There was one night. One night and only one night. Though she wasn't quite sure how it happened, it did. Cleo and Greyson, though they never spoke about this, had sworn to themselves somewhere along the way that they would never sleep with each other. Yet, it happened. Cleo remembers the night in full vibrance and keen detail, though she would quickly deny the fact. She would tell who ever was asking that it was kind of drunken fling, some kind of mistake. But to put it simply, it wasn't.
Cleo had felt the sting of rejection knowing that Greyson was perfectly fine without her. It had been a whirlwind emotions and events and Cleo was on her knees in sorrows that year. She was trapped in a destructive and abusive relationship, struggled finically, and to top it all off, fate had cursed her with moving next door to her best friend. Who at the time was nothing close to a best friend. Somehow, Greyson and Cleo had found even standing ground. And what's more perplexing is that Greyson let Cleo stay with him and his girlfriend as she tried to get her life together. That time in her life was just an overall tense time, with many many growing pains to deal with.
She was twenty-three when everything had changed. It was that one night. The night before Grey's plane. Cleo didn't know when he would be back, or when she would talk to him next. The next morning, when she saw him off, she had cried. Like when they hadn't been in contact for years, she feared that she would lose him completely. But with unspoken words she let him go, and let things settle with just an honest goodbye and an I'll miss you.
Since that morning Cleo had become someone unrecognizable to her prior self. She worked hard, took the time to buy an actual house, and payed her bills on time. Cleo was what one would categorize as a bona fide adult. Her body filled out again, she no longer partook of cigarettes or any sort of drug. She worked full time as a sprouting photographer for the paper and supported herself well. And even more importantly, she supported her daughter.
Her named was Josephine Grey Milson, and she was just perfect. She was now 4 years old, as smart as a whip, and had his eyes. She had an intense loyalty just like Greyson, and spoke just as Cleo had imagined Greyson as a child. Trenton was still apart of this story though, Cleo was still seeing Trent on and off during that time that Josephine was conceived. He was under the impression that Jo was his daughter. And though this one child had changed him completely, Josephine wasn't his daughter. Jo was Greyson's daughter, and neither of them even knew.
It was a Sunday morning, the pale light of the sun coming in Cleo's kitchen windows and making beautiful designs across the empty table in front of her. On the front page of this weeks Sunday paper was her photo. She was proud of herself and wished that she could share her joy. Since her turn around and Grey's absence, she was slowly rekindling her relationship with her family, but it was nowhere close to point where she could just call up her sister or mother and chat. Her friends were still in the dumps, and though Trenton was still there, she wasn't sure of a permanent life with him. Somewhere along the way she had her head screwed back on, and she realized the bad in Trenton. Jo was under the impression that her father was Trenton, so Cleo took her to see him every other weekend. Cleo never left her alone with him though. Too much had happened to Cleo for her to trust Trenton with her only child.
Cleo was a lonely soul, though she didn't crave any of the attention that she used to. She was perfectly happy and satisfied with her little house, her little job, and her little girl. And though she ached from the hole that Greyson left, she was living. It had been five years since Cleo had last seen Greyson Walker, and at this point, she wasn't really sure she wanted to. There was a bitterness that sat at the bottom of her heart knowing that he was the father of her daughter, and that he was God knows where. A pot of coffee brewed in the far corner of the kitchen as her dreamy eyes looked out the window into the neighborhood. Earlier this morning Cleo had checked in on Jo. The little bundle was perfectly at rest with her arms wrapped around her plush ducky and the cat Squishy at her side. It was fairly early, so it would take Jo at least an hour to wake into the day.
Tomorrow was Cleo's twenty-eighth birthday. She had found some silly recipe online and planned on baking the cake with Josephine today. They were also going to make birthday crafts, from the silly hats down to the noise makers. Sunday was the day that Cleo and Josephine spent the whole day together. Cleo, being the mother that she is, always found some kind of slightly educational and mostly fun activity for the two of them to do. Last week they had gone ice-skating. And Josephine, being Greyson's daughter, out skated her mother on her first try.
There wasn't much to complain about in Cleo's life. She was splendidly happy with her photography and her Sunday Jo days. The only thing that was missing was Grey. Then she might dare to say that her life would be perfect.
