Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-seven
ISAIAH
The baby fell asleep on the last leg of the trip to Nashville. Cassidy’s been snuggling her as I show her around my house. She hadn’t said much, touring downstairs. I broke the ice, pointing out the microwave in the kitchen and, in Cassidy fashion, she poked fun at me and offered instructions on how to boil water on the eight burner convection stove. Although I didn’t pick out an appliance, cabinet, countertop, or pan, my chest puffed out at how impressed she was that my kitchen rivaled the one at the B&B. She seemed interested in having a large space to spread out and cook while we’re here.
As we rolled up the stairs, she became quieter. I noticed months ago she withdraws into herself whenever anything weighs heavily on her. She says it has nothing to do with attending the awards show and I believe her. Cassidy sounded excited that Gatlin and Bellamy would be in attendance and I overheard her discussing her gown with Rhiannon. I need to remember whatever’s on Cassidy’s mind, I can’t judge. She isn’t reacting differently from the way I behaved while I was grieving. What I can do is give her space and remind her my steady shoulder is ready for her to lean on.
Upstairs, I guide Cassidy down the long hall to Aria’s nursery. A maid service dusted and cleaned in preparation for our visit. Cassidy places Aria in the crib to finish her nap. I switch on the monitor and check that the feed is streaming to my cell while Cass takes in the lack of childlike decor. This was a guest room. All I’d done to prepare for Aria’s homecoming was have the adult size furniture moved out and a crib and changing table moved in. There’s a rocker in the corner. However, the nursemaid who broke her elbow requested that, and Vespa ordered it for her.
“It’s not much,” I whisper.
No matter how honest our relationship is, no matter how many times I was upfront about my mental health and how my marriage failed, I’m embarrassed to reveal to Cassidy how empty my life was and how much distance I put between myself and the baby because I expected someone to claim her. Not just emotionally. Aria’s nursery is the furthest from mine.
“This is more than she has on the bus.” Cassidy tries to brighten my mood.
“She has toys on the bus,” I reply, swiping my thumb over my chin.
Cassidy’s cheek pulls to the side. She’s not disagreeing.
The nursery is bigger than the three-hundred and fifty square feet the three of us occupy on the tour bus. For the lack of space, something of Aria’s covers every square inch. Simply walking on board announces “we have a kid.” This is sterile. Staged. Aria’s hospital room with bear and balloon murals had more personality.
Cassidy opens the closet. Outgrown footed sleepers and nondescript baby blankets line the shelves. On the bus, Aria has clothes Cassidy has picked out and her favorite dog with the mauled ear she munches on whenever she’s hungry. Whenever we take a side trip anywhere, we wind up buying the baby something, even if it’s an apple for her lunch.
What Aria has here versus what we’ve gotten for her since Christmas makes it obvious I was a poor excuse for a guardian. I wasn’t going to stock the nursery and pretend. The baby has everything she needs now, and I’m ready to leave this chapter behind. Except, what makes Cassidy seeing how depressed I was harder for me is the change in her lately. The closer we’ve gotten to this stop-over, the more anxious she’s been.
I have to admit I’m uneasy, too. I need to talk with her. I don’t plan to keep this house. Using it as a base of operations for the Tennessee shows and vocal rest made sense on paper. In practice? As soon as we walked through the front door, my skeletons began dancing circles around us. I had a lousy marriage. I wasn’t a great husband. I got an F parenting a newborn.
I love Cassidy and I want her to know I’ll do better for her. Always.
“Why don’t we let Aria sleep?” Cassidy pads toward the hallway.
I follow. At the next room, I twist the knob, pushing the door open. There’s a private bath and a king-size bed. The bags we packed with the things we needed from the bus are near the dresser. Monty moved our luggage inside before he and Steve retired to the gatehouse. I appreciate them giving us privacy to settle in.
“I thought we’d sleep here to be closer to her.” Aria’s nurse stayed in this room.
Cassidy’s mouth forms an “O”. She tries to wipe the shocked expression off her face. Spine slumped, she looks at the plush carpeting.
“Is that okay?” I’ve disappointed her.
“Yes. It’s fine,” she says, but I don’t believe it.
I take Cassidy’s hand. We exit the guest room and I pull her down the hall. We pass another empty room, the guest room Vespa prefers, and an office slash trophy room I’ve never used other than to pose in for a southern homes magazine layout and interview the year I bought the place. The hinges squeak on the door to the second master bedroom when I throw it open. Sun streams in the open shades and dust motes scatter in the stale air.
