Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-one
CASSIDY
Inside the auditorium, the event manager hands us off to an usher, who shows us our seats. Second row, A and B.
Chris and Rhiannon have just taken their seats three rows behind. They’re at an angle from us, not quite in the middle. It’s still a prime vantage point to see everything on stage. Whenever Gatlin and Bellamy get here, they’ll sit next to them.
I wish we could all sit together, but Vespa forewarned me the event organizers tell the nominees, performers, and their dates where they’re sitting. Had they positioned Isaiah toward the middle, it would disturb the rest of the audience when he scoots backstage.
Vespa also mentioned the acts are somewhat of a popularity contest. County music fans vote on the awards, but the network producers booked the evening’s entertainment based on ratings for their streaming content during the previous year before announcing the category nominees.
Since Isaiah’s tragedy was headline news, of course the algorithm decided he was enticing to their audience. Intellectually, I understand data science. I also know public appearances are important to keep up the momentum of the tour and for Isaiah’s career. However, I’m choking on the dreadful feeling the television producers will pan to us and catch me with an unguarded expression that winds up feeding the rumors mill to sell cheap magazines at the supermarket checkout next week.
Isaiah greets the flawless female country singer seated beside him. He and Piper Alivia kiss on both cheeks and Isaiah shakes the hand of her not-quite-as-famous husband, Adriel, with a jovial “Been too long.”
We take our seats as he introduces me to the couple. It’s informal and friendly. Like Piper and I have traded our makeup artist for a simple swipe of Great Lash, the men their tuxedos for clean blue jeans, and we’re about to order Oreo shakes at Applebees.
In reality, Piper’s singing career took off when she won the grand-prize on a TV talent search. Not for even close to the first time, she’s up for artist of the year.
We’re seated in the same row because Piper and Isaiah are sharing a top video collaboration award nomination for a duet that entered the charts last spring as well. It seems like eons ago. At that point, Isaiah and I hadn’t even met. I vaguely remember the hearsay over a feud between Adriel and Isaiah and speculation about Isaiah and Piper being romantically linked.
Something that, given what I know about Isaiah’s behavior in public with women and Adriel’s affability toward Isaiah, is absolute hogwash.
Waiting for the MC and the show to start, Isaiah points out a few people in the audience. Bellamy finger waves to me when she and Gatlin arrive in the auditorium. She doesn’t have a hair out of place, so I’m going to keep pretending I haven’t heard about their extra-curricular activities.
Piper leans across Isaiah and places her palm on my thigh to get my attention. “Do you love the kitchen on the bus? If you don’t, it’s because he didn’t listen to me.” She rolls her eyes at my boyfriend. “If you need any tips on traveling with toddlers, I got you, girl. Give her my number, Roomer.” She elbows Isaiah and gestures for me to call her.
I clop my jaw into place. “Thank you!”
It’s not weird to me Piper Adriel wants to share parenting advice. When a mom has a solution, she broadcasts it. I do the same now whenever I speak to my cousins who are mothers. What struck me was Piper knew Isaiah spared no expense getting my workspace right. He asked her opinion when outfitting the bus for me and for the baby.
I tip my forehead toward Isaiah. “She’s nice.”
“They’re good people. We hung around after shooting the video, but I didn’t spend much time with them the rest of the year.” I read between the lines. Being close to the couple had to have highlighted the shortcomings in his relationship and made Isaiah feel worse. “We should arrange for them to visit this fall,” he says as the lights dim.
Everyone claps as the show begins. The massive screens on either side of the stage remind me of the ones at the concert venues. We’re in no less than three wide shots and a close-up when the MC makes Piper and Adriel the butt of a joke during the opening monologue. The first winner rises from their seat at the far end of our row and I’m glad to give my cheeks a rest when they accept their award.
Each time a singer or musician leaves to go backstage or returns from presenting or performing, it’s a stealth and coordinated series of events I hadn’t considered while watching an awards show on TV.
At a commercial break, Isaiah shimmies past me and another black-clad member of the event staff escorts him backstage. My Uncle Cris replaces Isaiah, and an audience extra takes my uncle’s spot next to Rhiannon.
“How are you holding up, Cass?” Uncle Cris asks.
I look down and he’s got a hand pressed to my knee.
“Thank you,” I sigh. Unbeknownst, I was bouncing the surrounding chairs. “I’ll be okay… When it’s all over.”
“Of course you will. No matter what happens tonight.” He refers to the amount of attention Isaiah and I receive when we’re in public. “I know it takes some getting used to when people on the street recognize you. But you’re fine now, too. You’re humble, sweetheart. You have a level of humility like your Aunt Daveigh and remind me a bit of Pepper,” he says of his accident prone daughter-in-law.
The comparison to Pepper gives me pause. My eldest cousin’s wife once believed the solution to her troubles was blending into the woodwork.
Awareness slithers up my spine as I parse the innocuous meaning behind Uncle Cris’s comment. He wouldn’t throw his attempt to calm my nerves into reverse by uttering something offensive.
But is that what I’ve been doing? Accepting less because I hadn’t believed I was worthy of more?
