Page 19 of Rumor Has It

Isaiah laughs and holds his palm upward. “Sit closer to me. Tell me about all of your favorites on the menu and tell me why I have to try them.”

His request is so sweet.

I lightly grip his fingers and we slide to the center of the booth. Our thighs graze and, in the small quiet space, something clicks. We’re the groggy, happy people who sipped coffee together again.

Two hours later, the table is obscured by plates. Isaiah insisted we sample every thing I suggested.

“This is a lot of food to go to waste.” I clutch my stomach, leaning against the upholstered cushion.

“Let’s have them pack it up. That steak will go great with eggs. Actually, those grilled veggies might make a great omelet.”

I lift a brow. “Isaiah Roomer gets doggy bags?”

He puts his elbow on the table. “Would you hold it against me if I admitted I didn’t? You might have made me feel bad about being wasteful.”

“Second question. Who is reheating all of this?” My index finger wanders from plate to plate.

“Not the girl who has made it known she’s on vacation. I can assure you of that. Icouldattempt it… with your help.” He grimaces.

The drinks we’ve had with each course have gone to my head. I can’t contain the laughter that bursts out of me.

“That’s me doing my job.” I won’t wait on anyone.

“You could tell me what to do.” His breath moves past my ear.

“Does anyone?”

Isaiah stops to ponder. His brow pinches, making me curious if someone did. “No,” he responds.

“Well, I’m stuffed and I doubt I’ll be hungry again soon, but the leftovers give me something to eat for tomorrow. I agree. Let’s pack them up!”

“Are you planning to share any, or am I totally fending for myself?”

“When?”

“Breakfast.” He shrugs. “Dinner?”

“Because your personal chef is preparing your lunch?”

“Your Aunt Daveigh offered homemade fried chicken, and hell if I’m passing that up.”

My heart beats overtime. “You’re staying?”

“Cris, Jake, and I are making progress. Things are coming together quickly. None of us wants to break the momentum.”

“How long are you staying?”Did I squeal?I did not! Squealing is for groupies.“It’s Christmas. Don’t you have anyone to get home to?”

Isaiah studies an exposed spot of wood grain the dishes don’t cover. “I,uh… Kylie and I both had stage parents. Her dad was her manager, and she cut them both out of her life when they tried to go Brittany on her. My dad passed and my mom found a new pet project in the half brother she had during her second marriage.”

I take Isaiah’s answer to mean he and his mother aren’t close. The daughter of a quintuplet, I have a huge, involved family. Sometimes too involved. But four of the babies from my generation—me, Rhiannon, Gatlin and Gatlin’s cousin, Cadence—were all in the same grade in school. We grew up looking out for one another. I can’t imagine distrusting any of them.

A hollow spot opens up in my heart that Isaiah doesn’t have anyone to confide in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Ask a question of me I haven’t had to ask of you?” he says in sad surrender. “It’s harder for me to talk about myself when I’m surrounded by everything that’s you, Cass. Your life is far more interesting. I also doubt you want to spend any time with a guy who drones on about a dead wife.” Isaiah holds up an empty ring finger. “That’s not exactly the picture I want to paint for a beautiful girl on my first date since before Kylie and I got engaged. It’s me who is sorry. I was married, and I’m rusty at this.”

“You haven’t dated.” My jaw, hanging low, clops tight at his reply.

Isaiah’s right. I need to cut him more slack. While I’m excited to find out what makes him tick, I don’t particularly want to reminisce about past lovers. Except, because my last date ditched me for his ex, I can’t help comparing myself to Kylie and the “why me” has me wary.

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