5. Cassie
CASSIE
I burn the muffins. Again. Ina Garten would slap me with a spatula right now.
Third batch today, and I swear to God, the oven’s mocking me. The smell of charred chocolate wafts through Honey he’s fucking staying.
Putting down roots and shit.
I’m spiraling, and Tina’s not helping. My phone keeps vibrating across the counter like it’s possessed.
Tina: BBQ. Noon. Don’t flake. I’ll drag you out by your hair.
Tina: Wear the white dress. Or shorts. Just show up.
I groan, forehead hitting the cool countertop. I should say no. I should absolutely say one-hundred percent, fake-a-sickness, no.
I glance at Aria with her pretty sunshine curls and cute little dimpled smile. But it’s the eyes that betray my secret. Storm-blue. Sharp as hell. Just like his.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening around the truth I’ve been dodging for three years. Hiding only works for so long. Dante’s back. He’ll see her eventually.
God willing, he won’t care enough to look twice. Won’t care enough to pay attention to some kid, for if he does, I fear what he’ll see staring him dead in the eyes. I just need to fly under the radar. One BBQ. One afternoon. Keep it casual, keep my distance, and pray he doesn’t connect the dots.
Because if he does…
Yeah, we’re screwed.
I have to go. I know that much. Hiding only makes it worse. Makes it obvious. Makes Tina suspicious, and Dante… he’ll think he got under my skin. Might come knocking for answers I don’t want to give.
Tina: Whatever you wear, make sure it’s cute! Hot single guy alert. A friend of my cousin’s.
Tina: Stop ignoring me, bitch. I can see you read these.
I cave. What other choice do I have? Besides, Aria’s been talking about this for days now.
Me: Fine. We’ll be there. Don’t make me regret it.
“Who’s that?” Aria asks, her small fingers covered in batter as she “helps” stir.
“Just Aunt Tina being Aunt Tina.”
“I love Aunt Tina,” she says with absolute conviction. “She gives candy all the time.”
“Oh really?” I raise an eyebrow. “Sounds like Aunt Tina and I need to talk.”
Aria giggles, caught in her accidental tattling.
Tina: YAAAAS QUEEN!!! If you don’t like the white dress, put on the blue one. The one that makes your boobs look amazing.
I roll my eyes and set the phone down. “Aria, baby, we’re going home now. Have to get you all dolled up for the party.”
She looks up, clapping her hands with a childlike joy that makes her whole body shake, her face beaming like the sun itself. “Party! Party! Party!”
For a brief moment, I feel content. This party? I was going for her, anyway. And if it brings her such joy, it’s worth all the pain in the world.
I lock down the bakery, leaving a sign that we’re closed for the rest of the day.
I planned on taking some muffins to Tina’s, but since Aria insisted on ‘helping,’ they didn’t turn out the way I expected.
A bottle of wine will do just fine. I grab Aria in my arms and put her into her seat so we can get home and get dressed for this social experiment of a party.
By eleven AM, my bedroom looks like Macy’s exploded. Clothes everywhere. Dresses I forgot I owned. Jeans in various states of wear. Tops that seemed like a good idea in the store but have never actually left my closet.
“Not trying too hard” is the goal. I want to be casual and breezy, like second thoughts are for women who have too much time on their hands.
Like, I don’t care that I’m about to face the man who’s haunted my thoughts ever since we conceived a child together.
“Too fancy,” I mutter, tossing aside a maxi dress. “Too desperate,” goes the low-cut blouse. “Too ‘I’ve given up on life,’“”for the mom jeans.
Aria sits on my bed, legs swinging, watching this fashion crisis with patient bemusement.
“I like the blue one,” she offers, pointing to a sundress crumpled on the floor—the one Tina mentioned.
I shake my head.
Too obvious. I’m going for ‘I accidentally look this good,’ even if I won’t admit it.
“How ‘bout that?” She points to denim cutoffs I haven’t worn since before she was born.
