Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-one
CASSIDY
Travel-weary, Isaiah lies on his bed yawning. The palm of his right hand on the baby’s back rises and falls with Aria’s breathing.
“You had a good time?” I’ve questioned him a hundred times.
“I did. I really did. I missed this, though, and couldn’t wait to get back.” The added sentiment sounds as if he’d been in North Carolina more than an overnight.
I noticed Isaiah’s absence more than the baby had. Although since he returned, Aria has refused to let Isaiah put her down. Hours later, she’s finally sleeping, and the fact that we’re getting some quiet time together isn’t lost on either of us. We’re both quite content, lying here whispering, stealing kisses, and recalling bits and pieces of what’s gone on while we were apart.
I missed this, too. So much so that watching it come to an end feels like I’m cutting off my arm.
For the better part of the past three months, Isaiah has tried to keep multiple balls in the air. If he’s not focused on the tour, he’s given either Aria or me his full attention. During our nightly walks, he talks to me about how humbling his experiences over the holidays were when he realized he wasn’t fully present for this little girl.
Isaiah takes caring for Aria seriously. I think he’s connected with her, though oftentimes he is still trying to figure out his place in her life long term. The truth of the matter is, Aria will be nine months old soon. Isaiah may be the only father she’ll ever have.
He doesn’t utter a negative word against Aria’s mother in the baby’s presence. He rarely shares the pain of his wife’s betrayal in mine without holding himself accountable for his own misdeeds, and feeling like the part he played enabled her.
Isaiah is the most honest of any man I’ve been involved with. He wouldn’t act this way if he hadn’t loved Kylie in his own way. And he wears his love for her daughter on his shirtsleeve.
Given how content Isaiah was to hold Aria when his plane landed, and how hard it was for him to put her into her crib when she sobbed, overtired and clinging to his shirt, I don’t know how he’ll manage the tour without her.
When Isaiah took the chance to tell me about Aria, he opened up a floodgate of his hopes and fears. I’ve thought a lot about my own fears since Rhiannon accused me of not being able to understand Isaiah might love me. Perhaps at Christmastime I hadn’t wanted to talk about Isaiah leaving because my heart already knew it hadn’t wanted to be without him.
And maybe that’s why I went out on a limb when he stayed.
I’ve been using Isaiah’s opposite bicep as a pillow and sit up to hand him a square box I placed at the foot of the bed when we entered his suite.
“I bought these while you were away.”
Remaining prone, Isaiah accepts the gift. Over the top of the sleeping baby, he dexterously unwraps and unboxes pink noise canceling earphones. Chuckling, he attempts to put them over his ears.
“These might be a little small. Do you mind if I re-gift them to Aria?” He winks, knowing who the child size earphones are for.
I wink back. A pair of wings beat inside my chest. I’m curious if our gift-giving rituals are as peculiar as a celebrity getting involved with a cook is.
“I thought she might need them on the road,” I say.
“Thank you. I love them on her behalf.” He places them down on his bed.
I lie back down, rubbing my palm on his pec. Before I nestle in, he tips my chin, brushing his lips against mine.
We’ve kissed and gotten to second base downstairs. That’s hardly noteworthy considering what we did naked as jaybirds in December. Except, being horizontal with Isaiah is something I avoid. I couldn’t give that part of me to him anymore and continue a meaningless fling. I want him to have all of me now, though. It sounds silly to say—because Isaiah couldn’t just leave Aria at Kingsbrier forever—the final piece clicked when he came back from the trip and dropped his bags by the front door. Aria lunged for him and he dragged me along for the ride. When we’re together, I feel like the three of us are special.
“Have you decided if you’ll take Aria on tour?” I rub a gentle circle on her back.
Isaiah pushes his thumbs into his eye sockets. Every choice he makes about the baby weighs heavily on him. He struggles with this one. He needs to do right by Kylie by doing right by Aria. Giving the baby a semblance of a family while they stayed at Kingsbrier makes me respect him more. I would want my child loved the way Isaiah has grown to love Aria, and I wonder if the bond we’ve established is along the lines of what my dad felt for Gracyn when she was a little girl.
“Would it help if I came along?” I nudge the stiff silence. “I could cook and take care of Aria for you.”
Isaiah sits up, adjusting the baby in his arms. “I’m not sure I can let you do that.”
