Page 101 of Rumor Has It

It dawns on me I haven’t missed putting Aria to bed for the night since January. This is as much a milestone for Aria as it is a momentous occasion for me. When we give her the sibling Isaiah talks about, I’m assured the baby will be in capable hands. The sitter she’s most familiar with is a beefy bodyguard with a way with kids. It’s a wonder Monty doesn’t have a family of his own.

Isaiah kisses Aria’s soft blonde curls. “Glad you joined us, Dillon,” he keeps up the conversation.

“No place I’d rather be. I appreciate you including me for the meal. It’s not Miss Cavanaugh’s cooking, but it’ll do. I’ll get out of your hair soon and leave you to your company.”

He nods to my cousins, who are chatting on reclining loungers, finishing their food, and enjoying the view of the city.

“Stay as long as you want,” Isaiah offers.

“It’s a day off. I have things to see to.”

“I understand. Looking forward to my day off tomorrow. We’re taking the potato princess to the zoo.”

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy that.” Dillon rises and walks over to talk to Monty and Steve.

The water swirls and I part my legs, making room for Isaiah to step forward. “Where were we?” he asks, closing the space between us.

He places a soft kiss on my lips. Aria wriggles, detaching herself from his warm embrace and latching her arms around my neck.

“Mmumm umm. Mmumm umm.”The baby bats at Isaiah.

He tickles her, and she grips me like a monkey, cackling. Like her obstinance is her own little joke intended to make him jealous.

“Oh, that’s how it is?Mumum’syour favorite and not…” he stops himself. “She’s calling you momma, Cassidy,” he remarks wistfully.

I see the light in his eyes dim. He wants to hear Aria call him Daddy. I want that for him, too. I couldn’t stop anyone who spoke to Aria from referring to me as her mommy. But Isaiah and I thought she wouldn’t be with us much longer. We agreed that us using the words mommy or daddy for each other would confuse her. In a million years, I’d have never guessed hermmmswould turn into “mommy”.

“You’re allowed.” I grab him by the forearm. We’ve discussed this before. “She can’t call you Isaiah forever.” The older Aria gets, the more questions will arise.

He shakes his head. Rubs his thumb over his chin. Leans back in the water to float away.

“Sa!” she squeals with the sound she uses to draw his attention, beckoning him to take her swimming.

And because there’s nothing Isaiah won’t do for Aria, he returns to the pool edge.

Chapter Forty

CASSIDY

“I just realized there is no kitchen in this suite.” Bellamy saunters into the bedroom wearing a blue halter dress with feather accents. She holds the hem of the shimmery skirt up in one hand. The straps of her high heels are hooked in the fingers of her opposite hand.

After hearing him say in no uncertain terms I wasn’t cooking for anyone, I’m positive the reliance on room service was intentional on Isaiah’s part.

Getting flustered in the kitchen isn’t something I do. I can grab an extinguisher and put a grease fire out in no time flat. Cooking provides a pleasant distraction from whatever I have to dwell on. Although, the afternoon by the pool made me forget my worries for a short while.

I wipe my clammy hands on the fabric dressing table’s stool pad that I’m sitting on. My bare arms and my feet clad in open-toed stilettos are ice cold. The rest of me is an inferno. I hope I don’t arrive at the awards with massive pit stains from my body’s inability to regulate its temperature.

A modish woman with wavy brown hair has curled my hair and pinned it back. She’s putting the finishing touches on my makeup. Isaiah is with his stylist getting the royal treatment. Having someone in the suite grooming him in one room and me in another reminds me that tonight my Isaiah is alsotheIsaiah Roomer.

Isaiah and I haven’t seen one another since he gathered his tux and entered the second bedroom after we’d showered and dried off from swimming. It feels a little like keeping the bride from the groom before a wedding. Vespa, insisting that the evening has to go off without a hitch, flits back and forth between the rooms. Normally cool as a cucumber, she might actually break a sweat.

I’m glad Bellamy and Rhiannon are here for moral support. If they weren’t, I’m not sure what awards show decorum locusts Isaiah’s assistant might unleash. She’s so full of staunch advice for interacting with the press, she’s directing my every move.

“Blot.” The makeup artist pops a tissue between my lips. Then she continues, adding a second layer of lipstick.

I spy glimpses of myself in the mirror. The dramatic effect she’s created around my eyes, and the entire experience, makes getting ready for prom night look like kindergarten graduation.

I’m wearing a daring red A-line gown. It’s a sleeveless, one-shoulder design with a side ruffle. I’d wanted it in a deep blue, but got overruled by you-know-who. Dark colors aren’t in season and, on the arm of country’s hottest celebrity, I have to make a bold statement.

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