Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
CASSIDY
It’s a hard-fought battle—mostly because Isaiah kisses me and we’re both aware of where is apt to lead—but I keep my head on straight and convince him to leave the bedroom.
The desserts are cold, so we bring the basket downstairs. Isaiah works his culinary magic, pressing the thirty-second button on the microwave. He won’t let me help and is sort of adorable standing guard with his tongue peeking out, waiting to tap stop before the pastry gets too hot.
It makes me want to break my no cooking during vacation rule and show him how… Maybe because his current look of concentration is similar to the expression he wears when he’s trying to get me off, and Isaiah pushing my buttons brings me immense joy.
That’s what the season is all about, right?
Okay, and making room at the inn for the baby. I didn’t forget that. But can’t I have my cake and eat it too?
After lots of gazing at one another across the kitchen table, sticky finger licking, and innuendo, we finish eating.
Even though Isaiah got a bird’s-eye view from my bathroom window, he wants to see how far the grape vine trellis on the main estate reaches. We agree that fresh air is in order and take advantage of the flicker of sunlight left before nightfall and zig-zag the property holding hands.
At the edge of the winery, we enter the woods. Our boots kick the freshly fallen leaves. They rain down like snowflakes the way they had when I played amongst the trees with Rhiannon, Gatlin, and my other cousins as kids. Coming to another clearing, Isaiah comments on the similarities between my Uncle Eric’s house and the Tudor mansion.
These landmarks are part of my universe. I enjoy showing Isaiah how each dwelling and the other buildings at Kingsbrier are little galaxies unto themselves. I like bringing Isaiah further into the little microcosm that’s my world. He shows genuine interest in my silly stories, soaking in the outlandish anecdotes locals share about everyone from my grandparents to my dad and his siblings when they were young.
“The gossip doesn’t bother you?” He rubs his chin.
“You know the saying that truth can be stranger than fiction?” I shrug. “I learned to filter a lot out. Jealousy spreads gossip faster than butter melts. The rest… Well, you can’t make someone understand things they haven’t experienced for themselves, can you? I know you and Gracyn got off on the wrong foot, and then you had a front-row seat for the three of us squabbling like teenage girls. But she’s my sister. We don’t always get along, except I don’t think there’s anything Gracyn could do to make me or Rhiannon hate her. She was our absolute idol when we were young, and rumors were just as prevalent about how much trouble she got into. Those were the kinds of things worth listening to.”
“To defend her.”
“Hell, no. To learn her shifty ways so we could do the same things and not get caught.” I cast him a wicked grin.
Isaiah belly laughs. “You’re charming, you know that? Honest. It’s a good quality.”
“Thank you. I have nothing to hide. So, I guess that makes it easier?”
His lips twist, and he shuffles backward. At the same time, his phone dings with an incoming message. Almost thankful for the distraction, he checks it.
The skittering up my sides that happens whenever he touches me morphs from anticipation to anxiety. Although the pulse of nerves is short-lived when he flashes a coy smile and slips his hand back into mine.
“We need to get a move on. The package I’m expecting will be here soon and it needs a signature. There’s also that last box that we have to find a way of getting out of the attic. Come on, you can tell me more along the way.”
I let it slide that Gracyn instructed me in no uncertain terms that, unless I have a death wish or want to jeopardize my job, the box stays right where it is.
Her point is valid. We don’t know if it is safe. She needs to contact this insurance company, and it’s her responsibility to let the estate trust know what’s happened.
My reason for not going back up there is different. My heart got caught in my throat when Isaiah fell. I’m not ready to lose him.
Snaking a path alongside of the pond that he hasn’t walked yet, Isaiah continues asking me random questions about growing up here, the change of seasons, and how busy the winery is around harvest. The prouder I am of my heritage and showing him where I come from, the more Isaiah opens up about himself.
I’ve learned Isaiah was an only child until his mom remarried and his step brother came along. He prefers brief chats with his mother because she goes on tangents about the entertainment industry. Her endgame is for both her sons to be famous and she would love nothing more than for Isaiah’s brother to ride his coattails.
Like most teenagers, his brother Ezra communicates with him via random memes. He hears from him all at once or not at all. Isaiah says Ezra’s a good kid. He just has his own dreams that don’t include acting or singing and got stuck with a mom who wanted to be a starlet and wasn’t.
Impressed by my and Rhiannon’s antics, Isaiah also tells me about practical jokes the cast played on the set of the show he appeared on as a teen. He doesn’t seem to suffer talking about Kylie as his friend when they were younger. That he enjoyed singing on the show more than acting. Or how their stars rose before his twentieth birthday.
He doesn’t mention them linked romantically or allude to their marriage, which I suppose is comforting in a way. The comparisons about why Isaiah wouldn’t prefer a star like Kylie Montagne over Cassidy Cavanaugh are hard to stop.
It’s also strange because Isaiah is the first man I’ve dated—does one date with another to come qualify as dating?—whose ex couldn’t come out of the woodwork.
He hasn’t been seeing anyone since Kylie died, and I don’t think it is overly idealistic to say Isaiah gives off a vibe that he’s been working on whatever healing he’s needed to do.
