Page 13 of Steel Beauty

I pause for a moment, considering her words. “Yeah, I get that. Timing’s everything, isn’t it? Right person at the wrong time… well, that’s just bad luck.”

“It has to be the right person at the right time or it doesn’t work.”

“Now feels like the ideal time for me. I just have to find the right person.” The words land heavier than I intended, so I clear my throat, hoping they don’t sound as loaded as they feel.

I hear sounds from the other side of the divider––the faint murmur of whispers and unmistakable sound of someone coming and going from the other side of the dating suite.

Charleston clears her throat. “Cleopatra has arrived.”

Oh bloody hell, she’s early.

The announcement cuts through the easy rhythm of our conversation, sharp and sudden. I sit up straighter, the spell between us evaporating, and frustration rises in my chest. Of course, the moment had to end just as it was beginning. Timing, once again, working against me.

“It’s time for me to step out. Have a good date.”

“Thank you, Charleston.”

“You’re quite welcome, Caesar.”

Think. Think. Think.

“Actually, umm… I thought of another place you have to check out while you’re in Sydney. The Rabbit Hole. It’s a speakeasy with an incredible whisky selection.” I clear my throat, trying to sound casual. “It’s a top spot. I’m going there tonight for a drink.”

“I do enjoy a nice whisky.” There’s a flare of intrigue in her words, subtle but noticeable. It makes me wonder if she’s more tempted by the idea of the speakeasy—or maybe by the thought of us both being there.

I lean in, a grin pulling at my lips. “You’d love the Rabbit Hole. It has a special kind of atmosphere—dark, a bit mysterious. You should definitely come.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Perhaps I’ll pay the Rabbit Hole a visit.”

Her words don’t feel like a brush-off, but they’re also not a confirmation that she’ll come either—something in between, leaving me wondering.

“See you later,” she says.

And then she’s gone, leaving behind the echo of her voice—and the ache of something unfinished.

The soft click of the door signals Cleopatra’s arrival. Her heels tap lightly against the floor as she takes a moment to settle in on the other side of the divider.

“Hi, Julius Caesar!”

The date with Cleopatra is everything I dreaded it might be. Polished, rehearsed, and utterly uninspiring. She talks about herself—the Pilates classes, the raw vegan cleanse, the Bali trip—all in a stream of shallow anecdotes that leave no room for real connection. Every question I ask feels like a lifeline she ignores, pulling the conversation back to her achievements, her curated life.

It’s unsettling how much she reminds me of Celeste. Even her voice has the same smooth, practiced lilt—except Celeste’s had an edge to it, a sharpened sweetness meant to disarm before she cut you down.

I try to stay engaged, to focus on why I’m here, but my thoughts keep wandering. With Cleopatra, the words don’t flow naturally. There’s no rhythm, no spark. By the time she asks if I’m all right, I realize I’ve spent more time thinking about Charleston than I have about the woman sitting on the other side of the wall from me.

The date drags, every second stretched too thin, until I finally find an opening to interject. “Cleopatra, would you mind if I stepped out for a visit to the restroom?”

Cleopatra hums in acknowledgment, the sound light and indifferent. “Of course, go ahead.”

She’s probably already preparing to launch into another story about herself upon my return—something to do with her latest fitness routine or the skincare regimen she swears by.

Once I’m free of the suite, I pause, scanning the hallway. My heart kicks up a notch, foolishly hoping for a glimpse of Charleston. I know I’m crossing a line—one I shouldn’t even be considering—but the pull is stronger than logic.

I glance left, then right. Nothing. Just the usual buzz of Soul Sync’s staff moving about, familiar faces from before.

The client experience specialist spots me and approaches with a courteous smile. “Is everything all right, Mr. Caesar?”

I shove my hands in my pockets, playing it off. “Yeah, just, uh… looking for the restroom.”

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