Becca.
Layla and I were dictating to the housekeeper what we needed bought and brought in for the children when James arrived at the door to my suite. He leaned on the doorframe, just watching. Alessandro was on a blanket on the floor, blowing bubbles and kicking his little legs in the air.
Dahlia was under a different, lighter blanket as I breastfed her.
“... Lightweight pacifiers, if you can find them,” Layla was saying. “Alessandro won’t take the heavier ones yet.”
“Of course, Miss Garcia,” the housekeeper, Giana, confirmed. “We can get anything you need.”
“Don’t forget about things you need for yourselves,” James called, and Giana turned around and gave a slight bow.
“Yes, I was just getting to that, signore. But they have been terribly concerned about the children,” Giana explained to him.