Page 77 of Rumor Has It

I lift my glass, taking another sip. Vespa has a certain way with backhanded compliments. Heaven forbid she thanks me for saving their asses.

“It’s been a whopper of a day, Vespa, and you’re right. Cassidy did us a solid this morning. Would you mind giving Aria her bottle before bedtime?”

His assistant is gone in a flash, muttering something about needing to confirm details about something with Monty, who isn’t even here. He and Steve—the second security guy—are off doing god knows what with Rhiannon. I’m hoping it’s playing a simple game of pool and drinks at the Grille.

Isaiah huffs a laugh, looking at me and shaking his head.

“Vespa keeps you in line.”

“I knew what I said would make her scarce. But is that the nicest thing you can say?” Isaiah’s grin returns.

“Pretty much.” I shrug. “Other than that I’d be happy to watch Aria while you are in North Carolina.”

“She’s my responsibility. I can’t ask that of you.” His shoulders fall.

“You didn’t ask. I volunteered. What will you do with Aria when you’re on tour?”

“I don’t have a plan yet.” Fidgety, he plucks at his lips. “Would you really be willing to watch her overnight?”

“Singing at Jake’s club is important to you. I don’t see why you have to give it up.”

Taking care of a baby is stressful under the best of circumstances. Day by day, I’ve watched Isaiah getting attached. He plans everything around a little girl, cramming as much as he can into the hours she’s gone. It’s obvious he regrets how he handled the holidays. When he’s tired or his hands are full, he hesitates to accept help with her. He’s wary of handing the baby over to anyone who wants to hold her. Not so much because he’s scared she’ll fuss, or that Aria isn’t safe with my family members. It’s a sense of responsibility.

I think he wants Aria to understand he isn’t as undependable as he was. I’m certain he’s come to love her. After a great deal of soul searching and trying to place myself in his shoes when we have clearly walked different paths, I’ve forgiven the broken man who kept his wife’s secret child from me.

?????

Vespa arranges for Isaiah’s band to stay at a hotel in town before they arrived for practice this week. She says it’s because there’s “nothing to do out here in the boonies.”

Call me crazy, but Vespa rented the banquet hall to rehearse in during the weekdays, which means no guests here for a gourmet meal except them, and, personally, I’ve never found an estate with the resources we have “boring.”

But I understand the obvious: Extra guest make it harder to hide the baby at the B&B.

The upside is I can bake muffins in my pajamas, something I’ve been doing lately that feels decadent.

After a long practice session last week, Isaiah came home, took one look at the unused pool, and decided we needed a dip. The heater’s been on ever since, and I take Aria out to swim whenever I like. Last weekend, Gatlin, Bellamy, and Chesney came over for a splash. Point: I’m also not concerned about wearing a swimsuit in front of anyone.

As grueling as the sessions are, Isaiah is happy. He enjoys having the band around. The group persuades him to perform at Sweet Caroline’s, which I think is great. He reluctantly agrees to a date before he’s supposed to head out on tour.

As the activity surrounding his travel schedule increases, Isaiah has become anxious, both in the excited sense of the word and apprehensive. He alternately dances, dipping Aria to make her squeal and singing her his songs, and then paces around the mansion, muttering to himself and covering his lips with his thumb—something I now recognize as a nervous habit.

“Relax!” I encourage, holding Aria on my hip. We’re standing on the granite front steps to wave goodbye to him. “I’m here. Rhi is here.” I toss my chin at my cousin.

“Don’t forget about Monty,” Isaiah says. Waves of uncertainty roll off of him. It’s adorable.

“I didn’t.” How could I? We’ve had this conversation verbatim for days. “She’ll be fine. You’ll miss your flight.”

“It’s a chartered plane. It can’t leave without us. Text Vespa if you have any trouble getting ahold of me.”

I say nothing to this. Vespa will have to pry Isaiah’s phone from his hands to get him on stage. What I do instead is something I’ve never done with an audience. I remove the pen Isaiah is chewing on from his mouth.

His scruff brushes my lips as I kiss him goodbye. I rub my fingers over his check. “The new beard is sexy. It’ll drive the girls wild.”

His arm wraps around my waist as he draws me closer. “Only one woman I want to drive wild. But thanks. I guess I’m keeping it now that I know it turns you on,” he whispers in my ear.

Squished between us. Aria lets out a sound that is part squeal, part groan, and part cry. We turn our face to her simultaneously and she’s chewing on her fingers with an enchanting smile and drool dripping off of her chin. Her four teeth are showing.

“Mmm… huh?Fingers are yummy,” Isaiah shifts from panty-melting country star into attentive single dad mode, making my ovaries ache.

---