Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-two
CASSIDY
It’s a stroke past midnight. Rhiannon lies next to me. Soggy tissues litter every surface from the floor to the comforter. On the nightstand, they’re arranged like a field of white flowers. An empty magnum of champagne, elevated by the book I haven’t cracked open in who knows how long, shoots up in the middle.
We hadn’t waited for the grandmother clock to chime midnight to open it. Instead, we popped the cork and drank straight from the bottle.
I don’t care that my room isn’t spotless. This isn’t the way I envisioned my evening, or who I thought I’d wind up in bed with.
After Isaiah’s car pulled away from the curb, I called my cousin to tell her I was no longer in a partying mood. Rhiannon came straight away.
I suppose that’s the sign of a true bestie—that they’ll drop everything and bring booze to drown your sorrows in—but she planned to attend the New Year’s bash at the country club stag, anyhow.
Before she got here, Rhiannon changed into her usual loungewear; black yoga pants and black off the shoulder sweatshirt. I suppose her consistency is another thing I love about her.
While Isaiah’s departure means I’m back to square one searching for that perfect person, Rhiannon doesn’t do relationships. Her idea of dating is finding a no-strings-attached man whose company she can enjoy in the moment. She prefers the hunt and will gladly shoot both her middle fingers to any person who dares to call her a slut. Maybe if she were ten years older her reasons for not trying again would be acceptable to people.
But right now, Rhiannon’s absolute unwillingness to nurse a broken heart back to life makes a heck of a lot of sense to me. I wish I had the walls she’s built around hers.
Wearing my slinky dress like a nightgown, I pull the covers to my chin. I took off my purchased-for-the-occasion sexy thong and the silk stockings. There’s a telltale thin stripe down the wall from pitching my heels, leading to the spot on the carpet where one rests.
My nose is stuffy, my eyes are puffy, and the skin on my face is uncomfortably tight. Tears washed my makeup off, smudging it on the pillowcase. Another tear escapes my lid. The crying I’ve done isn’t helping the pounding headache I have… And now I’m scolding myself for the stupidity of chugging that much champagne on an empty stomach.
The entire situation is my own damn fault. I knew better than to get attached. Still, my crushed heart wonders if I meant anything to Isaiah.
“I can’t believe he up and left like that.” Rhiannon snaps her fingers and they hardly connect. Her actions are drunk and lazy. Each time she’s repeated herself, it comes out more slurred. Although she still sounds as bewildered by Isaiah’s impromptu disappearing act as she was when I’d broken down on the phone. “I don’t get it, Cass. Isaiah seemed sincere when he said what was happening between the two of you was worth exploring. I’m so sorry. If I had any idea this was how it would end…” her sleepy voice trails. Rolling into the fetal position, she grabs my arm and snuggles her forehead to it.
The buzz from the alcohol makes it impossible to hold back my reactions. My lips twist and tears gather in my eyes. “He asked me to go with him.” I finally have the nerve to admit.
Rhiannon’s head tilts up. “Why didn’t you?”
“It was while he was packing. He hesitated before he asked and it sounded… quiet?” Somber. I wish the bubbly was as effective at making me feel less heartsick as the job it is doing making me sound stupid. “Almost as if he didn’t really mean it. And I couldn’t help wondering if bringing me along was something he really wanted. If it was, wouldn’t he have acted excited when he realized the possibility?”
“What if he was putting himself out on a limb and you saying yes would’ve changed that?”
“For how long, though, Rhi? I don’t need to leave to know this is where I belong. Kingsbrier is my home. Our parents felt the pull to come back. You’re here. Everyone else I love is here. Why fight it? I’ve pondered living my entire life at Kingsbrier so many times. I understand it is inevitable. There’s no negative connotation to that. I’m not resentful. I have a good life. A good job. Why prolong my suffering when Isaiah’s life is out there and mine is right here?” My voice echoes off the walls.
“Are ya done? You’re getting mighty riled up.”
“I can’t see how you can’t see it. What if Isaiah abandoned me on a tour stop when I’d served his purpose?”
“Like Rudy?” Rhiannon sits up.
I nod. My nose wrinkles because my cousin is pinching my snot rags between her fingers and tossing them over the bed onto the floor. Gross. I should help with that, but I can’t move or my head will fall off my shoulders.
“That’s a valid fear. So what did Isaiah do after you told him no?”
“He rolled the rest of his clothes into a ball, stuffed them in his suitcase, kissed my cheek, and walked out.”
“That’s rough, sugar. Not even a real last kiss to remember him by.”
“Why didn’t I see it coming?” I whisper, closing my itchy eyes.
I’d hoped I’d been truthful with myself that Isaiah leaving would be hard. But it’s harder than I thought. I grew accustomed to his presence. Even with Rhiannon here, not having him around makes the mansion feel empty and cold. The Christmas decor is still up, but there’s a sterility to my surroundings. I’m back to living in a room at an inn, not necessarily a house filled with love.
