Page 65 of Rumor Has It

This is shock,I think.You haven’t eaten. You’re emotionally exhausted, and the man you’ve been sleeping with waltzed in on your pity party and lobbed a Hiroshima-sized bomb.

Oh, and unless the trustees vote otherwise, he’s planning to live here until his tour begins. Which means the clock has restarted on the misery I felt counting down to New Year’s.

I set my cup to the side, let my body go limp, close my eyes, and lay there with the stair tread pushing into my back.

The next thing I see is Rhiannon standing over me with a worried look on her upside-down face… Or maybe it’s me and she’s right side-up? All I know is Isaiah has turned my whole world topsy-turvy.

“Cass, are you okay?”

No, I’m not.

?????

“Your daughter is adorable.” Rhiannon gushes, holding her camera up to show Isaiah the images she’s taking of the baby on the LCD screen.

Isaiah returned twenty-four hours ago. The whole reason for the photo shoot is to capture Aria’s First Christmas. I waffle between finding his attempt to make it up to Aria sweet, and feeling like it adds to the lies.

After my meltdown on the stairs, Rhiannon dragged me to my room where Gracyn was scrubbing the shoe mark off of my wall. I couldn’t stomach their sympathy. I went and stood underneath the spray in the shower with hot tears running down my face until I shivered from the water turning cold. My older sister went home to spend New Year’s Day with her family. Rhiannon went back to bed and stayed another night.

As uncertain as I feel about Isaiah’s presence, I won’t correct anyone’s assumption that Aria belongs to Isaiah. My sisters understand I’m not ready to talk about why his presumed daughter was in Nashville while he celebrated the holidays here with our family. Although they’re somehow now aware of the nurse who broke her elbow. Like a jerk, I continue to let everyone assume Aria was sick at Christmastime. Whatever they read into it about Isaiah being a horrible, uncaring parent, I don’t care.

“Cassidy, look at these.” Isaiah waves me over from where I stand in the doorway, rubbing my arms and watching.

He’s been friendly and keeps a comfortable distance from me whenever we’re in the same room.

It’s Rhiannon’s ecstatic grin that makes me move. She’s an excellent photographer. Taking pictures of Isaiah Roomer’s daughter is a boon to her career. I can be happy for her and sad for me at the same time.

I curl my hand to shade the viewfinder and peek at the image my bestie is proudest of. Still too young to sit, Rhiannon propped Aria on some pillows. She made a headband from a holiday ribbon and tossed a festive blanket over the pillows that compliments the cream-colored sleeper the baby wears. Aria wore a red one this morning. It’s in the wash. Something to do with her suffering from reflux because of her immature digestive system and Isaiah not burping her well enough.

I had a front-row seat to my brother-in-law, Joe, learning how to manage my nephew’s needs as a newborn. He figured it out, though—having been a confirmed bachelor before becoming involved with Gracyn—we all had some laughs at his expense.

I’d tease Isaiah about his bumbling, but that’s not fair to either Isaiah or Aria. Embarrassed over baby puke, he admitted to Rhiannon he’s a complete novice at baby wrangling. I’ve noticed his hackles rise when Aria fusses. An odd reaction for an otherwise easy-going man who exudes confidence.

I’m also just beginning to feel human and getting a grip on my emotions. I don’t want Isaiah to misinterpret teasing for flirting and give him any false hope.

As if I weren’t lacking privacy when the B&B had normal guests, Vespa has decided Grandad’s office, the unused room to the right of mine, is perfect for her to conduct business. I’d tell her where to go, but I’ve done that once and look where it got me. Apparently the woman needs to keep an eye on me.

Wherever Isaiah goes in the house, Vespa follows. If she wasn’t so hands-off with the baby, it wouldn’t surprise me if she wiped his ass, too. Currently, she’s sitting in the opposite corner of the living room, glaring at me over her phone while furiously texting.

“It’s a nice picture.” I immediately wish I’d found a better compliment. It’s artsy and beautiful. One every parent would want on their mantle. But no one accuses me of sour grapes, so it must’ve come out okay.

“Let’s move the wingback beside the tree and get a few of you holding her, Isaiah.” Rhiannon suggests.

“I’m not really dressed for it.” He kneels to pick up the wiggling baby.

I speak out of turn. “Right. He needs his abs shirt.” Scarlet flames lick my neck. What prompted me to say that?

They laugh, so the flippant remark must appear sassy instead of cruel.

Isaiah catches my eye. “I do, don’t I? Next time,” he says.

Chapter Twenty-five

ISAIAH

“Make sure she’s snapped in good and tight,” Gatlin says about the bouncy seat I’ve just placed Aria in.

We’re in the bedroom of my suite. I buckle both sides, feeling a little weird when I tuck my finger between the fabric and the baby’s belly, making sure the belt isn’t too snug.

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