Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-five
ISAIAH
I fold the velcro strip over the front of the diaper, pat Aria’s belly, and work the snaps on the legs of her yellow jumpsuit with ruffles on the caps of the sleeves. She’s being good, lying still for me. My chin’s made more scuffs in her white toddler shoes than any tumble she’s taken.
It’s hard to believe I never changed a baby’s diaper before December thirty-first. Caring for this little girl has changed me.
During Aria’s naps, I lie beside her soaking her innocence in. She sleeps and I work through how neglecting her when she was a newborn affects me now.
God, I was such a shithead.
Afraid to break her tiny little body. Afraid she’d break me with her cries and send me into a tailspin while I struggled with depression.
I let the opportunity to bond with her earlier pass me by. I can’t recover the time I missed out on. I can’t recapture memories we never made.
I might’ve said the baby wasn’t mine to keep—and I might’ve even meant it at that point—but fuck biology. Deep down, I’m not ashamed I want my lawyers to dig up a reason Dillon shouldn’t have custody of his daughter. I’m only ashamed I let Aria down in her hour of need.
I’m a man of my word, swallowing my pride and doing what’s right for this child.
Meanwhile, I wonder if Kylie would’ve stuck to her guns and allowed Dillon to co-parent. Or if she’d have fallen off the wagon and reverted to being the woman who caused mayhem and pursued friendships and relationships with people who enabled her.
I guess we’ll never know.
“There we go,” I say, standing her up.
“Sa!” Aria claps.
I hold her by the middle as she bounces on chubby legs on the mattress. I wish I were like her and had no idea what was about to happen.
Cassidy picked out Aria’s outfit for her birthday celebration. The front has a big red and pink plaid number one embroidered on it. Twelve months of growing like weed, I doubt Aria will wear it again. I thought Cassidy deserved to see her in it. Tomorrow is Aria’s first birthday and by then it will be too late.
With her blonde hair swept into pigtails with two tiny bows, my little girl looks adorable.
I roll my thick tongue around in my mouth, sucking on my teeth to hold back my misery.
She presses a dwarfish finger to my tight lips, giggles, and lunges. Her arms wrap around my neck and my eyes water. I tuck my nose and take a steady inhale. Aria smells like baby powder and a hint of Cassidy’s elderberry lotion. The next time I ever get to hug her she won’t smell the same.
Why doesn’t anyone tell you how hard it is to give up on a dream when you really want to be selfish?
The three of us have been on an incredible journey that wasn’t supposed to end. I was all set to have the adoption papers drawn up. Instead, my legal team constructed a physical custody arrangement.
Dillon gets the kid to raise in Kylie’s house in California. As Kylie’s beneficiary, I retain control of the bulk of the trust I set up for Aria when she was born. I wasn’t ever letting whomever the baby’s father was have unconditional access to Kylie’s money. Not to mention, what drove the wedge between Kylie and her parents was control over her finances. Dillon didn’t argue when his lawyer told him he’d receive monthly payments to cover their expenses. It’s not chump change. Like me, Kylie negotiated licensing agreements. The yearly royalties on her music catalog alone mean Aria will never go without.
I lift us off the bed and walk toward the kitchen, chucking the diaper in the trash and slamming it shut harder than intended with my knee.
“Don’t you look pretty?” Rhiannon gushes, attempting to stay positive.
“In this old thing? I thought you wouldn’t notice,” I crack a lame joke about the worn jeans I have on.
Rhiannon releases a differential snort so my ego isn’t wounded anymore than it already is.
We’re doing all we can to ease the tension and failing miserably. The sad fact of the matter is, sometime later today, it will come to light that my wife was fucking me over for years. I thought I was stopping her from trampling on me when I asked for more time before the divorce. However, she’s continued to screw me from beyond the grave. After being labeled a recluse and the bullshit headlines that dragged Cassidy and me through the mud, hiding an illegitimate kid is another ding to my reputation.
Meanwhile, nobody speaks ill of the dead.
