Page 108 of Rumor Has It

“What’s going on?” I ask.

All eyes shoot in our direction. Dillon speaks first.

“Miss Cavanaugh. She takes good care of Aria, but she isn’t her mother.”

I square off with Dillon. “That’s a big accusation. You’re sure of this how?”

“I have proof.” He holds an envelope out to me. “I’m her father.”

I unfold the paper inside. A DNA test. “How did you—”

“A napkin at lunchtime. I’m sorry, Miss Cavanaugh,” he has the decency to apologize to Cassidy. “I know you love her. I don’t mean to humiliate you. But Aria has the same birthmark on her neck as Kylie did. I saw it when you stripped a dirty shirt off her before giving her a bath, and today at the pool.”

Cassidy’s lips twist. She swallows, holding back tears, and puts the award down on a sideboard. The thunk it makes in the silent room sends shivers up my spine.

I can’t see her cry. Not now. Not when I’ve just broken the promise that we can be Aria’s parents before I’ve finished making it. Not when I have to deal with my dead wife upending the picture she painted of our life together for a second time, and even though I’ve tried to repair it, the glass is falling from the frame and about to shatter.

“I need you all to leave.” I hide my devastation behind stoicism.

“Isaiah, call your lawyer before—”

“Leave, Vespa!” My voice softens when I hear myself yell. I could’ve woken the baby. “You too, Cass.”

Pale, Cassidy’s rooted her feet to the carpet like an oak, not wanting me endure this alone.

“Go, chou. Go to sleep.” I point to the room where Aria is. “I’ll come find you.” I assure her everything will be okay only because I need to assure myself.

But I’m taking another thing she dreamed of from her.

Cassidy wordlessly rushes for the baby and my chest cleaves in two. Vespa goes in a huff. Monty takes his post outside the door.

“I want to know my child, Isaiah. I’m going to be a part of her life, whether you like it, or not.”

“I won’t stop you.” I gesture to the couch. “I never meant to keep you from her. Kylie didn’t say. She didn’t say anything at all. I didn’t know she was pregnant until it was too late.

“She didn’t tell you?” Dillon hitches his jeans and sits at the edge of the cushion.

I can’t relax either, taking the spot beside him. “No. She asked for a divorce. Was that so you could be… together?”

“I can’t answer that. Kylie hid her pregnancy from me for a long while. When she came clean, it wasn’t as much about us being a family, like the three of you got going now. But she said she wouldn’t keep the baby from me. That I was the father. I thought… I thought they were both…” killed remains unspoken. Dillon can’t finish the sentence. “Did she relapse?”

“No, uh, there weren’t any traces of drugs or alcohol in her system.” I initially thought the same. “She tore out of my house upset and, well, it doesn’t matter. Losing control of the car wasn’t Kylie’s fault. I guess a placental abruption is more common if a woman has had substance abuse issues?” I unfold my hands, uncertain. “According to the doctors, it would’ve happened regardless of where she was. It just happens to be the reason she lost control of the car.”

Dillon bites his lip, boring a hole in the floor, trying to process what I said.

I give him a minute. Grief rebounds when I least expect it.

A year later, I’m still processing. Still asking myself if things would’ve been different had I stopped her from getting in that car. It wasn’t the abruption that ended her life. Kylie’s injuries did. She was on life support when the doctor delivered Aria.

“How did you, ah…” Curiosity gets the best of me.

Dillon releases a harsh breath. “Kylie and I talked about my sobriety. I’m not one to push it on anyone. God has his own timeline, and The Almighty gave people free will to decide when they’re ready. But I told her once I stopped self-medicating, the good days eventually made up for the bad. They were bigger. Better. That I feel them in my soul.

“One night, she went out with whomever and came back in bad shape. We were supposed to take off early for the next tour stop. Her assistant called in a doctor.”

I nod. I know the kind. There are plenty of celebrities with medical contacts who’ll do anything in an emergency for the right amount of zeros.

“Anyhow,” Dillon hunches over. “I don’t know if nobody else gave a damn, or if Kylie kept everyone at arm’s length. She’d do that to me if I got too friendly. The motor coach was empty except for us while she waited in her bedroom for the doctor to come. It was too quiet, and it felt like a bad omen.

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