32. Casey
The first message arrives at five in the morning.
I’m sorry. I won’t ask you to answer. But when you’re ready, I’ll tell you everything.
I read it three times sitting cross-legged in Brianna’s guest room, the pale early spring light creeping slowly across the comforter while rain falls softly beyond the apartment windows.
Then I turn my phone over and stare at the ceiling for ten full minutes, trying not to miss him. It doesn’t work. Missing Adriano isn’t a subtle ache; it’s a throbbing pain that steals my breath. It settles into everything I do.
Coffee tastes wrong because nobody silently hands it to me exactly the way I like it anymore.
Falling asleep takes longer because there’s no warm, heavy body behind mine grounding me against the mattress.
Even stupid things hurt unexpectedly, like reaching for a blanket at night and remembering the way he used to automatically pull it higher around my shoulders, still half asleep without ever waking properly.
It’s awful because I still love him and, worse, because I know he loves me too.
It would be so easy to forget he lied, to just let him back in, but I know it would taint what we have to sweep this under the rug.
I also miss Letty. Her sleepy morning hugs, her hundred-mile-an-hour questions. I miss all of it.
Bri finds me in the kitchen an hour later, still wearing one of Adriano’s sweaters, holding my mug with both hands like it’s my emotional support blankie.
She takes one look at my face and sighs. “Oh, Casey.”
“What?”
“You’ve got the tragic romance stare again.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.” She opens the fridge. “You look like you’re about to stand dramatically in the rain outside his mansion.”
“It’s a brownstone.”
“See? You’re already defending him.”
I glare weakly into my mug. “I’m just correcting facts. That’s not defending him.”
Her head cocks, as does her eyebrow and she gives me the look. I poke my tongue out at her like a child. God, this is what I’ve become.
The problem is Bri isn’t entirely wrong.
Every time I replay the warehouse in my head, my anger tangles itself up with something softer before I can stop it.
The look on Adriano’s face when he saw me, so full of love and relief.
The panic in his voice on the phone, the way he stopped moving the second I stepped back from him, his face stricken.
He gave no arguments, made no demands, and didn’t try to defend himself. He just looked at me full of hurt.
And, God, that somehow made everything worse. “I know he loves me,” I say quietly.
Bri glances over immediately, a glass of orange juice in her hand. “Well. That sounds absolutely devastating. I can see why you ran from the gorgeous billionaire who loves you. You go, girl.”
“It is devastating, Bri. Love was never the problem. Trust is.”
If anything, Adriano loves too much. Too fiercely. Too instinctively. Like the people he cares about become stitched directly into his ribs and anyone threatening them threatens his ability to breathe.
Part of me understands that terrifyingly well now. But love without trust becomes something toxic eventually.
My phone lights up against the counter, and I grab for it.
Not a message this time.
A photo.
I blink.
Then immediately feel my chest cave inward a little.
It’s Letty sitting at the kitchen island wearing pajamas and a deeply unimpressed expression while Adriano cooks pancakes in the background looking devilishly handsome.
Underneath, he’s written:
Apparently, my pancakes aren’t as good as yours. Matteo took this picture against my will by the way.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
A second later, another message appears.
She says my dinosaur pancakes look like melted snowmen.
God. I press the heel of my hand briefly against my mouth because I suddenly miss them both so much I can physically feel the ache of it.
Bri notices instantly. “That bad?”
“You have no idea. I miss them so much, Bri.”
The worst part is I can see he’s trying. He’s giving me the space I asked for; he’s respecting my wishes.
That evening, another message arrives.
No pressure.
No demand.
Just:
I told Letty you were staying with a friend for a little while because grown-ups sometimes need time to sort things out properly. She asked if you still loved us. I told her yes.
The backs of my eyes sting with unshed tears as I read it.
Us.
Not me.
Like even now, even hurt and exhausted and heartbroken, Adriano still sees love as something shared instead of owned.
I stare at the message for a long time before finally typing back.
Tell her I miss her, and I’m still making her costume for World Book Day.
The reply comes instantly.
She’ll be very happy to hear that.
A pause as the bubbles jump as he types.
Then:
I miss you.
Emotion rises hard and sudden in my throat.
Because there he is again.
Not manipulating.
Not demanding.
Just honest.
And, somehow, honesty from Adriano feels more intimate now than any kiss we ever shared.
We’re sitting in the kitchen looking through take out menu’s when there is a knock at Bri’s door. She looks at me with a raised brow, and I shake my head. I know it isn’t Adriano because it’s Letty’s bedtime and he never misses it unless he has no choice.