I’m pathetic for putting up with it for as long as I did. I’m pathetic for not creating the family I wanted sooner… and with someone else who truly cared about me.
Restless on the couch, Cassidy rearranges the hotel room service folio on the coffee table and then smooths the ruffles on her skirt. She’s stunning with her hair pulled up, wearing a casual yellow dress with a teensy floral print. The tone matches the baby’s romper. She had to have bought it for the same occasion.
Cassidy can’t quite meet my eyes and, if she could, hers would reflect the rawness I feel. She tackled planning Aria’s big day like any other mom would. Sugar and flour wait idle in the cabinets on the bus. Cassidy was supposed to bake a cake today.
Anguish seeped into my bones, making them so brittle I’m surprised I don’t collapse. Having her alongside me on the broken road is the only thing getting me through. Though it’s a good thing we’re not pretending anything’s amiss to an adult.
With the shit about to hit the fan, Cassidy called Colton and Keely so they wouldn’t worry when the press release was sent out. I sat next to her as she told them the truth of my circumstances, and that it was her idea to come on tour to stop Aria and me from getting separated. Her parents accepted her apology, which was a relief. But the bigger consolation was when Keely asked how Cassidy was doing and Cassidy broke down. When she finally composed herself, she told her mother she would do it all over again exactly the same way.
No mulligans. Cassidy’s been in this with me all along.
Later, while she spoke to Rhiannon, I dialed Colton myself and begged his forgiveness. We’d talked enough times during the road trip with Cassidy via FaceTime and him and me on the phone that I felt I had gained his approval and I didn’t want to lose it. I didn’t want his youngest daughter defending me from the press when I’d stayed mum, not defending her from the months of rumor and conjecture.
Before I could get the words out of my mouth, he said, “I understand things happen that I’m not meant to understand. And I understand fatherhood can bite you in the ass when you least expect it. We’ll see you when you get here. Travel safe.” And he left it at that.
“Okay, are you ready?” Rhiannon asks.
No. I think.
As solemn as the occasion is, Rhiannon brought her camera to take our last family picture. She’s decorated a blank wall with pink, red and yellow balloons. Those are the colors her cousin chose to go with. They reminded Cassidy of strawberries and bananas, the baby’s favorites.
I’m about to gesture for Cassidy to join us when my face crumples. Grief strikes at inopportune times and for the strangest reasons. Never mind the cakes this year or any other, I won’t watch Aria tear into a banana muffin and make that adorable little hum sound.
I curl into myself.
“Isaiah,” Cassidy rushes me.
“No. No.” I say when she latches onto the baby. “I’ve got her.”
Cassidy glances between me and the backdrop. “We don’t have a lot of time.” Her voice cracks.
Clutching Aria, I lean my forehead to hers.
She palms the nape of my neck, threading her fingers into my hair and hugging me as close as she can. “We can do this. We get this moment. It’s ours. No one can take it away from us.” She wipes my tears and in turn I wipe hers.
We stand in front of the balloons. Aria is on my hip between us. Rhiannon lifts the camera. Her shutter clicks, taking a few shots of Cassidy and me futzing over Aria. Rhiannon doesn’t ask us to smile. It’s pointless.
At the same time Cassidy kisses Aria’s left cheek, I kiss the baby’s right.
“That’s it, guys. That’s the picture. You’re done,” Rhiannon says.
The woman I love and I blink at one another, thinking the same thing.
It sounds so… Final.
“Was that enough?” Cassidy hovers while Rhiannon crouches to put her camera away in the bag and zips it up.
“I swear to you, Cass, that’s the picture you’ll want.” Rhiannon’s eyes water and she hugs her cousin.
I loop the diaper bag over my shoulder and open the door. Cassidy grabs her purse. Rhiannon her camera bag.
“What about the balloons?” Rhiannon asks.
“Leave them behind,” I say.
