Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-four
It seems reclusive country sensation Isaiah Roomer spent the winter getting cozy with his personal chef… Sources close to the singer say he is dating the single mother, who has joined him on tour along with her infant daughter.
ISAIAH
“Mom, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I say, answering my mother’s call using my laptop.
I smile when Cassidy places a plate on the table. Bacon and eggs. Two slices of toasted sourdough baked from scratch and leftover from yesterday’s lunch.
“Thanks,” I mouth, reaching for my knife and the tub of roasted red pepper butter. I woke up hungry and don’t wait to dig in.
“You’re welcome,” Cass whispers, returning to the counter to plate Monty and Dillon’s breakfasts as the toaster pops.
Like every other location we’ve arrived at, come daybreak Cassidy insists on feeding a hearty meal to whomever has traveled on the bus.
“Don’t play coy, dear,” my mother scoffs.
“We’ll take these outside.” Monty lifts from his seat and Dillon slides over in the booth.
“Stay, eat,” I tell them. I can’t say anything to my mother that anyone else hasn’t already figured out.
I’m momentarily distracted by Aria. Her travel high chair attaches to the table. She takes a bite of sourdough and spits it out, blowing a raspberry. I chuckle, place some of my scrambled eggs on her tray for her to squish between her tiny fingers and return my attention to my mom.
On the screen, her perfectly manicured eyebrow rises as high as her meticulously dyed roots.
“You were calling to say congratulations?” I inquire.
The first week of the tour, “Lead Us Home” was the lead-in to the second half of the show. By the end of the week, a lot of people shared concert videos on their social feeds and the crowd knew the lyrics. My media team jumped, posting a teaser of the song on my socials and the live performance on YouTube. The audience’s reaction to new music was stunning. Exactly what I’d expected when I kept the song for negotiating power. When we pushed the single onto the airwaves, it debuted at number eight on the charts and bumped up the rank of the song fans are so sure I wrote about Kylie.
During rehearsal, the band and I are practicing a medley of the two songs I’m going to perform at the Country Music Network awards show. When Will brought up the appearance, I hadn’t wanted to take the stage at all, but the way the tunes overlap has me anticipating the audience’s reaction.
But there’s always a downside to success.
Someone on the crew leaked to the press that my personal chef is here in more than a professional capacity. Rhiannon snapped Cassidy a headline image that read Roomered Romance . Then Celebrity Snoopers discovered the tie to Kingsbrier. Media hounds descended on the estate and Gracyn’s husband, Joe, the deputy sheriff, arrested several people for trespassing on private property. Gatlin’s wiki entry was updated, denoting Cassidy as a relation. Callers to the morning show forgot their manners and asked Gatlin and Bellamy about us directly. They responded by leaving Cassidy out of it and saying they weren’t discussing my private business.
Not responding to any conjecture was our plan as well. So, my friends’ response made it easier, especially when reporters started digging through birth records to discover more about the baby. They’ve come up empty for Cassidy Cavanaugh in Texas. Aria’s birth certificate lists Jane Doe as her mother, and guardianship records are sealed in the state of Tennessee.
The tabloids have reported every falsehood; from Kylie, distraught over our affair, intentionally crashing her car into the tree to I’m the father of Cassidy’s child. A contingent of Kylie’s online superfans have painted Cassidy as a woman down her luck and in search a meal ticket.
Honestly, the confusion works to our benefit. There have been so many lies printed, no one knows what to believe and people tend to believe whatever conspiracy theory suits their purpose.
Even after Cassidy explained to her parents, we prepared for whatever was coming. I wound up on the horn with Colton when he and Keely became concerned about Cassidy’s and Aria’s safety. I assured Cassidy’s dad the security team sticks to my girls like glue. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Three weeks into the tour, Cassidy and Aria sequester themselves to the privacy of our bus as crowds gather in the evenings.
All of this is why my mother is calling.
“I’m proud of your success with the new single.” Mom Cheshire grins. My success is tantamount to her success. “But I want to caution you about the romance rumors, darling.”
“That’s funny. I thought you believed even bad PR was good PR?”
“Tell me all of this is for show. What’s being reported in those nasty tabloids is beneath you.”
“Agreed.” The woman I love and I are accepting the brunt of someone else’s choices at the cost of our reputations. No one guaranteed life or the decisions we’d make were fair.
“A cook? A single mother?”
Refilling our coffees, Cassidy stills.
“Whoa there. You were a single mother when dad died,” I retort. “You’ve been a single mother since your divorce from Ezra’s father.”
“I was your mother when I first became a single mother. You were already a celebrity,” Mom pshes. “What do you even know about this woman?”
I leave the question hanging.
As is her routine, Cassidy serves herself last. I recall her comment about never eating at mealtimes and watch her lean against the counter, staying out of the way as she digs into her eggs. Cook or girlfriend, she shouldn’t stand up to eat.
“There’s room at the table, chou,” I remind her I’m not keeping my feelings about her a secret.
I have no doubts Mom loves me. But she deals with death—my father’s, my wife’s—by disregarding it. While most mothers would smother their child after they lost a spouse, mine made herself scarce. Her reaction is borderline neglectful compared to the way the Cavanaugh family surrounds one another.
I have to admit I’m not a stranger to rejection sensitivity. Monty and Vespa were the only people around who cared and that did shit for my mental health. But I don’t subscribe to cutting people out of your life, and perhaps that’s something I need to continue to talk with my therapist about. I have built a nice wall to cope with my mother’s behaviors and use it to remind myself I’m not responsible for the way she grapples with her own demons.