“Well, hello, handsome.”
I rush to the door when I hear a familiar chuckle and see Matteo leaning up against the frame, smirking at my friend.
“Matteo?”
He looks up when he hears me and smiles widely, those mischievous dimples popping on his cheeks.
“Hey, gorgeous girl.”
“Holy shit, I need to go change my panties,” Bri says as she waves her hand in front of her face wildly and rushes into her room.
I smile for the first time in days as I watch the Matteo effect in real time. “I think you broke my friend.”
“Is she single?”
Planting my hands on my hips, I glare at Matteo. “Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?”
“Yes, she’s single, and no. You can’t go out with her.”
“Killjoy.”
“Why are you here, Matteo?”
He looks me over with a critical eye, and I can’t imagine what he sees, except maybe an unwashed, emotional disaster.
“Can I come in for a second?”
I open the door wider and he steps through.
“Coffee, water?” I offer, falling into the host role.
“No, I can’t stay. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Did Adi send you?”
Matteo shakes his head. “God no. He would kick my ass if he knew I was here.”
“Oh.”
I cross my arms, unreasonably disappointed that Adi is giving me the space I asked for and knowing how ridiculous that is. “I’m fine.”
“Really? Because Adi is a mess. He’s barely eating, he won’t come into work, he isn’t sleeping, and he fucking misses you.”
“I miss him too.” I hate knowing the man I love is hurting.
“Then come home, where you belong.”
“He lied, Matteo.”
He pushes his hands into his coat pockets and nods. “He did. But he did it because he was trying to protect you. He never wanted to hurt you in any way. He was fighting for his family and sometimes we fight dirty when someone comes for us.”
“But I’m not family.” That hurts to say, but it’s true.
“Firstly, fuck that. You’re absolutely family.
Secondly, he was fighting for ISM too. Jasper made false allegations about ISM to the FBI.
He got a friend of his who’s a judge to sign off on a raid.
He terrorized our staff and tried to ruin our reputation.
He fucked with us first, and nobody fucks with us. ”
I can feel the blood drain from my face as a wave of dizziness hits me.
“Oh shit, sit down.” Matteo guides me to a chair and helps me sit before he disappears and comes back with a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”
I take it and drink the cool water as I get control of my thoughts. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
Matteo cocks his head as he looks at me. “Let me ask you something? How do you feel now you know?”
“Awful. I let that man into your lives. He never would have come after you if it wasn’t for me.”
“Exactly. Adi never wanted you to feel that way. He loves you, Casey. You’ve been through enough and he never wanted to add to your burden.”
“Oh, God. I blamed him and he was trying to protect me.”
“Listen, I’m not saying he wasn’t a fucking moron because he was. He made mistakes, but they came from love, not manipulation. You make my brother happier than I’ve ever seen him, and you love my niece like she’s your own.”
A sob erupts, and Matteo hugs me gently as I cry, rubbing my back.
When I pull myself together, I know I have a lot of soul-searching to do. I thought I was the victim again, but that’s not true. “Thank you for telling me, Matteo.”
“Just think about what I said and, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell Adi I was here.”
“I won’t. I have some thinking to do, but maybe if he came over tomorrow, we could talk.”
Matteo winks. “You got it, gorgeous girl. I’ll work my magic.”
I close the door, leaning my head against it. Maybe our story isn’t over.
A day later, there’s a knock at Bri’s apartment door just after seven. I freeze immediately, my heart beating wildly. Because some stupid part of me already knows who it is. I’ve been on tenterhooks all day wondering if Matteo had done what he said.
Bri glances up from the couch. “You expecting someone?”
“Maybe.”
But my pulse is already racing.
She opens the door, then looks back at me slowly. “Um, you have a visitor,” she says.
And there he is.
Adriano stands in the hallway holding a paper bag from the bakery near the brownstone and looking so exhausted that my heart breaks.
There’s stubble roughening his jaw. Dark circles beneath his eyes. His coat hangs open slightly like he forgot halfway through putting it on.
His gaze finds me instantly and stays there. Like a starving man at a buffet, he takes in every detail.
God. My chest actually hurts.
“Hi,” he says quietly.
The roughness in his voice nearly undoes me on the spot.
Bri looks between us once before pointing a finger at me. “If either of you starts crying, I’m leaving. You know what, I’m leaving anyway.”
Then she disappears into her bedroom without another word.
The apartment goes quiet as we stand just watching each other.