We don’t need them. The suite’s been swept of our belongings. Vespa supervised Aria’s things being stripped from the bus and taken to FedEx. I haven’t been on the bus since we got to Austin, and I’m not looking forward to boarding it again in Phoenix.
On the way downstairs, Cassidy and I wedge ourselves into the corner of the elevator. She touches Aria like she might break, hesitating to return our little girl’s silly smiles so that she doesn’t crack and overwhelm Aria.
Rhiannon takes a seat in the lobby. We round a corner and Steve is outside of the conference room. I give him Aria’s bag.
“Six months and I’ll have you back,” I remind him.
“I got it, boss. Just long enough to train the new guy.”
Steve is accompanying Dillon and Aria on the chartered plane that will get them to LA. The same pilot will fly back without him and wait on the tarmac for us, so we arrive on time at the next tour stop.
The road crew depends on me for their paychecks. I have to salvage the remainder of the season. I don’t currently give a damn about the upcoming concerts, and I don’t have long to change my attitude. So excuse me for not being hopeful that I will.
Monty exits the closed conference room.
“Is he gone?” I force the lump down my throat.
Part of the agreement Dillon and I came to includes Dillon making himself scarce. The exchange will happen with Cassidy and me out of sight. Someday we’ll find common ground, but I can’t stand to see his face and I won’t force Cassidy to watch Dillon walk out of the hotel holding onto the child that called her mama.
“Yeah, he signed. Hey, lil’ miss.” he bops Aria’s nose. “You be a good girl. Steve-O’s got Isaiah on speed dial and he’ll tattletale on you if you’re getting into any trouble.”
She blows a raspberry and giggles.
Vespa pushes her way out. She has her laptop case and is dragging a rolling suitcase. “Your lawyer’s ready for you.”
“Why are you going—”
My assistant cuts me off. “Witnessing this is another thing you don’t pay me enough for.” Vespa turns on her heel and flees.
Monty shakes with Steve. “I’m going to go check on the other Miss Cavanaugh… And maybe buy V a shot of Macallen at the hotel bar.” He shrugs, strolling off with his hands shoved in his pockets.
Monty doesn’t drink on duty or else I’d call after him to order one for himself and have him put them on my tab.
Vespa? I don’t hold it against her for making break for it. She’s got an iron will and she did everything I asked of her during the transition. But even strong people reach a tipping point. I hired her because I was certain she’d have my best interest at heart. I still believe she does, especially after Cassidy told me abut her breakdown.
Steve blends into the woodwork as Cassidy and I say our last goodbyes to Aria.
I hug the baby, choking on the words I’ve said to her millions of times and expected to say a million more. “I love you.”
When I let Aria go to Cassidy, she holds Aria tight to her chest, twisting back and forth, and cupping her head. Cassidy’s lip trembles and tears spill down her cheeks.
“We’re doing the right thing,” she says to me.
Then how come it feels so wrong?
Cassidy showers the baby with kisses, telling her how much she loves her. A fleeting moment later, she hands Aria off to Steve, aware I’m utterly incapable of doing so.
“Say ‘bye’.” He waves, pretending for her sake it’s like any other time we step away from our little girl.
Aria mimics his gesture. The way I taught her to, she puckers and blows Cass kisses. Aria doesn’t know we’re not coming back out to get her.
I place my hand on Cassidy’s back and we step inside. The room is empty but me, Cassidy, my lawyer, and an imposing stack of papers.
I take a seat at the conference table. Cassidy sits to my left, so close I feel her every exhale. The lawyer explains everything we’ve already gone over. Unfortunately, it’s still the same. The date and Dillon’s signature is on the line across from mine. He’s starting a new chapter and getting to celebrate his daughter’s first birthday with her.
I grip the pen, holding it in the air for a beat. Waiting for a sign.
Dear God, crack me over the head or do something!
If I hesitate much longer, I’ll tear this sheet in two. We’ll go to court. I can drag this out. But time has proven I’m a fool for love.
Scrawling Isaiah Roomer, I sign half of my heart away.