Page 91 of The Perfect Melody

It’s utterly pissing it down outside, so going for a walk to clear my head is out. I could grab a day pass at the gym, but the last thing I want is to be around people right now. It probably won’t be busy this early on a Sunday morning, but I’m not risking it. Luckily, I’ve got a cross-trainer and some free weights at home.

Putting in my wireless earbuds, I do a few warm-up stretches. When the next song on the playlist I chose comes on, I get on the cross-trainer, quickly working my way up to a punishing pace. Soon enough my lungs and muscles burn and sweat clings to my skin. Swiping a few salty droplets from my eyes, I keep going, keep pushing. Still, thoughts of Cassie, Melody, whoever she is, plague me.

Of all the secrets I imagined Cassie could have been keeping from me, I never, not once, thought it could be this. I thought we were the same, that we both wanted a quiet, simple life. She claims that’s true, that she’s staying in Pine Grove, but how would that work? Could it really be as easy as she made it sound? Well, not easy, but not impossible. My breaths saw in and out of my lungs as I forge on. Is there really a chance Cassie and I could make this work?

An hour later, I’m no closer to an answer, and my limbs feel like jelly. I abandon the cross-trainer, give it a quick wipe down, then head straight for a shower. Even once I’m physically clean, I can’t wash away the sting of last night’s revelation. I need to talk to someone, but who? Frustration and exhaustion war within me as I yank my towel off the rail and roughly dry myself off.

An hour and a half later, I’m knocking on a familiar blue front door.

“Austin?” Francis looks like he only just got out of bed, even though he and Reggie are usually early risers. They came to watch Cassie and me perform last night. From the looks of things, they must have stayed long after the two of us went home. Francis is dressed in striped pyjama trousers and a t-shirt that’s on inside out and the wrong way round. His wire-framed glasses sit askew on the bridge of his narrow nose, and his hair is even wilder than usual. “Do you and Reggie have plans today?”

“No. I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced, but I need—” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I need to talk.”

His expression morphs from confusion to concern. “Of course. Come on in. I’ll get Reggie, then pop the kettle on.”

“Thanks. Actually, I brought coffee and pastries.” I waited outside the door of Beans & Bakes for Daphne to flip the sign from closed to open, stepping inside to order at ten on the dot. If not for the coffee shop’s Sunday hours, I would have been here sooner.

Francis blinks owlishly, his half-asleep brain taking a second to process before his gaze drops to the tray of coffees in my hand, and then up to the bag tucked in the crook of my arm. His lips twist into a wry smile. “I knew there was I reason I liked you, even if it was difficult to remember why when you interrupted a lovely morning in bed with my husband.”

Oh. The knots in my stomach over everything that happened with Cassie grow tighter. I already felt guilty intruding on my friends’ Sunday morning instead of waiting until game night to bring up my personal drama. Knowing I’ve essentially thrown a bucket of cold water on their sex life by showing up with no warning only makes it worse.Crossing the threshold, I give him an apologetic look. “Ah, sorry.” Hopefully, the caffeine and baked goods help make up for it.

Francis waves off my apology. “No worries. Take a seat in the kitchen. I’ll get Reggie.”

A few minutes later, Reggie and Francis enter the kitchen, their pyjama bottoms and looks of concern matching. Noticing that the t-shirt Francis is wearing is now the right way round, I smile even though watching the two of them together makes my bruised heart ache. Reggie pulls out a chair for Francis, and they take their seats opposite me.

Francis automatically adds sugar to Reggie’s coffee. Meanwhile, Reg peers into the bag of pastries, then sets an almond croissant—Francis’ favourite—on a plate for his husband before grabbing a pain au chocolat for himself. Their love has never been flashy and loud, but it’s always been impossible to miss. It’s the small, quiet things they do for each other every day. I thought Cassie and I were heading towards something similar, at least eventually. Knowing us, there would have been more good-natured bickering. After last night, I don’t know where we’re going.

“Mate, what’s happened?” Reggie asks, voice laced with concern.

“I—” Pressing my lips together, I cut myself off. I didn’t think this through before coming here. All I wanted was to get out of the house and talk to someone. I didn’t consider how difficult this would be. No matter what, I won’t betray Cassie’s trust by sharing her secret, but how am I supposed to get actionable advice if I can’t fully explain the situation?

“Come on, you’ve never been one to mince words. Don’t start now,” he encourages.

“It’s not that.” I take a sip of coffee from my takeaway cup. “I’m going to be frustratingly vague.”

“As opposed to your usual tendency to overshare?” There’s no missing the sarcasm in Francis’ voice. Reg shoots his husband a look, but I’m not offended.

“It’s not my secret to tell, but I still need advice,” I explain.

Francis nods. “Fair enough.” He tears off a small piece of his croissant while I let my plain one sit untouched in front of me—a crime considering Daphne’s a phenomenal baker.

“Cassie told me something last night, and I don’t know what to do about it. She’s been keeping a secret from me—a big one.”

“Don’t bite my head off,” Reg begins cautiously, “but didn’t you kind of know that already? You’ve been convinced she was hiding something since the moment she came to town.”

“Yes, but now I know what it is.”

“Is it bad? Is she in trouble, danger? Are you?” Francis asks, a frown tugging down his brows and the corners of his mouth.

“We’re both fine,” I assure them. Taking another sip of coffee, I run a hand over my beard, considering my next words carefully. “Her secret, it… it changes things. The future I imagined for us—that won’t exist.”

“The future rarely brings what we expect. Life is inherently unpredictable,” Francis says.

“Put aside what you thought for a minute,” Reg instructs. “Can you still see a future with Cassie now that you know whatever it is she’s shared with you?”

“I don’t know.”

Reggie’s expression softens. “I think you do, or you wouldn’t be here stressing out. If you were done, you’d be done. You’ve never had trouble making tough decisions and taking action. The fact we’re even having this conversation tells me you still care about her.”