Page 69 of The Art of Ruin

“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.

10.Casey

I knew it was coming.That’s the part that makes it worse. A flare is never sudden, never entirely out of nowhere, but that doesn’t make it easier to manage when it finally settles in. The ache had started two days ago, halfway through Christmas lunch, a dull, familiar pressure low in my abdomen that I’d tried to ignore while enjoying some time with my friends Iris and Brianna.