Cleo McDougal Regrets Nothing: A Novel by Allison Winn Scotch

Author:Allison Winn Scotch [Scotch, Allison Winn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-31T18:30:00+00:00

Though Cleo expected Bowen to have fancy plans—a nightclub or, at the very least, dinner at the Soho House—he was happy, eager, almost, to stick around the apartment, loitering as if there were nowhere else he’d rather be. He hunched over, peered at pictures that lined her bookshelves—mostly of Lucas over the years, a few of her parents too. Cleo tried to relax and be, well, normal, that he was here, in her space, but she was not so easily adaptable. She found herself skulking into opposite corners and making excuses to straighten up Lucas’s room or refill the bottomless glass of Diet Coke in the kitchen.

She hadn’t heard from Gaby all afternoon, so Cleo assumed that she was knee-deep with Oliver Patel, and though Cleo liked Gaby’s input and feedback on her working weekends, she was relieved to have fallen off her radar. Arianna had uploaded her schedule to her phone, and her staff who worked out of Manhattan had touched base, ready for the few events and the meet and greets that she had with her voters. Cleo didn’t always head to New York City on her working weekends. Sometimes it was Buffalo or Schenectady or Albany or even the North Fork. Her constituents were varied and diverse, and ironically, though Cleo was a loner who despised small talk, she truly loved making the time to meet with them. Part of it was that they had chosen her, which, anyone with any sort of power can tell you, is a little bit intoxicating, but part of it was that they had chosen her to make a difference in their lives. She might be the type of woman who would sabotage her best friend’s hopes for an internship, but she was also the type of woman who could still carry around hope for change. Only Forward! Those two things weren’t incompatible, even if they seemed like they should be.

Cleo’s stomach growled, and she palmed her abdomen with embarrassment when Bowen jolted upright from a photograph he was admiring of her in London with Lucas. He’d heard it from across the living room.

“Sorry,” she said. (Why did she just apologize for being hungry? For her intestines shifting? Like she had any control over that!) “I haven’t eaten anything since DC.”

“I offered you my scone.”

“Ever the gentleman.” Cleo looped her right hand in two circles in front of her like she was a queen taking a bow, then realized she had no idea why she was doing this and stopped.

“Where can we go to get something to eat around here?”

“You don’t have plans tonight?” Cleo asked in a tone that probably betrayed her discomfort.

“Why would I have plans tonight? I came to the city at your request.”

“Right, but, um, I mean, we don’t have to spend twenty-four hours t-together.” Cleo found herself stuttering, and she did not like finding herself stuttering one bit. She also was aware that she would like to shower, that the grit from the train and the

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