“What’s the alternative? You on the road, me here, and Aria back in an empty house in Nashville?” I kneel beside him.
“It means—”
“I know exactly what Vespa wants me to do. She wants me to pretend to be Aria’s mother to keep everyone from growing suspicious. And I know the first opportunity Vespa gets, she’ll throw me under the bus. The sole reason I put up with her bullshit is because her job is to make you smell like roses.” I pat his thigh. “But what I’m asking is if you want me there, and if you trust me outside of these four walls to safeguard your secret.”
“Of course I do,” he replies without hesitation, yet cautious to smile. Almost as if he’s concerned he’s not hearing me correctly. “I’m just surprised. You’ve insisted all along you belong at the estate. That you don’t need to leave to find your way back here. Joining me on tour isn’t like a camping trip over a long weekend. Why are you changing your mind?”
“Some things Rhiannon said got me thinking. Since I had the rug pulled out from under me at the banquet hall, I’ve stuck it out, cooking for smaller groups, and fine-tuning the cards from the recipe box. But maybe all that’s proven to my family is I set the bar low. That all I’ll ever be good at is washing muffin pans and julienning matchstick carrots as a garnish. I mean, I’ve been on vacation and eaten decadent food, but maybe I need to allow myself the luxury of being self-indulgent and travel someplace new. Maybe I’ll find a secret ingredient to add to one of Benita’s recipes.”
“Benita said the secret ingredient was love.”
“She did.”
“I think she was right and I love that you want to come along, chou. I sorta hoped Aria and me staying at the B&B would change your mind.”
“Good. Because for a second I thought maybe there was some other woman you wanted using that all-access backstage pass.”
My mock serious tone has Isaiah throwing back his head. “ Nah, there’s not.” A grin breaks out and his cheeks apple.
“It is still all-access, right?” I sass.
“Completely unrestricted.” He grips the back of my neck, drawing me toward him and leaning his forehead against mine.
“Are you sure about this, Cass? It’s a big ask of anyone to drop everything familiar to travel on a cramped bus for months. You’ve been here your whole life and I don’t want you to feel coerced into leaving.” He’s serious.
“I am sure. When I woke up today, I realized I can’t see tomorrow without either of you in it. I, ah, I think. No, I know I’m in l—” I stumble to get the words out.
Isaiah cuts me off with a toe curling kiss.
“I love you, Cassidy. I don’t think anyone could ever make me as happy as you do.”
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
The countdown is on and, at some point, I have to approach my sister-boss with the news. I put off asking her for a sabbatical as long as I can. Gracyn’s behind Gran’s desk when I enter her office.
“What do you mean you’re going on tour!” she yells.
My eyes widen, unsure if she’s upset with me or shocked.
“Isaiah’s personal chef bagged.” Another lie. This one he and I concocted. “If I go along, he can bring Aria because he’ll have an extra person around he trusts, and I’ll get experience as a celebrity chef.”
“But for how long?”
“ Uhm, I’ll be back at the end of the summer?” I shrink, full of contrition. I thought the length of time was assumed. Obvious. Tour season extends past Labor Day. “If you need my resignation—”
“I can see if Myrna will fill in temporarily. But Myrna won’t give up her retirement. You’ll be gone six or seven months. Have you thought this through? He’s—”
“Yeah, I get it. He’s Isaiah Roomer and I’m no one.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Mom and Dad are excited for me. You’re inconvenienced.”
“Vespa hates you.” As if needed the reminder.
“The feeling is mutual,” I reply confidently.
“Cass, I wish you’d reconsider. This isn’t one of Aunt Brier’s book club romances come to life. I don’t want you running home with your heart broken.”
I can read into what my older sister is saying. I’m a lowly breakfast chef and garde manger. I’m not good enough to take on the role of personal chef. My lack of experience with long-term relationships makes me na?ve.
Except, I’ve lain awake weighing my considerations. I’ve given everything to two family businesses to prove my value, and because of that, I rarely find anyone worth dating who will put up with my insane work schedule.
So, when an attractive man, who is interested in me, appears in my kitchen, why am I supposed to discount him? Because I’m not good enough for Isaiah Roomer? Because I’m stupid and he’s only out for one thing?
