22. Chapter Twenty-Two Adriana
Chapter Twenty-Two: Adriana
W e’d gotten away.
At least the babies and I had gotten away…but I didn’t know what had happened with Tristan and I felt sick to my stomach.
The lobby's marble floor was cool under my heels as we made our way to the front desk, the air rich with the scent of polished wood and subtle cologne. Carmen strolled ahead, her red hair a fiery contrast against the muted elegance of the hotel. The twins were nestled in their carriers, unfazed by the opulence that enveloped us.
"Two rooms," I told the concierge, my voice steady despite the adrenaline still fizzing in my veins from our swift departure from Delaware. "Adjoining."
“It’s six o’clock in the morning,” the concierge said.
“So what?” I asked.
The concierge blinked, taken aback by my bluntness. I didn't care. We needed rooms, and we needed them now.
"Of course, ma'am," he said, recovering quickly. "Let me see what we have available."
I drummed my fingers on the polished counter, impatience gnawing at me. Carmen placed a steadying hand on my arm.
"Relax, Ade," she murmured. "We're safe here."
I wasn't so sure, but I nodded anyway. The babies stirred, and I instinctively reached for them.
"Here we are," the concierge announced. "Two adjoining rooms on the fourth floor. Will that be suitable?"
"Perfect," Carmen answered before I could speak. She slid a credit card across the counter. "We'll take them."
Minutes later, we were in the elevator, the mirrored walls reflecting our exhausted faces. I looked away, focusing instead on the sleeping infants. They were so peaceful, unaware of the danger we'd left behind.
The elevator dinged softly, announcing our arrival on the fourth floor. As we stepped out, I led the way down the hallway, my eyes scanning the numbers until we found our rooms. The key cards clicked, green lights blinked in welcome, and the doors swung open into a world of quiet luxury.
"Wow," Carmen exhaled as she pushed past me. "This is not too shabby."
The suite was spacious, the decor tastefully modern with clean lines and earthy tones. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, relief momentarily loosening the tension in my shoulders.
"Look at this place," Carmen said, twirling around in the center of the living area. She dropped her purse onto a plush sofa, the sound muffled by the thick carpet beneath our feet.
I set Catherine's carrier down beside Matteo's, ensuring they were close but still within my line of sight. I walked over to the window, drawing back the heavy curtain to reveal the city awakening below us. The sun was just beginning to peek through the buildings, casting a golden hue across the skyline.
Then, reluctantly, I turned from the window and joined Carmen in the task at hand. We unpacked efficiently—her bag was still in her car, we’d stopped to get supplies for the twins at a pharmacy-–a silent understanding between us that this respite was temporary. But for now, at least, we could pretend we were just two sisters enjoying the luxuries of a fancy hotel, rather than fugitives caught in the crossfire of mafia warfare.
"Hey, look at this," Carmen said, pulling out a bottle of wine from her bag. “I took it to Delaware to toast and never opened it.”
“We should probably make some time to toast.”
“Definitely,” Carmen winked at me before stowing the bottle in the minibar. "Now, let's get these babies settled in. We've got a long day ahead of us."
As we worked, the unease that never quite left my chest eased ever so slightly. Here, in this serene setting, I could almost imagine a different life for us—a life without constant threats and hidden daggers. But those thoughts were dangerous, and I pushed them away. For now, we had comfort, safety, and each other. And that would have to be enough.
Carmen’s phone buzzed and Kieran’s name lit up the screen. My heart hammered in my chest. She checked the text and her expression softened. “They’re okay,” Carm said. “They’re…sorting everything out.”
I nodded, letting her certainty ground me as much as it could in this world of smoke and mirrors where our lives were always on the line. Taking a deep breath, I moved toward the twins, their soft coos and gurgles filling the otherwise silent room.
"Alright, my loves, let's get you both comfortable," I murmured, gently lifting the first baby from the plush hotel crib. With practiced hands, I undid the tiny diaper, grimacing playfully at the sight. "Well, that's one way to make your presence known."
Carmen chuckled beside me, her gaze fixed on the newborn with a tenderness that could melt the iciest of hearts. She reached over to hand me a fresh diaper, her fingers brushing mine—a simple touch, but it was enough to remind me that we weren't alone in this fight.