I hold them up. They’re faded in all the right places, hitting that sweet spot between “mom appropriate” and “I still have legs, thank you very much.”
“Not bad, kid.” I dig through the pile again, unearthing a crisp white button-down. Simple. Classic. With the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone? Perfect.
I try it on and check the mirror. It works. I look like I just threw this on without thinking, when in reality, it took twelve outfit changes and the help of a three-year-old.
“You’re pretty, Mommy,” Aria says, now digging through my makeup bag like it’s buried treasure.
“And you’re a mess waiting to happen,” I laugh, rescuing a tube of red lipstick from her grasp. “Let’s get you dressed, too, nugget.”
“Can I do lipstick?” she asks, refusing to budge.
“Not today, baby.” I brush my hands through her hair.
“When I’m really old like you?”
“Ouch,” I protest, clutching my chest dramatically.
“You’re like… old.” She looks at me like I’d better get in touch with reality.
“Okay. When you’re really old,” I say, knowing I’m not winning this round.
I wrangle her into a yellow sundress with daisies. She fights me the whole damn time—kicking, pouting, acting like I’m dressing her for prison. Typical. She’s been begging to go all morning, but outfit drama is law around here.
At last, I manage to get the now excited again Aria and still terrified me into the car so we can head to Tina’s summer lake house.
I can do this. I’ve faced worse. Divorce lawyers, drunk exes, threats to my life.
But Dante?
Yeah… that’s “Jurassic Park but T-Rex has eyes just for you” level of danger.
Thirty minutes flat and we’re at the Romano estate. The mansion sits on the edge of the lake. It’s all glass and stone, right out of Architecture Digest . Every time my eyes land on this place, my jaw insists on hanging open.
Cars line the circular driveway, and I can already hear music and laughter spilling out from the house.
My heart realizes it functions better as a jackhammer.
What if he realizes Aria’s his?
What if he hates me?
What if he drags me to fucking court? Can’t see another courtroom again without hurling.
What if he’s still as gorgeous as he was the last time I saw him in my rearview mirror as I drove away?
That last one scares me most of all.
I park between a Mercedes and a Jeep before helping Aria out of her car seat.
“Big house,” she says, eyes wide.
“Very big,” I agree, taking her hand. “Stay close to Mommy, okay?”
We walk up the stone path, and I can see through the wall of windows into the great room.
It’s packed. At least three dozen people are milling around, drinks in hand. Waiters passing trays of food so small I might need a microscope. Everything gleams like we’re one step from a Forbes photoshoot.
It’s a different world in here. One I don’t belong to, but Tina insists is mine.
Wretched best friends.
I smooth my shirt, breathe through the knot in my chest, and march us up to the door with Aria’s hand firmly in mine.
My heart’s going a mile a minute. Blood rushing in my ears. I haven’t been this nervous since the day I signed the divorce papers.
It’s a big party. Maybe Dante won’t notice I’m here.
Yeah… right.
Aria tugs my hand. “Ring the bell, Mommy.”
I do. Before I can change my mind or grab my daughter and run back to our little rental.
The door swings open.
And there he is.
Holy fuck.
I wasn’t ready for this. He’s illegally hot on every level.
Three years gone, and he’s audaciously sweltering.
His jaw’s sharper now. That faint stubble? Criminal. The lines carved into his forehead and around those storm-blue eyes? That’s what does me in. Proof he’s lived. Fought.
Black t-shirt stretched tight across shoulders, broad enough to give me an idea of what lies beneath. Tattoos creep down his neck, snaking under his collar like sin wrapped in ink.
I’m staring. Drooling, probably . My brain short-circuits.
I rip my gaze away, anywhere but his chest, and land straight on those eyes again.
Bad choice. Fatal.
Those eyes— Aria’s eyes —lock onto mine, framed by those little crinkles at the corners that shouldn’t be sexy but are.
Our gazes lock.
Everything else? Static.
The silence screams everything we never said, lingering between us like a gas can about to explode.
Shit.