Isis, standing nearby, wiped her eyes with a dramatic sniff, clearly fighting back tears. “Okay, Adrian, let’s go before I start crying and ruin my setting powder.”
As Adrian began loading the luggage into the trunk of the SUV, I pulled Isis aside.
“We heard y’all last night,” I murmured, arms crossed, a teasing glint in my eyes.
Isis shrugged nonchalantly, as if she had absolutely no regrets. Leaning in closer, she whispered conspiratorially, “We heard y’all too. Y’all was motivating, so I said, let me put in work too!”
I tried to hold it in but snorted.
She grinned. “It’s nothing serious, girl. I just needed some dick… and hedelivered.”
I giggled. “You’re insane.”
“Yetcompletelysatisfied,” she shot back with a wink.
We shared one last heartfelt hug before making our way toward the front door.
“Merry Christmas, boo,” I said warmly, wrapping my arms around her.
“Merry Christmas, girl! And look… if you ever need fashion tips, discounts on flights, recommendations for champagne that costs more than your rent, or if y’all ever do a cabin sequel, countme in—but only if there’s a hot tub, a chef, and snow boots that don’t mess up my pedicure!”
I laughed. “Will do. And if you need any cooking tips that don’t involve smoke alarms, burnt edges, or calling DoorDash halfway through, I got you.”
“Duly noted! Ciao!” Isis blew me a kiss and strutted into the crisp winter air, moving as if a photographer was about to yell,Work it.
Bryce wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we leaned against the doorframe, watching them prepare to leave.
“Man, this place is about to besodamn peaceful now that they’re gone,” Bryce said, almost in relief.
I chuckled softly. “Yeah… but you can’t say they didn’t bring the humor. I actually enjoyed their chaotic company… once we all came to an understanding.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Just then, we heard the pathetic cough of an engine that sounded like it was struggling to breathe, a sound reminiscent of a sickly old man.
Adrian tried again.
Nothing.
Bryce shook his head in disappointment, adopting the role of a frustrated big brother. “I bet this fool ain’t check the antifreeze.”
We stepped outside, the brisk air biting at my cheeks as I wrapped myself in a thick, cozy blanket.
When Adrian finally swung the door open, Isis was inside the truck already going off.
“Adrian, I swear if I get stranded inanyzip code without at least two Starbucks, a Target within breathing distance, or where the Wi-Fi has only one bar, I’m filing emotional distress charges!”
Bryce exhaled deeply. “What’s wrong?”
Adrian, still focused on the dashboard, didn’t even look up. “It ain’t cranking. Sounds like the truck just took its last breath and gave it to Jesus."
Classic Adrian—always finding humor, even when a situation felt dire.
Bryce folded his arms, annoyance creeping into his voice. “Nigga, did you check the antifreeze?”
Adrian blinked, genuinely confused. “The what now?”
With an exasperated groan, Bryce instructed, “Pop the hood.”
