Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
CASSIDY
“I’m sorry I let Will and Ben believe Aria was your daughter,” Isaiah offers me a conciliatory glass of wine.
“I’m not,” Vespa scoffs. “They ate the single-mother-making-doe-eyes at the celebrity up with a spoon.”
“It’s okay.” I keep my voice cheery.
The first divine sip of wine hits my palette. I relax into the couch cushions, blinking at Vespa and goading her to try me.
Isaiah’s assistant and I have moved past hiding the love lost between us. Vespa is highly competent and I understand why he keeps her around. Before I knew of her, she finagled the restaurant reservations for him. And you know what? That benefited me too. Asking Vespa to behave the way I’d like her to is at odds with the standards she’s set for herself.
However, both fish and B&B guests stink after a month. Vespa might’ve been quick on her feet this morning, but I won’t pretend her demanding behavior doesn’t grate on my last nerve.
Today was a long day. I changed the baby, collected all of her things for Monty, and sent Aria on her way to my cousin’s house. I still had the kitchen to clean. The marinade to make. Lunch to prepare. And to bring the basket clear across the ranch to the studio without the cellophane ruining the presentation. I got back in the nick of time to sign for the grocery delivery. Then Gracyn came into the kitchen to go over Vespa’s email updates to Isaiah’s schedule. Isaiah’s whereabouts was something we learned we had to manage with contractors in and out, fixing the ceiling damage. We’ve kept up to ensure he isn’t milling about when housekeeping or other maintenance crews are inside the inn.
While my sister and I chatted, I chopped and diced. The company Isaiah’s invited to Kingsbrier this afternoon meant extra mouths to feed, so I made more than the meatballs. I whisked a creamy mushroom paté to dollop on canapés and decorated the tops with prosciutto roses with slivers of basil and cucumbers for the leaves. I set the tray of hors d’oeuvres in the dining room as I’d been directed to do while I was at my uncle’s. Isaiah’s management team wants extra space to go over tour accommodations and security.
This left Monty unable to pick up Aria. I hustled over to Gatlin’s to relieve the sitter. Aria fell asleep in the car on the way back to the inn and woke up starving, so I fed her an early dinner.
Now, she’s in a spinny contraption, intent on getting cereal puffs from the surface into her mouth. So far she’s been mostly unsuccessful, but it’s keeping her occupied. And there is something to say about that, since Isaiah looks as exhausted by Will and Ben’s visit as I feel.
“What Vespa means to say is we appreciate your help today.” Isaiah sits down on the floor.
He tickles Aria’s bare feet. She offers him the puff stuck to her finger. He eats it with a Mmm and she looks proudly at me.
“Mummm,” the baby repeats, delighted when Isaiah accepts another soggy bit.
Vespa rolls her eyes, flopping into a wing chair and crossing her legs and arms. It’s obvious she thinks it’s gross.
Don’t get me wrong, if I think too hard about eating squishy, slobbery cereal puffs, it makes me want to hurl. Except, I remember Joe doing the same thing when Wilder was an infant. Seeing Isaiah and Aria together, seeing how far they’ve come, turns my insides to mush.
I put a hand to my forehead, leaning my elbow on the sofa arm. I’m counting down until I don’t have to deal with Vespa’s antagonistic bullshit any longer. The only problem is once Vespa is out of my hair, so is Isaiah. They’ll be on tour.
“Oh, what was that I overhead about Jake’s?” I ask.
“Over the holidays, we talked about me playing at his concert hall. Honestly, I’d put it out of my mind. But I guess he mentioned it to his talent manager, and they offered several dates to Will leading up to the tour. I’d like to do it just to dip my toes in the pool. I haven’t performed live in almost a year.” The broad grin that started out on Isaiah’s face falls, pinched and morose.
He returns his attention to the baby and starts making gobbling sounds, pretending to eat her feet to make her laugh—and likely to get out of eating any more mushy finger foods.
Vespa groans. “You need to do it for publicity. Not to mention, the venue is small and the ticket prices for a country headliner in the Raleigh market are high.”
“I don’t want to gouge my fans.”
She bats her hand. “You know as well as I do that people love exclusivity. It feeds their FOMO.”
“Do you have to charge a lot?” I wince.
Entertainment marketing isn’t something I’m familiar with.
“No. Jake’s gotta cover Sweet Caroline’s costs and then negotiate my fee with Will. There are travel expenses and the band has to get paid. I can take less as long as my people are compensated.”
“You?” I point my wine glass at Vespa.
She takes a haughty tone. “I’m salaried. Will gets a percentage on top of his retainer and, to a lesser extent, so does Ben. But Will doesn’t want to share with Ben out of his pot, and Ben’s priority while Will is away won’t be Isaiah if he feels like he’s getting stiffed.”
