Page 87 of My Real Love Affair

I knew exactly who she was talking about, but I wasn’t about to make it easy. Cleo had specifically said no questions about personal issues. But we both knew the questions would come anyway.

“Well, Austin Bancroft, of course.” Her eyes sparkled. “What’s the status of your relationship with him?”

There it was.

“Oh, um—” I tried to pivot. “I’m really here to talk about fashion and my blog.”

“Come on,” Stacy teased gently. “My listeners are dying to know. You two were all over social media for weeks. That kiss? Iconic. And then that whole club incident—people are still talking about it.”

“There’s no relationship,” I said again. “Not anymore. It was fun while it lasted. Austin is—he’s a good man. I was lucky to get to know him the way I did.” The words felt hollow even as I said them. “I wish him all the best.”

Stacy’s expression shifted to sympathetic disappointment. “Oh no. So you two really are done?”

“We really are.”

“That’s too bad. You seemed good together.” She put on a bit of a show for her listeners, dramatically sighing. “Well, that wasn’t the tea I was hoping for. But I appreciate your honesty. And Melody? You are as beautiful as your style. Inside and out. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he is definitely the one missing out.”

“Thank you.”

I wasn’t a fool. I knew she was looking to align with me. She was hoping I would spill theteashe was anxious to get. It wasn’t going to happen. I was staying far away from that topic.

The rest of the interview wrapped up quickly after that. Stacy asked a few more questions about upcoming projects and where people could follow me, and then we were done.

“That was amazing,” Stacy said as the recording stopped. “Thank you so much for being here.”

“Thank you for having me. I’ve been listening to your podcast for years, so this was amazing.” I felt my cheeks warm. “This was kind of a dream come true.”

“Well, you were a dream guest. Come back anytime.”

Cleo and I gathered our things and headed out of the studio into the Brooklyn sunshine.

“You killed it,” Cleo said immediately. “Like, absolutely destroyed. Stacy loved you. Her audience is going to love you. This was perfect. Exactly the kind of publicity we need. People are going to eat it up.”

“Even the Austin question?”

“Especially the Austin question. You handled it with class. Didn’t trash him, didn’t get emotional, just kept it dignified.” She linked her arm through mine. “And in another couple weeks,people will have moved on. They’ll forget about Austin Bancroft. All he’s got going for him is a nice face.”

“Cleo,” I warned.

We had been over this several times. I would not disparage him to her or anyone else. Whatever Austin did, that was his choice. I couldn’t be mad at him for cheating on me because we were never actually together.

“And a great butt,” she continued, warming to her theme. “And those shoulders. The forearms are my personal favorite.”

“I get it.”

“Do you? Because you’ve been moping for three weeks.”

“I haven’t been moping.”

She gave me a look. “Melody, you’re moping.”

“I’m processing.”

“You’re moping.” But her voice was gentle. “Which is fine. You’re allowed to mope. He hurt you. But also—and I say this with love—he’s been trying really hard to make it up to you.”

He apologized. Big deal. It didn’t matter.

None of what he tried to do erased what had happened at that club. The photos. The embarrassment. The way it had felt to see him with someone else mere hours after we’d kissed. People didn’t know what we had wasn’t real. They believed it was and it was humiliating. I stopped reading the comments. They were too much. And the speculation was ridiculous. People got very creative when they were spinning stories, especially when the Bancroft name was involved.