where everything had changed. Where he’d made love to melike it was the last time. Where he told me we needed to break up to protect me from the fallout of Summer’s revenge plot.

The conversation replayed in my mind for the thousandth time. He tried so hard to convince me. Had laid out every terrible thing that would happen when Summer went public. How the media would tear me apart, how trolls would come for me again. My business would suffer. He warned me I would be dragged through scandal after scandal just for being with him.

And I told him I didn’t care. But Austin was stubborn.

I changed into something comfortable and easy to change in and out of. I would leave the hair and makeup for the photo shoot as well. Cleo had rented a space for the shoot. We were changing things up a bit. We didn’t always use my home studio for our shoots. We had to change things up.

I heard the doorbell and knew Cleo would let herself in. I grabbed my makeup bag, tossed in a few more things, and headed downstairs.

“Ready?” she asked with a bright grin.

“I amsoready.”

Cleo had a cab waiting with a stuffed garment bag draped over the front seat. We slid into the back seat and off we went.

Cleo nudged me. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yep. Nope. I don’t know. I have to trust the process.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

The rented studio space in Chelsea was perfect. It was all white walls, professional lighting, and enough room for Cleo to spread out all the wardrobe options we’d brought. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the leather jacket over a fitted black bodysuit and high-waisted jeans that hugged every curve.

It was so not me. I couldn’t imagine ever wearing the outfit in public, but the shoot was all about being bold.

“Damn, girl,” Cleo said, circling me with her camera. “You look like you could break hearts and take names.”

“That’s the point,” I said, striking a pose—chin up, shoulders back, one hand on my hip. Confidence radiated from every angle, even though my stomach was churning with nerves about what we were really doing here.

Cleo snapped away, calling out directions. “Give me fierce. Give me ‘I don’t need a man.’ Yes, perfect. Now look over your shoulder like you’re walking away from bullshit and never looking back.”

I followed her instructions, channeling every ounce of attitude I could muster. The outfit helped. There was something empowering about leather and boots and clothes that made me feel untouchable.

She dropped to the floor and did a few shots looking up at me. I did my best “fuck you” look. My red lip was extra bold with dark eye makeup. I felt a little like Olivia Newton John in Grease.

“These are incredible,” Cleo said, reviewing the shots on her camera screen. “This is going to be the perfect post to kick off your ‘single woman’ era again.”

I grinned despite the knot in my stomach. “It sure will.”

“We’ll have every woman in your comment section cheering you on.”