Page 18 of Rockstar Daddy's Second Chance

Instead, I nod. “Yes, otherwise it would quickly lose its charm.”

Kendrick gives me a look filled with surprise, and then Cassidy pulls our focus to her when she curiously points at something that just caught her attention.

We walk for a while, the early morning air brisk against our faces. Cassidy chatters on about the sights of New York, the band, and my performance, and then, like always, she talks about music, listing the songs she wants to master. I listen, genuinely interested in every word, amazed by her youthful passion and drive. She reminds me of someone—well, two people. Myself and Kendrick. It’s a strange feeling to see bits of both of us in her like we somehow gave our daughter the best of both of us.

At Central Park, she rushes ahead, her awed voice filling the air as she takes in the lush greenery. “Dad, look at this!” She calls out, pointing to a massive fountain.

My heart still swells whenever she calls me ‘dad,’ and I can’t stop the stupid grin that spreads across my face. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing her say it.

We stroll through the park, Cassidy trying to absorb every fresh new experience we come across. My eyes go from Cassidy to Kendrick. She left her hair down today, and the brisk wind has her pushing it behind her ears and out of her eyes constantly.

Kendrick’s wearing snug jeans that hug her slim curves, and her cheeks are flushed with a pretty pink. Her gray eyes are sparkling with enjoyment, just like Cassidy’s. At this moment, she looks young—like the girl I used to know. And I feel my heart give a little tug of emotion. She suddenly turns and catches me staring, and the color deepens on her face when I don’t look away.

A soft laugh slips helplessly from Kendrick’s lips as her eyes rake over me. I’m wearing jeans with holes in the knees, an old sweatshirt, and dark aviator sunglasses, and my long hair is pulled up inside my baseball cap, the brim low, hiding my face.

“What?” I ask her curiously.

“You look… like a tourist,” she finally gets out between laughs.

“I know,” I state with a grin. Leaning forward, I whisper, “That’s the look I was going for.”

Cassidy chimes in, her laughter ringing out, “Then you definitely nailed it. No one will recognize you dressed like that.” She rolls her eyes like a typical pre-teen girl.

The hours slip by as we wander from one spot to the next, and it’s only when we’re halfway through Times Square that Cassidy stops, her gaze caught by a massive billboard of me grinning down at her.

“So many people know your name,” she says, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief. “Is it weird being so famous?”

I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s… complicated. It’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not as glamorous as most people think. There are times when it feels lonely. But,” I add, grinning down at her, “today, getting to share all of this with you makes it all worth it.”

Cassidy’s smile widens, and I know right then that I’d trade every lonely night, each crowded venue, interview, and after-party just to have this with her. I want more days like this—simple, grounded, and real.

My eyes dart to Kendrick, and I see a knowing smile on her face. It is as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Alright, now I have a surprise,” I say, leaning in conspiratorially toward Cassidy.

Before she can say anything, her mother clears her throat. “I think I’ll head on back to the hotel.”

I give Kendrick a frown. “Alone? You don’t have to—“

She cuts me off with, “I know, but I think you and Cassidy should have a few moments… without me. Some father, daughter bonding time.”

“Mom, are you sure?” Cassidy asks.

Kendrick nods softly. “Yes, I’m sure.” She walks over, gives Cassidy a brief hug, and turns to me with a smile. “Have fun, you two.”

With a wave at Kendrick, I grin down at Cassidy, “Now for your surprise.”

Her eyes glow with anticipation as she looks around. “Where is it?”

“Straight ahead.” I lead her to a nearby music shop, a place I’ve been to a few times over the years. The walls are lined with guitars, amps, and everything a musician could dream of. Cassidy’s eyes light up as we step inside, and I watch her wander through the aisles, running her fingers over guitar strings, eyes widening at the array of options in front of her.

“Every musician needs the right instrument,” I say, gesturing toward the rows of guitars. ‘Let’s find the one that feels like yours.”

Her jaw drops, and she looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Wait… you mean… for me?”

“Of course,” I say with a grin. “You need a proper instrument, and I think it’s time you got an upgrade.”

Her eyes go wistful. “It would be nice…,” But then I see her hesitate. “Guitars are so expensive–”

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