Page 19 of Rockstar Daddy's Second Chance

“Cassidy, trust me. I can afford it.”

She suddenly smiles, and her eyes shimmer with hope. “Okay. Will you help me choose?”

“Of course,” I say instantly, “This is from me to you. Go ahead, let’s find one that speaks to you.”

She’s hesitant at first, but as her fingers brush over a sleek, pink electric guitar with a sunburst finish, I can tell she’s found one she likes. “What do you think about this one?” she whispers. “It’s pretty.”

“Yes, it is. But pick it up and strum a few chords. Let’s hear how it sounds,” I advise.

A salesman comes over and assists us by taking down the guitar. I listen as Cassidy strums it. When she glances up at me, we both shake our heads.

I turn toward the salesman and tell him what we’re looking for. He gives me an approving nod and then holds up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”

He returns a short time later carrying a classic-style acoustic guitar, the finish gleaming with a rich patina. “Here, try this. It’s a Martin.”

Turning to Cassidy, I explain, “Martin is one of the oldest guitar brands in existence. They make a great instrument.”

The salesman hands the guitar to Cassidy, who takes it almost reverently. “It’s beautiful,” she says in awe. She tentatively plays a few chords, and the sound of the guitar boasts a deep, powerful sound.

She looks up at me, her eyebrows raised and her eyes hopeful.

I nod. “I think that’s the one for you,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion as she lets out an excited squeal and hugs me.

“Thanks, Dad!” Her eyes sparkle with pure joy.

A swell of pride washes over me as Cassidy hugs the guitar to her chest and carries it to the register.

Next, we pick out a sturdy case, black on the outside but purple on the inside. When I hand my American Express to the salesman, his eyes go wide. “Here you go, sir, I mean… Mr. Wild.”

“Thanks for your help,” I tell him with a grateful smile and a handshake.

Cassidy clings to her new guitar the entire way back, her smile so wide it practically lights up the sidewalk. It feels good to be able to give her something she loves, something that will help her grow as a musician.

When we arrive back at the penthouse suite, Cassidy races ahead, eager to show Kendrick her gift. I take a moment to gather my thoughts and am ready to explain my choice to Kendrick if she questions it. I know this is probably a bit extravagant, but seeing the joy in Cassidy’s eyes is worth it.

But as we step into the suite, I come face-to-face with an unexpected visitor.

Pixie, a notorious pop star with a mouth as smart as her reputation is glittery, is sprawled across the sofa, her legs draped over the armrest, casually flipping through a magazine. Derrick looks on, seeming uncharacteristically pleased with himself.

“Cass, darlin’!” Pixie purrs, stretching her arms above her head like a cat. “I told Derrick about tonight’s party when I heard you were in town.” Her dark eyes glide to me. “Didn’t think I’d have to hunt you down.”

I fight the urge to groan. Derrick must’ve known this would throw a wrench in things. Pixie and I have a… complicated history. It’s not uncommon for us to share a bed when we’re both in the same city. It’s nothing serious; we both know the score. But seeing Pixie here, sprawled across the sofa like she owns the place, while Kendrick and Cassidy stand awkwardly nearby sends a sharp twist of regret through me. My worlds colliding like this isn’t just awkward—it’s a disaster waiting to happen–and Derrick knows that. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, his smug smile practically daring me to say something.

“You’re Pixie Cane.” Cassidy’s face lights up as she looks at Pixie, clearly impressed.

Kendrick stands off to the side, arms crossed tightly, her jaw set. A storm brews behind her gray eyes, one she’s trying to rein in for Cassidy’s sake.

“Didn’t know we had company,” I say through gritted teeth, throwing Derrick a glare that he ignores, instead looking on with grim satisfaction.

“Oh, I’m not company,” Pixie laughs, tossing her pink-streaked hair over her shoulder as she scans Cassidy with a curious smile. “Who is this? She’s cute. A little young for you, though. Huh?”

Kendrick’s gaze sharpens, and I can feel the tension rising. “Her name is Cassidy,” Kendrick says, her voice steady but edged with steel.

“Cassidy, right.” Pixie smirks, clearly not caring about the correction. She turns back to me, her tone casual. “So, Cass, how about we hit the town tonight? Some of the guys from the label are throwing a party, VIPs only. You won’t want to miss it.”

I glance at Kendrick, who’s doing her best to remain calm, though I can see the fire in her eyes. She’s not just annoyed—she’s angry. I can tell she hates this whole situation, and frankly, I’m starting to feel the same.

“Not tonight, Pixie,” I say firmly. “I’m staying in.”

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