While Isaiah was at Kingsbrier, there was a companionable silence to whatever activities we did on our own.
I breathe in through my stuffy nose. There’s a trace of Isaiah’s aftershave on this pillow. This is the spot he liked to sit and write in his songbook. My addled brain decides it’s not the smell of my Isaiah. It’s Isaiah Roomer’s scent. If I were sober, I’d be half-tempted to switch sides of the bed with my cousin.
I’ve never felt more insignificant, and I’m the girl who got fired from the job she could do with one hand tied behind her back when her family hired someone with “more experience”.
A tear puddles at the crook of my nose. My limbs are too heavy to move, so I tilt my head, wincing at the stabbing pain in my temple, and let it tumble.
Rhiannon yawns. She stretches and then hugs me from the side. The comfort is so Gran-like for a moment, a sense of peace fills me. I’m grateful to fall asleep before I remember we’re no longer little girls and Gran’s not with us anymore.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
The tentative knock at the door thunders in my pounding skull.
“Cass? Cassidy, are you home? I need to talk to Isaiah.” Gracyn’s voice carries from the hallway.
I sit up too fast and grab my forehead as pain stabs through my frontal lobe.
“Go away,” Rhiannon groans as I rasp, “We’re here.”
“I don’t want to interrupt, but it’s getting late.” Gracyn stops short when entering. She gets a perplexed expression on her face when she sees Rhiannon move on the mattress from a starfish position, pulling her limbs in like a frightened anemone. “Wait. Where’s Isaiah?”
“Nashville?” I wince when I shrug. My entire body aches.
“You didn’t blow off the country club party and celebrate here?”
I sigh with an imperceptible shake of my head. Moving is making me nauseous.
Gracyn notices my obvious green pallor. Her other half-sister passed out. The heaps of tissues everywhere and the empty champagne bottle. She even sees the scuff, um gouge, on the wall from my shoe heel.
Shit. I was going to fix that.
“Then why did Isaiah’s assistant send this contract?” she asks, holding up her iPad.
I blink.
“Cassidy, it’s almost two in the afternoon. Are you still drunk?”
“Possibly,” I answer.
Gracyn sits at the end of the bed. “I’ve been waiting hours to come over because I didn’t want to walk in on… anything. But you didn’t answer your phone and Vespa wants these returned ASAP.”
I stare at my sister. It takes a minute to register that I left my phone in the bathroom. “The ringer is off.”
“I came to that conclusion already. The rest I need some help with. Didj’all have a fight?”
“No,” I say sadly. “Vespa called when we were getting ready for the party. The next thing I know, Isaiah left.”
“Then why did she book every available room for the next eight weeks?”
“What!” My jaw drops and I grab my forehead. “Ow!”
My sister patiently waits while I rub the searing sensation away.
“What does Isaiah want the B&B for two months for? And you agreed to this?”
“Of course, I did. It’s the slow season and the extra amount of money Vespa enticed me with to cancel any standing reservations means I can reschedule those bookings at a later date and offer the guests a discount. Not to mention, she alluded that Isaiah can still sue us for the fall. Be wary of that woman, both of you. Do you hear me Rhi?” Gracyn shakes Rhiannon’s hip.
Rhiannon lets out a muffled agreement.
“My only real negotiating power was refusing a twelve-week offer and telling her I had no choice but to get the trust’s approval for anyone other than Isaiah to stay here before your vacation was over, which is one reason I needed to see you. But I figured you and Isaiah already came to an agreement and the preliminary NDAs—which she won’t release the payment for until they’re signed by you, me, and Rhi—were a formality.”
Rhiannon bats a hand in the air, requesting the stylus from Gracyn. Using her hip as a desk, she scribbles her signature on the screen without even looking to see if it’s in the box.
“No offense, Gracyn, but when you’re wired, you talk faster than Aunt Brier and as loud as Cassidy. Go away or go find something to help fix my hangover.” Rhiannon flops a pillow over her head.
My head is throbbing, so I can’t help but agree with Rhiannon’s assessment.
However, I see Gracyn’s point of view. Vespa hasn’t proven to be the nicest person in the world. Our sister has every right to be worried about the inn’s reputation.
“I know nothing about any of this.” I swallow. My clammy hand holds the iPad. The screen shows an identical agreement to Rhiannon’s with my name on it.
My pulse jackhammers my temple, and my heartbeat makes it hard to inhale. Righteous indignation at getting dumped wars with the itty-bitty piece of me that’s now wondering if Rhiannon was right. Maybe Isaiah went out on a limb asking me to accompany him and last night would have turned out differently if I said yes.
Except he’s gone from breaking our date to booking an entire hotel without consulting me. And if I’m reading the situation correctly, broken heart or not, I’m stuck going along with it. I open my mouth, feeling used by a man I trusted.
“I don’t even know where Isaiah is.” I look at the door as Gatlin slides into my room.
“He showed up at our place a few hours ago,” My cousin says. “Cassidy, I’d never want someone making rash decisions for me, but I’d sign that if I were you.”