That makes sense.
I turn to Isaiah. “If you don’t need a lot of money and getting on stage is something you want to do before the tour starts, why don’t you go do it?”
Isaiah motions, palms up to Aria.
“ Aand he has yet to have a plan for what happens to her during the actual tour.” Vespa flips her legs over the arm of the chair.
I want to yell, “Why are you still here!” This is the time of day she locks herself in her coffin and Isaiah and I take the baby for a walk in the wooded area across the street.
“You have to admit, this morning could have turned into a complete fiasco. You not playing Daddy Warbucks when they showed up early was our only saving grace. Because of Cassidy, Will didn’t suspect a thing. It’s in your best interest to let him, Ben, and everyone else continue to believe Cassidy is Aria’s mother.”
I lift my glass, taking another sip. Vespa has a certain way with backhanded compliments. Heaven forbid she thanks me for saving their asses.
“It’s been a whopper of a day, Vespa, and you’re right. Cassidy did us a solid this morning. Would you mind giving Aria her bottle before bedtime?”
His assistant is gone in a flash, muttering something about needing to confirm details about something with Monty, who isn’t even here. He and Steve—the second security guy—are off doing god knows what with Rhiannon. I’m hoping it’s playing a simple game of pool and drinks at the Grille.
Isaiah huffs a laugh, looking at me and shaking his head.
“Vespa keeps you in line.”
“I knew what I said would make her scarce. But is that the nicest thing you can say?” Isaiah’s grin returns.
“Pretty much.” I shrug. “Other than that I’d be happy to watch Aria while you are in North Carolina.”
“She’s my responsibility. I can’t ask that of you.” His shoulders fall.
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered. What will you do with Aria when you’re on tour?”
“I don’t have a plan yet.” Fidgety, he plucks at his lips. “Would you really be willing to watch her overnight?”
“Singing at Jake’s club is important to you. I don’t see why you have to give it up.”
Taking care of a baby is stressful under the best of circumstances. Day by day, I’ve watched Isaiah getting attached. He plans everything around a little girl, cramming as much as he can into the hours she’s gone. It’s obvious he regrets how he handled the holidays. When he’s tired or his hands are full, he hesitates to accept help with her. He’s wary of handing the baby over to anyone who wants to hold her. Not so much because he’s scared she’ll fuss, or that Aria isn’t safe with my family members. It’s a sense of responsibility.
I think he wants Aria to understand he isn’t as undependable as he was. I’m certain he’s come to love her. After a great deal of soul searching and trying to place myself in his shoes when we have clearly walked different paths, I’ve forgiven the broken man who kept his wife’s secret child from me.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Vespa arranges for Isaiah’s band to stay at a hotel in town before they arrived for practice this week. She says it’s because there’s “nothing to do out here in the boonies.”
Call me crazy, but Vespa rented the banquet hall to rehearse in during the weekdays, which means no guests here for a gourmet meal except them, and, personally, I’ve never found an estate with the resources we have “boring.”
But I understand the obvious: Extra guest make it harder to hide the baby at the B&B.
The upside is I can bake muffins in my pajamas, something I’ve been doing lately that feels decadent.
After a long practice session last week, Isaiah came home, took one look at the unused pool, and decided we needed a dip. The heater’s been on ever since, and I take Aria out to swim whenever I like. Last weekend, Gatlin, Bellamy, and Chesney came over for a splash. Point: I’m also not concerned about wearing a swimsuit in front of anyone.
As grueling as the sessions are, Isaiah is happy. He enjoys having the band around. The group persuades him to perform at Sweet Caroline’s, which I think is great. He reluctantly agrees to a date before he’s supposed to head out on tour.
As the activity surrounding his travel schedule increases, Isaiah has become anxious, both in the excited sense of the word and apprehensive. He alternately dances, dipping Aria to make her squeal and singing her his songs, and then paces around the mansion, muttering to himself and covering his lips with his thumb—something I now recognize as a nervous habit.
“Relax!” I encourage, holding Aria on my hip. We’re standing on the granite front steps to wave goodbye to him. “I’m here. Rhi is here.” I toss my chin at my cousin.
“Don’t forget about Monty,” Isaiah says. Waves of uncertainty roll off of him. It’s adorable.
“I didn’t.” How could I? We’ve had this conversation verbatim for days. “She’ll be fine. You’ll miss your flight.”
“It’s a chartered plane. It can’t leave without us. Text Vespa if you have any trouble getting ahold of me.”
I say nothing to this. Vespa will have to pry Isaiah’s phone from his hands to get him on stage. What I do instead is something I’ve never done with an audience. I remove the pen Isaiah is chewing on from his mouth.