Rhiannon’s the closest person to me who has ever loved and lost someone special to them. I don’t think it’s something you ever get over. All you can do is put one foot in front of the other and try to heal your broken heart the best you can. If Isaiah isn’t over his wife, then I stand no chance. Nobody would. You can’t exactly compete with a ghost.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
I wake on Christmas Eve the same way I fell asleep—wrapped in Isaiah’s arms. He flicks off the television that’s been playing on low throughout the night and decides to make us coffee.
“After all,” he says. “I’ve learned my way around your kitchen nearly as fast as I’m learning my way around your body.”
His hand lifts, batting the pillow I toss at him to the floor. Then he leans over the bed, using his body to cage me in, and plants a kiss on my lips before leaving the room.
When Isaiah received the envelope he was expecting and the darkness settled over the estate, he used my words against me. No sex. Yet for the number of times we started making out, and pulled ourselves back from the brink, I think watching the movie we chose was as much of a challenge for him as it was for me…
Or maybe it’s blind hope trying to convince me Isaiah wants to prove there’s an actual foundation for a relationship between us other than the physical. I have this insane little glimmer Isaiah’s decision to stay this week means whatever chemistry we have is more than a celebrity tryst.
All I’m sure is whenever he kisses me, my toes curl and my thighs clench. And whether it is before or after our lips meet, I’m floating a few feet off the ground. Which is odd because I’ve always enjoyed the tight cocoon of my blankets. But even now, with him doing the mundane by pouring our coffees, I feel as if I’m hovering over the mattress instead of lying in my bed.
I languish in bed without time to miss Isaiah when he returns with a tray loaded with two mugs, cream, sugar, and a spoon to stir.
“That was fast.” I sit up, reaching for my fuckoffee cup.
“I’d love to take credit, but Rhiannon made it.”
“Rhi?” I sit straight up, peering at the clock. We slept later than I thought.
“She’s in the kitchen with your mom. I got to meet Dr. Cavanaugh as well. She said my back was nothing to worry about, but advised me to keep my appointment.” Isaiah sucks on his tooth. I notice gooseflesh on his torso. “Another man with dark hair yelled that he was hauling the last box down from the attic.” If Aunt Temple and Rhiannon are here, that’s my Uncle Adam. “On my way back up the stairs behind the guy, I heard voices coming from the front yard. Your dad’s, sister’s, and kids’. Lots of kids. Young ones.”
He looks at his bare chest. An intense red flush streaks from his shoulders, heating his ears.
My snort is ineffective. I burst out into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. The coffee splashes over the side of the mug and Isaiah has to remove it from my grip.
“Cassidy! Stop laughing. I’m walking around in pajama pants and no shirt on.” His thumb rubs his chin, pensively.
“ Aw, it didn’t seem to bother you when it was just me.”
“That’s because it was just you. I like your eyes on me.” He growls, pinning me down, rubbing his nose along my neck, inciting another round of laughter. “You could’ve warned me. Your father is down there. He could have seen me walking back into your room. What sort of man will he think I am?”
His last sentence stifles my snickering.
“Why does it matter?” I ask in a whisper.
Isaiah pushes a tendril off of my face, looking me in the eye. “Because I like you and I don’t want anyone to think less of you for something else I did wrong.”
A blush creeps into my cheeks. It’s a really sweet thing to say.
I’m also excited that my family is here for Christmas Eve. My parents and Rhiannon’s help one another the years they’re in charge of putting up the Christmas tree. Like most activities at Kingsbrier, the more the merrier. What makes the situation unique is Mama and Daddy share grandkids with Aunt Temple and Uncle Adam. Neither side wants to miss out on seeing the grandkids take part in our traditions. That includes me.
But there’s a lot more that goes on at Kingsbrier then decorating a tree, and this year has the unexpected twist of me having someone special to share it with.
Isaiah and I sip our coffees while getting ready. As we’re about to head downstairs, my phone lights up.
Rhi: Doctor is here. Sending him up to Isaiah’s suite.
I show Isaiah the message.
“Need company?” I offer, feeling protective.
“It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. Go spend time with your family.” He kisses my forehead.
We part ways in the hall, and Rhiannon greets me at the bottom of the stairs. A silver tinsel boa around her neck accompanies her camera.
“Sorry. I didn’t have his digits.” Rhiannon apologizes for texting me instead of Isaiah. “Maybe this will make up for it?” She holds the handles of a gift bag with a hooked finger. It sways between us. “But!” she cautions as I reach out. “Full disclosure: I got it when I didn’t know that Isaiah was staying.”
I squeal when I see what she’s bought. “Ohmigoodness! This is hysterical. And perfect!”
I roll the gift back up, put it in the bag, and stick the bag inside a nearby drawer. “We’re just going to keep it away from prying eyes.”
“Why? After the show Isaiah put on this morning, I think we’ve all had a look at the goods.”
“No. You haven’t.” I smirk.
“I am holding it together by not asking. But when he’s gone, Cass. When. He’s. Gone.” The second pea in my pod gives me ample warning she won’t wait forever for details.
I’d like to believe my bestie and I share everything. Though, I abruptly become possessive of my personal life. I want to keep the memories I’m making with Isaiah hidden. And that feels significant.