I accepted the bed-and-breakfast job when it felt like I was getting the cook position by default because there was nothing else my family would do for me. I didn’t throw the drink at Rude Rudy. I staunchly refused helping with anything related to my job during the holiday gathering. I agonized over Isaiah leaving and, even when he quickly returned—with an apology, an explanation, and saying he trusted me when his trust had been grievously broken—I hadn’t believed he was serious about a long-term relationship with me.
As much as I love Isaiah and adore Aria, somewhere deep down, I think I might have offered to pose as the baby’s mother for less than altruistic reasons. They are the best things that have ever happened to me. If I hadn’t held on to them tightly, they would’ve left me behind… And I had tired of being cast off.
Not only by the guys I dated, but by the people I trusted.
People like my uncle, though he has such sweet words for me right now. And my sister, though she was never bossy or unkind to me until I allowed Isaiah to go into the attic.
Maybe the longer I stayed at Kingsbrier, the more I felt… Taken for granted? And that feeling cuts deep. It makes you stop putting yourself out there so you won’t get trampled on when it seems like no one appreciates you.
The life I have now is fuller than I ever expected. Although, it has more to do with having a partner than what that partner does for a living.
It goes a long way to helping me understand that no matter what happened in the past, I can only change my perspective from this moment forward. Which means I need to act like an adult and accept responsibility for the direction my life was going in, instead of placing the blame on others.
I haven’t endured half the hardship Isaiah has and he’s able to look toward the future. A future he wants me to be a part of.
Me.
Cassidy Cavanaugh.
The house lights dim and Isaiah’s silhouette appears backlit on the stage. In the darkness, he reaches for the mic and sings the last lines of the ballad that topped the charts in December a cappella, followed by the first lines of “Lead Us Home”. The mash-up is hauntingly beautiful.
The auditorium is silent. However, there’s a buzzing between my ears. I understand the statement he’s making by beginning to sing while standing in the shadows.
Kylie’s his past. Not only is she not coming back, Isaiah is showing everyone that he’s moved on.
The drum beats. The guitars play. The stage lights ignite. And that’s when I see him.
He’s changed out of his tux and into his boots, jeans, tee, and a button up. Everything he wears every day is part of his stage costume. Yet, dressed down, he looks more like the relaxed guy I fell in love with than he did just a few minutes ago.
Isaiah sings for the audience, filled with his industry friends and powerhouse executives, and to his rabid fans watching on their couches. He uses his lyrics to prove to them that I’m here tonight because I’m his present.
Hold onto my hand. Let’s see where this takes us.
Let me give you my heart. I think love can lead us home.
I want the man who has faith in me as my future.
I want a man who refuses to speak ill of his former wife around her child because Aria deserves to hear his memories of her mother that aren’t humiliating to either of them. Isaiah is choosing to elevate who Aria is, who she can become, and to teach her about boundaries and self respect so she can grow up happy and healthy.
I want to be there for it. All of it. The good and the bad. Isaiah is the kind of man I want to live the rest of my life alongside and to raise children with.
Don’t let go of my hand. I know we can make it.
You have my whole heart. Love has led me home.
When Isaiah finishes the ballad, he’s staring at me with adoration. In this moment, the one thing I know for certain is that Kingsbrier isn’t my home anymore… He is.
Isaiah’s optimism, and his faith in my abilities, haven’t wavered since he brought me into his circle. He trusts me with the most precious parts of his life; his heart and the little girl we are raising together.
I don’t feel lucky that a celebrity chose me. I feel blessed that, when I least expected it, my path crossed with someone who has such a big heart and so much love to share.
The cameras stay steady on Isaiah as the audience rises to applaud. If I could bound up the stairs to the stage and throw myself into his arms, I would.
The next time Isaiah brings up getting married, I’m not shying away from the conversation. I want to marry him. I want to be in the audience clapping for him the way he clapped for me by telling the reporters I was an excellent chef. I want to show him I am the person he’s proud of. Not just for him, but for me.
It’s close to impossible to sit still until the commercial break, but I refrain from bouncing the row of chairs while I wait.
I want to tell Isaiah everything I’m thinking when he comes back, though I don’t know when the opportunity will present itself. We have a busy night after this. Maybe after the party tonight, when we go back to the suite and we’ve made love.
Isaiah has his nose glued to his phone when he returns. He looks up from studying the screen long enough to shake hands with my uncle and accept Cris’s accolades as they switch places.
“Anything important?” I ask.
My elation has turned to concern about the baby.
Isaiah stuffs his cell in his coat breast pocket as the next presenter walks to the podium.
“Will needs to know if you have representation. He’s offering to set you up if you don’t,” he whispers in my ear.
My brow arches in confusion. “Why would I need a manager?” I whisper back.
Isaiah turns his face to me fully, hitting me with a devilish grin, and keeping his voice low “Because every network morning show is asking for you to fill a slot and spotlight your baking. The Cooking Station wants an interview with a demo, and the southern home magazine is interested in a spread of you at home in the kitchen… Hmm. That’ll be hard. We don’t have a house, and the only person you’re spreading anything for in the kitchen is me.” He shoots me a dirty wink.
“We have a bus?” My shoulders hitch.
I’m hesitant, yet hopeful. I know I can do this.
The diamonds dangling from my earlobes brush against my bare skin and it feels like an eternity before Isaiah speaks, though it’s hardly a fraction of a second.
“Chou, you want this and I’ll make it happen. Just say the word.”