9. Adriano #2
“Think faster, Jellybean, or all the snow will melt before we get there.”
Her eyes widen in alarm, and she starts shoving things into her case at a rate of knots. “Okay, I’m done.”
I exhale quietly, resisting the instinct to simply repack the entire case myself and be done with it. “That goes,” I say, lifting two items from the pile and setting them aside.
“No,” she says immediately.
“Yes.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then reaches for something else entirely, shifting the argument instead of continuing it.
From the doorway, Nico leans against the frame, watching with open amusement. “You’re losing,” he says.
“I’m not losing.”
He laughs. “Yep, you are.”
I don’t respond to that because the distinction is irrelevant. “Why are you here, anyway? Aren’t I meant to be meeting you at your place?”
“Yeah, Izz sent me over.”
I’m only half listening as he speaks, still focused on the case in front of me.
Eventually, the suitcase is closed—not because she’s finished, but because I decide it is—and she allows it with the air of someone who intends to revisit the decision later.
“Shoes,” I say, nodding toward the pair she hasn’t put on yet.
She sighs, dramatic but compliant, and reaches for them.
I step back, my attention shifting as I reassess the room, the process, the time it’s taken to accomplish something that would usually require half the effort.
It shouldn’t require this much energy.
By the time we arrive at Nico and Isabella’s penthouse, the earlier friction has settled but not entirely disappeared.
The space is already alive with movement, voices carrying easily from the kitchen, the kind of controlled chaos that comes with Isabella in planning mode and Nico pretending he has no part in it.
Letty slips from my side the moment we step inside, drawn immediately toward the activity, her earlier resistance replaced by renewed energy.
I remove my coat slowly, my attention moving through the room automatically, noting who’s present, what’s in motion, what still needs to happen.
And then—
What isn’t.
It takes a second longer than it should to place it because it’s not an absence I was actively expecting.
Casey.
I don’t see her. I take a step further into the space, letting my gaze pass over the seating area, the hallway, the open doors that would indicate someone arriving just ahead of us. Matteo is talking with Rossi and Elena by the window.
But Casey is nowhere to be seen.
“You made it,” Isabella says, turning toward me with a smile, before going on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”
“I don’t change my mind,” I reply. “I was trying to wrangle my child.”
Izz laughs. “Who won?”
I give her a raised brow. “Me, obviously.”
“Debatable,” Nico says from somewhere behind her, his arms sliding around her middle as he rests his chin on her shoulder. It’s a natural gesture, and I love it for him, but I do miss that easy intimacy with someone who is your person more than I thought I did.
I ignore his comment, my attention shifting briefly to Letty, who’s already explaining something with unnecessary detail to Matteo.
Then back.
Still not here.
“When will Casey be here?” I ask.
Isabella pauses just slightly before answering. “She won’t be coming.”
The words land cleanly, but the result is messy. A huge rush of disappointment hits me.
“She texted this morning,” she continues, her tone light but not careless. “She’s not feeling well. Said she didn’t want to risk passing anything on before the trip.”
That should be enough of an explanation. It isn’t.
“She said she might,” Letty adds quietly, not looking up from where she’s now kneeling on the floor again, reorganizing something else.
“She changed her mind,” Isabella says gently.
“She didn’t want to,” Letty replies, with the same quiet certainty as before.
I don’t respond immediately. When did Letty see Casey?
“When did she text you?” I ask.
“This morning,” Isabella says. “Early.”
Early. Before we left.
“She didn’t tell me,” I say. Strictly speaking, she doesn’t have to. She isn’t back at work until the new year, but I still don’t like knowing she was sick in my home and didn’t ask for help.
Nico glances at me. “Izzy told her to take the day and rest. She looked wiped yesterday.”
Wiped.
Another reasonable explanation.
Another one that doesn’t resolve the restless feeling in my stomach.
I exhale slowly, the earlier irritation shifting into something more defined.
Not concern.
Not yet.
Something closer to dissatisfaction with incomplete information. I need to see for myself that she’s okay. “I’ll meet you there,” I say.
Nico straightens slightly, his eyes widening. “You’re not coming with us?”
“I’ll follow later.”
Isabella watches me more closely this time. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I just want to check on her. She’s my employee after all.”
The answer comes easily.
Automatically.
It doesn’t stop me from reaching for my coat again. “If she’s unwell, she shouldn’t be alone,” I add.
It’s a reasonable explanation.
It’s also not the only one.
Nico studies me for a moment, then nods. “Alright. We’ll take Letty ahead.”
Letty looks up quickly. “You’re coming later?”
“Yes.”
That’s enough for her.
She nods, satisfied, already turning back to what she’s doing.
I don’t linger.
The decision has already been made. I kiss my daughter’s cheek and head out to check on my employee.