I hate to break it to my sister, but since Isaiah returned I’ve gone to bed alone at night. He hasn’t stuck around the ranch for sex or put the screws to me me for intimacy at all. In all honesty, Isaiah has expressed concern that I didn’t feel like he was coercing me into doing anything I didn’t want. But the idea of staying behind only explodes the lid on my pressure cooker. I need to let off steam. I need to go as much for me as to remain with Isaiah and Aria.
“This is one of Aunt Brier’s book club romances and, no matter how long it lasts, my heart is mine to decide who I let break it. Also,” I add on my way out, “I liked your advice better when you were the woman who took chances.”
The next week passes in a blur. Vespa alternates between keeping me out of “Isaiah’s business” and filling my inbox with schedules and bizarre requests for meals Isaiah would never eat. I’ve cooked for him for months and have his food preferences down pat. Whenever I think I have a handle on what my role is on tour, she adds more to my plate. We almost come to blows until Isaiah reminds Vespa that me posing as Aria’s mother was her brilliant idea, so sabotaging it isn’t in his assistant’s best interest.
About the time it feels like the whirlwind is settling, I’m on the tarmac waving goodbye to my parents, Rhiannon, and my niece. Emeran insisted she needed to see me off. My entire family believes my reason for leaving is simply me following my heart and that my feelings for Isaiah and Aria run deep. But the shades of truth knot my insides tighter than the seatbelt buckle at my waist.
At twenty-thousand feet, Aria is screeching and rubbing her ears. Unable to soothe her, I wonder how fast the ruse will end. I’m panicky and might have made a huge mistake.
“Don’t be upset. She cried like this the entire flight when Isaiah brought her to meet you,” Monty recalls. “The upside was she was out like a light once we touched down.”
He has on the same exact outfit as he did on New Year’s Day. Khaki pants and a black shirt are Monty’s go-to ensemble. Steve dresses the same. I thought it was odd until I stopped noticing they were there. The bodyguards blend into the background.
The chartered plane touches down a thousand miles from home. I was told the destination was where we’d meet the tour bus for the first night of the tour. I gather my purse, the diaper bag, and a much happier Aria, and step off the plane. A shiny black motor coach is there waiting for us.
“You look surprised.” An excited Isaiah tugs me toward the bus.
“It’s monstrous.” It really is longer and taller than what I anticipated.
“That’s what she said,” he replies cockily.
My feet still, and my eyes widen. I drop Isaiah’s hand, thinking better of it than when we disembarked. “Shh… They’ll hear you! What if they think we’re, you know… Involved.”
As ridiculous as it sounds, his wife hasn’t been dead a year. I don’t want anyone thinking less of Isaiah for moving on too soon.
Isaiah puts the toes of his shoes to mine. He dips his head, whispering against my cheek. “Chou, we’ve discussed this. We are involved and people will talk no matter how discreet we act. I’m only hiding one truth, and it’s not from you.”
“I love you,” I mouth.
Isaiah’s lip twitches. He winks and nods. I have faith he feels the same and I don’t need him to say it back. He’s said he loves me a thousand times. He’s shown me he appreciates me a million more.
He steps to the side, placing his hand at the small of my back, guiding me toward a man in a flannel shirt and jeans who stands outside of the bus. His hair is the same color as Isaiah’s but without the messy sex-appeal and his face is angular, though not unfriendly.
“Cassidy, this is Dillon. Dillon was Kylie’s driver and we’re glad to have him along.”
“Much obliged to ya, Isaiah.”
“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, man.”
“I turned down other offers.” Dillon gnaws a piece of gum.
“That’s what I heard. Well, I’ll intend on making it worth your while. Miss Cavanaugh here is an amazing cook, and I know for a fact she makes extra bacon at breakfast time.” Isaiah gives me a jovial yet weirdly professional side hug.
“Welcome aboard, ma’am. And to you too, little sweetheart. Do you have a name?”
“Aria,” Isaiah responds proudly, showing her affection.
Dillon shakes Aria’s hand. Her little legs and arms jostle with excitement. Drool from the fist she’s been chewing on smacks me in the jaw. We share a laugh at my expense.
“Your little girl is beautiful, Miss Cavanaugh… And I do like a good BLT sandwich,” Dillon says to me as an aside.
“Wonderful! Just let me know when you’re hungry. And please call me Cassidy,” I reply, trying to make a friend of Dillon before Vespa returns.