I stay in the hall, allowing Cassidy to peer in.
“This was Kylie’s space. I haven’t cleaned it. I haven’t been inside since she died. It’s not a shrine. I just didn’t have it in me to see what other secrets she was hiding, so I sealed it off until I made peace with going through her things.” I did the same with her home in California.
Cassidy’s feet don’t move. She sinks her top teeth into her lower lip.
I tug her a few feet further, open the last door, and walk into the primary master bedroom. It’s a mirror image layout to Kylie’s with an adjoining door near the massive walk-in closet.
From the dark hardwood covered by a soft area rug under the California King to the artwork on the walls, I chose everything in this room. I chose what I let in as well. Unfortunately, it was a lot of dark times and darker emotions. Experiences that made me the man I am today, but that I want to remain in my past.
I stand toe to toe with Cassidy in the center of the floor. “This is my room. It isn’t that I don’t want you in here… No, that’s not right. Because as much as Kylie and I had our separate spaces when she visited this house, I don’t want you obligated to sleep in here. I don’t want to make love to you and have your mind spinning on whether it’s a bed I had sex with my wife on. You deserve better. I don’t want her ghost imposing on us any more than she does. I want you to understand you’re not a replacement for Kylie. She was the place filler until I met you. There’s no competing. You’re the person I want. The life we’re building is the one I want.”
Hell, I’d call Colton in a heartbeat if I wasn’t so goddamned concerned he wouldn’t take me seriously. I’ve only known his daughter since the winter. I’ve asked her to leave her job. Removed her from her home. Made her responsible for raising a child. Allowed the press to vilify her. At some point, Cassidy’s father will ask me how much of her self-respect I intend to take from his daughter. I need his approval. I need him to see I’m worthy of Cassidy and can give more than I take.
Cassidy remains silent.
“Talk to me, chou. We can sleep in this room if you want.”
“No.”
Still clutching my hand, she steps toward the bed and sits on the edge of the mattress as if it has teeth and could bite.
It’s brave of her.
“Are you okay?” I move our locked fists to my lap. “You’re so quiet lately.”
“I’m helping you raise Kylie’s daughter. Each morning is like a bandaid getting ripped off. Being here must be—”
“It’s hard. But you’re wrong. Our every day is a silver lining. I wake up feeling like a kid at Christmas, ready to rush down the stairs to see what’s waiting for us.
The fleeting smile Cassidy graces me with fills the empty well inside my soul.
“I want to make you as happy as you make me. I’m sorry I brought us here. I can call Vespa and see if she can find us a rental.” I push to stand.
“No,” she says again, holding me back. She cups my cheek, rubbing her fingers softly against my whiskers. “I’ve been curious about where you lived and what your life was like since we met.”
“The me before you wasn’t as great as anyone has read about.”
Cassidy huffs a small laugh. She leans her forehead against mine. “I’m not afraid of your past. I’m not afraid of the memories in the empty room next door.”
“Then what is it that has you tied up in knots?”
“Do you think Kylie had more secrets than Aria?”
If she was having someone else’s child, I can’t discount it. “Why?”
Cassidy sighs.
“Cass? Don’t clam up on me. There’s nothing you can say I haven’t thought of.”
“Ben.”
I close my eyes. “I crossed his name off the list at her funeral.” Was I mistaken?
“I could be so far off the mark.” Cassidy backpedals. “He said some things to me I haven’t been able to forget.”
“Like what?”
“That Kylie didn’t take her vows as seriously as you did.”
“The baby is proof of that,” I deadpan. “Is that the only thing bothering you? What about the reporters?”
“The rumors are definitely more than what I was used to in a small town, but I’m growing used to ignoring our faces splashed on TV and the tabloids. With Ben? It never seemed like the right time and I didn’t want to hurt you by bringing it up. We feel so far away from whatever this is. I don’t want to sound like a jealous girlfriend, but when Kylie butts in, it’s surreal.”
“It is. We are.” I press my lips to hers in a chaste kiss.
“What about Ben?” she asks. “How do you broach that?”
Is it even a discussion worth having? “I can accept that Kylie and Ben slept together. But I’m unsure he’s Aria’s father. He strikes me as a man who’d claim a child if he thought there was a possibility it was his, especially if doing so advanced his career.” Like my mom pushes Ezra to be like me, Ben would make a fortune managing the career of Kylie Montagne 2.0. Though I’m not expressing it aloud, I’m protecting Aria from a father whose sole purpose in gaining custody is how Kylie’s talent and her fortune benefits them.