Page 117 of Rumor Has It

I want Aria back. How could I have told Isaiah we’d make it through if every instinct is yelling at me to chase down Steve and bring her to Kingsbrier?

We were safe there. We fell in love there. I immediately knew that’s where I wanted to raise our little girl when Isaiah said we should adopt her. That’s where our roots grew.

Aria and Chesney could’ve grown up to be as close as Rhiannon and I are. I’m mourning the loss of something imaginary, as if Rhiannon was the one who passed and not Jordy Weaver, and I lost my best friend.

Isaiah swivels our chairs, knocking our knees together. He pulls two tissues from a box in the center of the table. They’re like sandpaper when he wipes them over my cheeks and they disintegrate when they come in contact with my tears.

Looking at my red and puffy, tear-soaked face, he says, “I love you, chou” and he pulls me into his arms.

We hold on to one another as we break down in private. His strong shoulders shake and wracked sobs leave my body, even when I’m depleted of the energy to cry any more.

When we finally get up from the supple leather chairs that felt more like being seated on a bed of nails to leave the conference room, Monty is holding up the wall, having replaced Steve.

“Rhiannon is waiting in the car,” he informs us.

Isaiah nods at Monty to take the lead. We wind through the hotel’s utility access hallways, meant for employees only, and exit the building into a cement garage. My skin is clammy and the hot, humid air tempts me to pass out.

Monty opens the rear passenger door of a large SUV with blacked-out windows. Rhiannon is in the backseat. She opens her arms and I dive headlong inside, seeking the comfort of my kin.

I feel Isaiah slide in and the door clicks shut. Monty takes the driver’s seat.

On the highway, Isaiah fiddles with my left ring finger, stroking down toward my nail like he’s taking off a ring.

The cabin is silent except for our snuffling and the road noise. The only thing I can think of as I fall asleep is nothing I did for him or Aria was ever helpful. I’ve ruined Isaiah’s life.

When I awake, Rhiannon is looking out her window, stroking my hair. Isaiah has an elbow and his forehead resting on the opposite window. He’s holding his chin in his palm, staring into space. His other hand lies over mine. He’s still touching me, but it’s an empty connection. Physically, we’re sitting on the bench seat next to one another, but our minds are in different places.

The vineyard comes into view. We pass the tall trees that provide privacy for Uncle Cris and Aunt Daveigh’s Victorian. The access road to the winery and stables and what feels like miles of fencing before the break for the long driveway to the house I grew up in.

I’m shaking off the feeling that my parents’ single story ranch doesn’t feel like home when Monty turns the steering wheel and circles the driveway in front of the B&B. However, the stucco and dark-stained beams make me relapse.

My grandparents’ house wasn’t as much my home as it was a safe spot to lay my head.

We adjust as Monty takes the granite stairs into the mansion. He’s checking things out the same as he did after our dinner at the steakhouse in Houston.

Stretching, Rhiannon makes her goodbyes. She spent six hours on the road and wants to go relax and edit the pictures she took.

I thank my bestie for being there for me.

She abandons us inside the SUV, gets into her car, and drives away.

“All clear,” Monty says, returning. He lifts the tailgate. “I’ll bring your bags up to your room.”

Isaiah’s phone pings with a text from Will. The PR company released the statement. He hits the link and I read what I’ve already read over his shoulder.

I would like to begin by expressing my sincerest gratitude to Kylie’s fans for keeping her memory alive. She adored the spotlight and singing, and she adored you. I’d also like to thank country music listeners for their thoughts, prayers, and positivity as I’ve navigated this bumpy road.

Last year, Kylie and I had begun the process of separating. We decided to end our marriage the way it started, as friends. I grew up alongside my wife and our friendship will always hold a special place in my heart.

Unfortunately, I was not the only one Kylie left behind when she died. Since her passing, I’ve been raising Kylie’s child, waiting for the day she could be reunited with their father. Today is that day. I’m grateful for the time I spent caring for Kylie’s daughter and the opportunity I’ll have in the future to tell her about her mother.

I wish father and daughter nothing but the best and I intend to be here to help them in any way I can.

Grateful for your continued support,

—Isaiah Roomer

Seeing it again doesn’t make it any easier to accept. It might not be the complete truth, but at least what’s written underscores Isaiah’s reliability, and that he always tried to keep Kylie’s best interests at heart.

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