"Look at you, being all motherly," she teased, her smile genuine despite the situation we found ourselves in.
"Someone has to be," I shot back, my lips curving into an involuntary smile even as I focused on wrapping the new diaper around the squirming infant. "And don't think you're getting out of diaper duty, Carmen. You're up next with baby number two."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied, already rolling up her sleeves. Her movements were confident, yet gentle, as if each touch was a promise of protection—a vow that these children would grow up safe, no matter what we had to do.
As I watched Carmen coo over the Matteo, changing him with a skill that belied her tough exterior, I realized that there was strength in the softness of our actions. Here, away from the cutthroat world of The Callahan Legacy, we found solace in the simple act of caring for two innocent lives. And for a fleeting moment, the weight of our reality seemed just a little bit lighter.
An hour or two later, Carmen flopped onto the plush hotel bed, the mattress surrendering to her weight with a luxurious sigh. The room, a symphony of fine linens and soft lighting, seemed to envelop us in an embrace far removed from the turmoil we'd fled. I lingered by the window, watching the city awaken below, its early morning haze a shroud over the chaos of our lives.
"Hey, Ade," Carmen called out, her voice a lifeline pulling me back from the edge of my thoughts. "You think they'd mind if I raided the mini-bar? I could really use a drink."
I turned from the window, the sight of her sprawled like a queen among the pillows almost enough to draw a laugh from me. Almost. "Let's wait a bit longer," I said, my words clipped by the sobering reminder of our situation. "We need clear heads for now. Have you even had breakfast?"
"Mimosas are breakfast, but I hear you," she mused, propping herself up on one elbow. "Sobriety does seem to be the theme of the day."
Her attempt at humor brushed against me, but the smile it sought was lost, adrift in the sea of unease that had become my constant companion. I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. She watched me, her green eyes sharp and discerning. It was a look that knew too much, saw too deeply, and I felt the dam inside me begin to crack.
"Sometimes, I wonder if we'll ever get out of this mess," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper as the fears I'd been holding at bay spilled forth. "Will we ever just...live? Without looking over our shoulders or questioning every shadow?"
Carmen's face softened, the firebrand businesswoman yielding to the sister who had held my hand through every scrape and heartache. "Babe," she said, reaching for my hand, "we've made it this far."
I looked at the sleeping twins, but shook my head. “I wouldn’t change them for anything. I already love them so much. But Carm, I keep thinking about that conversation we had when you told me about Dad’s plans to marry me off to Tristan. I could have…I should have ran. I slept with him instead.”
“I have problems with Tristan, but he is very handsome. Can’t blame you for that.”
I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. "It's not just about Tristan being handsome. I made a choice that night, and now..." I glanced at the cribs where Catherine and Matteo slept peacefully. "Now everything's so complicated."
Carmen squeezed my hand. "Hey, you can't beat yourself up over this. We all make choices, Ade. Some work out, some don't. But those babies? They're not a mistake."
"I know," I whispered, feeling tears prick at my eyes. "God, I know. I love them so much it terrifies me. But I'm scared for them too. What kind of life can we give them, mixed up in all this?"
“You’re the bravest, smartest person I know,” she replied. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re my sister and I love you. You’ll figure it out.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’ll go back to bullying you after this is all over.”
I laughed. I laughed. I wiped my eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. "I just wish I could go back and do things differently sometimes. Make smarter choices."
Carmen sat up and pulled me into a hug. "Hey, no use dwelling on what-ifs. We're here now, and we'll figure it out together. That's what family does."
I leaned into her embrace, drawing strength from her unwavering support. After a moment, I pulled back and managed a small smile. "You're right. We've made it this far."
"Damn straight," Carmen nodded. "And once we're back in Boston, we're going to have that drink and watch terrible movies until we can't see straight."
The thought of returning home, of finding some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos, brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. "I wasn't sure we'd ever make it back," I admitted softly.
Carmen's expression softened. "Don’t be silly, Ade. We always do.”
Maybe it was my imagination…but she didn’t sound sure.
And that scared me.