Professionally, I was also wary of being left behind by Kylie when I’d served her purpose, but she abandoned me before I was even aware. When my wife died, and left me responsible for a child I couldn’t keep, it fed into my fear that I’d always be without familial bonds to count on. So, unless this call is my mom extending an olive branch, the amount of attention I’ll focus on our relationship until the fall, when Cassidy and I go home, is equivalent to the empathy my mother has shown me. I know where my priorities lie, and it’s with the family I’m creating with a woman who’s proven to me I can count on her.
Sliding my laptop over, the camera points at both of us as Cassidy takes her place next to me. She scoops some cubed avocado and diced tomatoes off her plate and onto Aria’s tray.
“Is your breakfast still warm enough?” I inquire as Cassidy lifts her fork.
She hums her acquiesce. Aria wiggles, humming her usual mmm . Everyone surrounding us chuckles.
Looking uncomfortable, my mother clears her throat.
It’s not that I don’t trust my mom won’t sell me out. She’s protective of my reputation and, despite adoring Kylie, she complained about my first marriage. But I’m an adult.
“Haven’t heard from you since your voice message at Christmas, Mom. What have you been up to? How’s Ezra?” My stepbrother is her favorite topic and I haven’t gotten a text from him in a while.
“He’s a moody teenager,” Mom replies in bored monotone.
“Give him a break.”
My brother’s gregarious, but at this age he only wants what every other kid does, for his mom to cut the apron strings. Which is too bad for a kid whose mother’s life achievement was raising me. Mom wanted Isaiah 2.0 and Ezra is inclined to follow his own path.
This is one reason I prefer for everyone to think Aria belongs to Cassidy. Kylie’s success casts a huge shadow. There are no superfluous expectations of Aria as a Cavanaugh. She can have a normal childhood. She can grow up and become whatever she wants.
I grin, taking my last mouthful. Chewing, I recline on the banquette and put my arm behind Cassidy’s back.
“Cassidy,” Mom addresses my girl, testing her. “Do you have any pictures of the three of you?”
“Oh, um. ” Cassidy’s eyes widen, searching for an appropriate response.
Aria is seated off-camera and I haven’t moved my laptop to show my mom how stinkin’ adorable Aria is. I have faith in the decisions Cassidy makes about the baby in my absence, though she defers to me whenever I’m around.
“I think your phone is in the bedroom. Don’t worry, I gotchu.” With Cassidy looking over my shoulder, I find the album on my cell and send an older one.
“This is beautiful… You used a professional. For the holidays no less,” Mom says as it arrives. She zooms in and out, inspecting every square inch.
“The photographer works for my uncle and is one of the best music industry photographers,” Cassidy toots her cousin’s horn. “Isaiah mentioned you were his manager at one point. Do you know Cris Sanchez, ma’am?”
I kiss her cheek for understanding name dropping will win my mother over. Plus, it’s the explanation I would have gone with had I felt I owed my mother one.
“Oh,” Mom claps her hands together. “Tell me you’re writing with Sanchez and Ballantine! The dream of a lifetime!”
“We composed the new single together. Cass and I met through her family. The label is contracting with that same photographer to do my next album cover shoot.”
“Oh, oh, my darling boy. So many sad, sad moments this past year. I am so happy for you.” Mom returns to the image of the three of us. “Your daughter is exceptionally beautiful, Cassidy. What’s her name?”
“Thank you,” Cassidy replies. She’s gotten better at hiding her fluster. “Her name is Aria.”
“You chose a perfect name, considering. Maybe the fates understood you’d soon meet my son.”
“They did.” My girlfriend beams confidently at me. Despite her next statement, Cassidy’s proving to my mother she’s not going anywhere. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a baby with sticky fingers and a messy face to wipe. It was lovely talking to you.”
She attends to Aria and then zips her into the bunk to play with her toys. While I finish the call with my mother, Monty and Dillon bring their plates to the sink. They exit to unload the stroller and various bulky items Cassidy needs to occupy Aria during the two days we’ll spend here.
We learned right away we should have packed the borrowed spinny seat and had one delivered. The only thing Aria loves more than standing tall and dropping to her bottom to make it bounce is pressing the keyboard on Cassidy’s laptop as she’s trying to meal plan or order groceries. Now that we have another baby-distractor, Cassidy can also sift through her recipe box without the fragile old index cards getting chewed on.
Cassidy is loading the dishwasher and I stand to bus my plate and upend my mug. Our domesticity seems out of place when compared to the pyrotechnics and the massive video wall displays surrounding the stage. But performing and waking to this have become equally important. I couldn’t be doing what I am without a partner as supportive as she is.
I grab her soapy hand as she sets the last knife in the silverware tray and pull her into a tight embrace. “You played that beautifully, chou.”
She presses her forehead to my chest admitting, “I was so nervous. I thought I’d have time to prepare when I met your mother. I feel like I have to be more convincing next time or she’ll see through the act.” Cassidy looks up at me.
“What act?” I cup her cheeks. “You tell me all the time I’m the only father Aria knows. Same goes. You’re the only mother Aria knows. That little girl loves you as much as I do. Us? We’re not an act. Not when it comes down to it. I mean, how are we any different from a couple who fosters a baby and then adopts them?”
“She has a parent out there,” Cassidy reminds me.
“And if we never find them,” which I’m betting we don’t, “she has parents right here.”