The pain in her voice cuts straight through me. “They don’t mean to hurt you,” I say softly. “They’re excited about meeting Cass, but that doesn’t mean they don’t care about you.”
Cassidy looks down at the table, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “It just feels... fake.”
I nod, understanding all too well. “It’s hard sometimes, isn’t it? Having a famous dad means people will act differently around you, even when you wish they wouldn’t.”
She nods, her eyes welling with tears. “I just wanted a fun birthday with my friends. Not... this.”
My heart breaks for her, and I move to sit beside her, pulling her into a hug. “I know, sweetheart. And I promise we’ll make it special. The people who truly care about you—the ones who are really your friends—will be there foryou, not because of Cass.”
She sniffles, burying her face in my shoulder. “Sometimes, I wish he wasn’t quite so famous.”
I stroke her hair, my own eyes stinging with tears. “I know. But your dad loves you more than anything, Cassidy. And he’d trade all the fame in the world to make your birthday celebration happy.”
She pulls back slightly, wiping her eyes. “He’ll be there, right? For my party?”
I smile, cupping her cheek. “He promised he’d be there, didn’t he? And your dad doesn’t break his promises.”
Cassidy nods, her tears slowing though the sadness lingers in her eyes. “Okay. But can we not invite any more people? I just want it to be small. With only Holly and a few true friends who really want to be there.”
“Of course,” I say, relieved to see a hint of a smile return to her face. “It’s your day, Cassidy. We’ll make it exactly how you want it.”
As she goes back to her cards, her movements are more subdued now, and I sit quietly, watching her. The weight of what she’s experiencing at such a young age presses heavily on my heart. She shouldn’t have to navigate these complicated emotions—feeling torn between pride in her father and the ugliness that sometimes comes with his fame.
Later that night, in his arms, after we’ve made love, Cass asks me, “What should I get Cassidy for her birthday? I want it to be special—something unforgettable.” His arms tighten around me. “Do you know what she’d like?”
Looking up at him, I smile. “Why not give her something she’ll always remember? An experience—like a trip or an adventure she’s never had before.” Turning to face him, I ask, “What’s your favorite childhood memory? It’s something happy and memorable, right?”
Cass goes quiet. “A happy memory…” His lips curve upward in a smile, and he nods. “I’ve got it.” Looking down at me, he whispers, “Thank you, Kendrick. That’s what I’ll give her. Something to remember.”
He leans forward, gives me a slow kiss, and holds me close as I fall asleep in his arms.
The next morning, I rise early and head downstairs to fix breakfast.
When Cassidy and her father arrive at the table, I have to smile. Their shared mannerisms are uncanny, from their half-asleep expressions to the way they perk up at the smell of bacon. Watching them together warms my heart in ways I hadn’t expected.
Setting a plate full of waffles down in front of them, I turn to get the butter and warm syrup. Next is the bacon. I watch as they both smile their appreciation and dig in.
The conversation is slow but comfortable as they both come fully awake. Just as we’re finishing breakfast, Cass’s phone rings. He frowns when he sees it’s Derrick.
“I better take this,” he mumbles as he answers the call. Pushing away from the table, he walks into the living room.
“Hey, Derrick, what’s up?”
Glancing at Cassidy, I say, “Help me clear the table?”
Nodding, she stands and helps me with the dishes. We give each other a look filled with concern when Cass’s voice, low and tense, carries in from the other room.
I glance toward the doorway, frowning as I catch the clipped tone of his words. He’s pacing in the living room, phone pressed to his ear, his free hand raking through his hair in that telltale sign of frustration.
“Derrick, I’ve told you,” Cass says, his voice louder now, the strain unmistakable. “That’s Cassidy’s birthday. I’m not missing it.”
Cassidy’s head jerks up, her small hands gripping the plate so tightly I worry it might crack. She looks at me with wide, questioning eyes, and I gently lay a hand on her shoulder, silently telling her it’s okay. But my stomach twists, knowing all too well how these conversations with Derrick tend to go.
“I don’t care how big of an opportunity it is,” Cass continues, his voice hardening. “She only gets a twelfth birthday once, Derrick.”
Cassidy’s face falls slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Is Dad going to miss my party?” she whispers, her voice small and uncertain.
I shake my head, forcing a reassuring smile. “He’s not going to miss it,” I say firmly, though my heart is already bracing for the possibility.