Page 61 of Rumor Has It

“This is my house. Move,” Cassidy spits.

The way Cass holds her own with my assistant makes my chests swell with pride.

“Vespa, I don’t think Isaiah really cares.”

“I could’ve sworn your job is to protect him?” my assistant barks.

“Hi Monty, how are you?” Cassidy asks sweetly.

The corners of my lips curl.

“Doin’ well, Miss Cavanaugh. Doing well. Yourself?”

“Aside from a splitting hangover, and the enormous cunt standing in front of me, I’m great. Thanks for asking.”

Monty lets out a throaty chuckle.

“Let her in,” I say loud enough for them to hear in the foyer.

Monty turns the knob, but Vespa attempts to block Cassidy’s way in. “The months I’ve spent keeping this a secret will be for naught.”

“Just move!” Cassidy shouts.

Aria’s limbs jump in the front carrier. My cheeks inflate like a puffer fish. Then Aria’s head lolls. The baby stays asleep. I blow out a breath, relaxing a fraction. It feels like a victory, but when I look up, nothing beats the sight of Cassidy standing in the threshold.

She’s a sight for sore eyes. A beautiful mess, wearing cranberry sweatpants and a short cream sweatshirt. She’s piled her blonde hair on her head in a loose bun. Soft locks fall out that my fingertips beg to touch. She’s pale from having too much to drink. I can tell right away the jackhammer in her head is no joke. Cassidy looks the way my insides have felt, torn up and fucked over.

I won’t fool myself into believing my leaving doesn’t play a role in her appearance. And I have no way of making her believe the only thing I’d change about her is that she felt better. Because Cassidy Cavanaugh is as real as real gets and she’s fucking gorgeous to me.

Vespa grits her teeth. “This is your funeral,” she says, shoving a printed NDA at me.

I could be a cocksucker and retort that my assistant can go make us some coffee. Except Vespa is right. She’s risked a lot for me and what I’m doing right now is tantamount to ruining her efforts. Plus, she wouldn’t know where to find Cassidy’s favorite mug.

Being an ass anyway, I go with, “Cool. There’s a Tom Ford in my luggage. Have it pressed. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Cassidy still stands stock still in the threshold. Her jaw on the floor, she jumps when Monty draws the door shut, giving us some privacy. “You… You have a baby,” she finally says, bewildered.

“This is Aria. She’s uh—I um, I don’t know a lot about her.” Which is lousy. “Butuh,she wasn’t happy on the plane. She cried until we touched down. Bellamy told me that was normal. Their ears and such.” I point to my own.

After we arrived at Gatlin’s house, the same doctor who examined me when I fell made a house call to check on the baby. I’d rather be safe than sorry. Or rather, sorrier than I am.

“I don’t know when she naps, but she’s been asleep for a while.” I toss the contract on the coffee table and keep fumbling with nonsensical details about the baby before getting the point. “Cassidy, there’s all this crap I need to tell you. Things I’ve wanted to say, but wasn’t sure how. Shit I figured out over Christmas. I’m a fool for not making you sign the NDA like Vespa wants. She says blindly trusting is my downfall. But it’s a catch twenty-two. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell you any of this unless I trusted you.”

“How old is she?” Cassidy tilts her head, asking quiet as a mouse.

“Six months… Almost seven.”

“Is her mother—”

“She passed away the day Aria was born.”

Cassidy’s mouth forms an “O” and she inhales sharply. “I’m so sorry.” She glances warily at the non-disclosure.

I think I’ve gotten it wrong. Our baggage is too much to lay on Cassidy and she is about to bolt. You could knock me over with a feather as she walks over to the desk for a pen before bending over and signing it.

“Sit.” She motions graciously, though her hand is shaking.

The contraption holding the baby makes sitting awkward. I pull up my pant legs and prop my butt on the couch. At the same time, Aria decides she’s had a long enough nap. She rubs her eyes and, mid-yawn, sticks her index finger in her mouth to suck on. Something I noticed her doing on the plane. I’m grateful for Aria’s inability to see me. It must appease her. She’s not crying.

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