Page 70 of Rockstar Daddy's Second Chance

“I ah… made a mess. I need to take a shower,” I admit with a grin.

“Oh. I understand.” I hear her soft laughter through the phone. “Goodnight, Cass. Dream of me.”

“Good night, beautiful. I’ll see you soon.”

The next morning, I feel better after sharing this sexy, intimate moment with Kendrick. There’s a clarity in my mind, a certainty about what comes next. The weight I’ve carried for years is lifting, piece by piece.

But I still have decisions to make.

I scroll through my contacts, my thumb hesitating over Emily’s name before I tap it. If anyone will understand the changes I’m making, it’s her.

“Cass!” Emily’s voice is warm and familiar. “What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be jet-setting or something?”

“Jet-setting’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” I say with a chuckle. “Listen, I need to talk to you about a few things.”

She immediately picks up on my serious tone. “What’s going on? Everything okay with Kendrick and Cassidy?”

“Yeah, they’re great. Better than great, actually. I’m just… reevaluating a lot of things.”

There’s a pause before Emily’s voice softens. “Big decisions, huh? Do they involve Derrick?”

I laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “He’s definitely on that list.”

“Good,” she says knowingly. “Derrick’s always been about the image, not the person. You need someone who gets who you are now, not who you were ten years ago.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m calling. I want you to take over. Be my manager.”

Emily sputters. “Me? Cass, are you serious? That’s a big job.”

“Exactly. You’re smart, you’ve got the skills, and you know me better than anyone. You went to school for this. Hell, you graduated top of your class. And let’s not forget, you’ve seen firsthand how Derrick operates. You could do this in your sleep.”

“Cass…” she trails off, uncertainty lacing her tone.

“I need someone I can trust,” I press on. “Someone who understands that my family comes first. Derrick never could, but you—you’re the only one who can help me balance this career and the life I want.”

She hesitates, but I hear her resolve softening. Finally, she exhales. “Alright,” she says, her voice steadier. “I’ll do it. But don’t come crying to me when I start bossing you around.”

I laugh, relief washing over me. “You’ve been bossing me around since we were kids, Em. I think I can handle it.”

“Okay, big shot. Let’s do this.”

“Thanks,” I say sincerely. “This means a lot to me.”

As the call ends, I feel the shift happening. It’s subtle but powerful. The house, the career, the life I’m building—everything is finally starting to align. And for once, I’m the one calling the shots.

The studio hums with energy as makeup artists and producers flit around, prepping me for my segment. I nod along to their chatter, but my thoughts are elsewhere—on Kendrick, Cassidy, and the life I want for us.

The host, a polished woman with a bright smile and a sharp wit, greets me warmly when I step onto the set. The cameras are rolling, the lights are glaring, and the audience claps as I take my seat. The interview starts off the same as always—how did I feel winning the award—questions about the tour, my latest album, and upcoming projects. I answer on autopilot, the rehearsed lines falling from my lips without a second thought.

Then, she changes the game.

“Cass,” she begins, leaning in slightly. “There’s been a lot of talk lately about your personal life. About a certain blonde woman and a little girl. Care to comment?”

I stiffen, straightening in my chair and giving her a wary look. I know where this is going.

The screen behind us lights up, showing a grainy video clip of Kendrick and me, young and carefree, backstage at one of my early shows. We’re laughing, her arm looped through mine, her head resting on my shoulder. Our chemistry is undeniable, even after all these years.

The host’s smile sharpens. “That was Kendrick Cash, wasn’t it? Your opening act back in the day. Is she the woman you’ve been seen with recently?”

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