Kelly
The sound of Harper's excitement in the house was infectious. Harper darted around the living room, her small suitcase rolling behind her as if it were a pet she couldn’t part with.
“Mommy, do they have unicorns in Italy?” she asked for the fifth time since breakfast.
I laughed, zipping up my own suitcase and placing it by the door.
“No unicorns, baby. But they have gelato, and I promise you’ll love it just as much.”
Her eyes widened. “What’s gelato?”
“It’s like ice cream,” Adrian chimed in from the kitchen. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his strong forearms as he brewed coffee. The sight of him so at ease in our home felt oddly comforting.
“Better than ice cream,” I corrected, grabbing Harper’s hand to stop her from unzipping her bag again.
“And no, you don’t need