His scruff brushes my lips as I kiss him goodbye. I rub my fingers over his check. “The new beard is sexy. It’ll drive the girls wild.”
His arm wraps around my waist as he draws me closer. “Only one woman I want to drive wild. But thanks. I guess I’m keeping it now that I know it turns you on,” he whispers in my ear.
Squished between us. Aria lets out a sound that is part squeal, part groan, and part cry. We turn our face to her simultaneously and she’s chewing on her fingers with an enchanting smile and drool dripping off of her chin. Her four teeth are showing.
“ Mmm… huh? Fingers are yummy,” Isaiah shifts from panty-melting country star into attentive single dad mode, making my ovaries ache.
Aria looks at me with a smile, repeating the Mmm.
Isaiah gobbles close to her cheek and then gives her three quick pecks. The last lingers on her forehead.
“Be good,” he tells her.
He inhales, making a memory of her baby scent, and my insides get squishy.
Gone is the awkward man who couldn’t find a comfortable position on the couch with an infant strapped to his chest. Isaiah’s so enamored with Aria you’d never know how mixed up they started out. There’s an itty-bitty part of me dying to see the way he reacts if she ever calls him Daddy: a word we actively avoid using.
Rhiannon, Aria, and I wave as the car pulls away. When we go inside, Aria tucks her head under my chin, humming Mmm and patting my chest. I bring her up to the sitting room in Isaiah’s suite, which doubles as her nursery, and put Aria down for a nap.
In the hall, Rhiannon is coming out of my room with a stack of books.
“Borrowing these.” She flashes the top title.
“I haven’t read them, anyway.”
I haven’t gotten to any of the selections since November. In January, I’d been at odds with Isaiah and went to my aunt’s book club to clear my head. I’d had a good time, until the discussion began, and then I felt left out. I haven’t been back. Rhiannon is the opposite and is more into the social aspect than the books. Oh, and the spicier the book, the better.
“Did you finally realize there’s more out there than living vicariously through imaginary characters?” my cousin quips.
“What?” I ask, perplexed. I’ve been too distracted by Isaiah and Aria to read. We have our nightly walks, her bedtime routine, and I like spending time with him before I go to bed.
“Cass, where do you see this going with Isaiah?”
“The same as before. It’s a fling. It’s not going anywhere.”
“What if he asked you to go on tour with him?” Rhiannon plops her bottom down on the foyer staircase.
I do the same, discounting her question with a sneer. “To pretend to be Aria’s mother?”
I told Rhiannon about how Vespa’s quick thinking saved the day when Will and Ben were here. However, the baby’s true parentage is nobody’s business but Isaiah and Aria’s. My family still believes Isaiah’s a single dad, trying to keep his daughter out of the public eye. Which is sort of the truth?
As her legal guardian, he’s spoken to me about keeping Aria from being exploited. He wants her to grow up surrounded by people who love her and want the best for her. That’s why staying at Kingsbrier was so important to him, and I’m glad we could support them.
Although, even if it benefits a little girl who deserves a family of her own, I hate that I’ve fed mine a whopper of a lie. Telling another untruth by pretending I’m her mom makes it harder to untangle myself.
Plus, some days I’m guilty of exchanging fact for fiction. We feel like we’re our own little microcosm. That he is her dad and I’m her mom and we can all live happily ever after.
The sooner Isaiah leaves, the better. I need to stop fibbing to myself that we have a connection. Hence, my newfound celibacy and not allowing the man into my bedroom.
“What are you so afraid of?” Rhiannon continues interrogating me.
“Wedding season is upon us. The inn is booked. I can’t take time off of work to go on tour.”
“Gracyn can find another cook, dummy.”
I’m aghast at the suggestion.
“I mean, Gracyn probably won’t hold your job forever.” Rhiannon speaks soothingly. “Just until she’s sure Isaiah Roomer has swept you off your feet.”
“Ha! Isaiah Roomer can’t fall in love with me.”
“I hate to break the bad news, but sex-pot country boy wouldn’t be here nursing a massive case of blue balls if he weren’t already half in the bag for you, babe. Isaiah set his sights on you the moment he got here. None of this is pretend to him, Cassidy. A change of scenery might be what you need to get that through your thick skull.”
“This is my home! What exactly do you propose I do if he never wants to come back?” My voice rises to a hysterical level.
“Okay, don’t go.” Rhiannon gets up, dusting her hands on her black leggings. “But how will you feel if you let this man leave without you, again, and this time he never comes back?” Her lips twist and her eyes get red and misty.
“Rhi, I—”
“Nope. Nope! We’re not discussing Jordy… Just… Don’t squander a second chance, okay? Not all of us get one.”