Freddie was pacing his back garden, nearly through his entire pack of Silk Cut cigarettes. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, squinting from the sun. His underarms were damp, saturating the white tank top he was wearing.

"Freddie..." Joe Fanelli tried to get his friend's attention again, but this time he made sure to be a lot softer than before, and not joke again about how he was killing grass. "Why don't you cool off, take a shower? I can make you something for lunch while you're at it."

The rockstar threw his cigarette bud to the ground and stomped on it. "Not hungry. And, I still don't know why she can't just stay at Logan Mews, if she really has to be here."

Joe pushed his aviator sunglasses further up his nose, hoping it would hide his expression as best as possible. "She's eleven, Freddie, and likely scared shitless. We can't just stick her in the guest house with me, a creepy old man who she doesn't know from Adam."

Freddie scoffed, his humor manifesting for a moment. "If you're old, darling, I'm positively prehistoric."

Joe pressed his palms to his cheeks and tugged down, making a funny face. "Womp womp womp..."

"But it's fine to stick here in the house with me, right?" Freddie ignored his antics, circling back to the topic of Isabella all too quickly.

Joe muffled a sigh, as this same conversation had been ongoing for weeks. "Being right next to Mary's bedroom, it'll be good for her... all that female energy."

"Female energy my arse," Freddie finally snapped once again. "My life is ruined, and gone is any semblance of privacy I've carved for myself here. So please, could you, for the love of all things holy... go anywhere else but here?"

His next cigarette was already between his teeth.

"You said it," Joe replied more gratefully than he'd hoped he would sound, backing away.

He wanted to womp womp womp again in Freddie's direction, but didn't against his better judgment.

Any excuse to escape the wrath of Freddie lately, the American chef would take. As he opened the back door that led into the kitchen, the posh princess behind him raged:

"I can't light this bloody thing... FUCK IT!" The singer bellowed, and his unlit cigarette and now empty lighter to the ground.

Joe turned to Phoebe, who had spent the morning going in and out of Isabella's new bedroom, trying to make sure everything was perfect.

Unlike Freddie, Phoebe and Joe were excited to have a new guest in the house. Joe, because he thought the house could use another American, especially one from the east coast, and Phoebe, because he loved a challenge. He thought a little person in particular would be a welcomed change, but wasn't about to voice that to Freddie.

"Oh, I do hope he can pull himself together in time," Phoebe worried his lip, glancing over at the grandfather clock in the living room. "They should be here any minute."

"Think she'll be hungry? Tired?" Joe wondered aloud. "I haven't cooked for a kid in like, a year. And my nephews won't eat anything but peanut butter and fluff sandwiches. Not really sure what to expect here."

"Fluff?"

"It's like... like the inside of a marshmallow, but in spreadable form."

"She's almost twelve. I'd hope her taste is a bit more refined than... that," Phoebe scrunched his face, walking over to the couch to anxiously fix the pillows for the third time that day. "But seriously, I'm expecting the poor thing to pass out the moment she enters this home. I myself feel rather sick after a red eye."

In a twisted joke from the universe, before Joe could respond in agreement, there was a persistent buzzing at the intercom before a voice spoke. "Hello? Anyone? Peter? Joseph?" There was a discernable pause. "Freddie?"

It was Mary.

Phoebe hurried to the system, and pressed a round silver button. "Mary?"

"Why don't they just come inside-" Joe's eyes widened with concern.

"Please come outside now!" Mary pleaded frantically. "Bring water, a damp cloth and... my trench! It's hanging behind the piano room door!"

"On it!" answered Phoebe, who had at this point in his time with Freddie seen it all, turned on his heels, looking for a moment as if he suddenly forgot where the kitchen was.

His shoulder bumped into Joe's, who continued to stand there frozen in place. "Joe! Go get Freddie!"

A small crowd of people slowly gathered across the street, with Terry working hard to keep them as far away from the car as possible and in the dark about just who was causing Mary Austin to panic.

Mary ran back from the outdoor intercom to the paled child in the passenger seat. "Isabella, please, can you hear me?"

Isabella barely stirred, but stirred nonetheless. "Mmmm."

Mary used one hand to fan air in front of the girl's face the other to grab Isabella's. "That's a good girl! Keep your eyes closed if you must, but keep squeezing my hand as you are."

Suddenly, there were three men standing around Mary, peering wide-eyed into the car. Mary breathed a sigh of relief, and made room for Phoebe.

"She okay?" Joe questioned hesitantly.

Freddie was standing just behind Joe, peering over his shoulder and using him as a human-shield. Mary couldn't tell if Freddie was hiding from the crowd outside, or Isabella herself. Perhaps both.

"S-she undid her seatbelt and before we knew it s-she went slack," Mary stammered. It was clear that now that the guys were here, she was coming undone at the seams. "She f-feels hot."

Mary got up slowly, looking as if she'd just run a marathon. Freddie, despite the war going on inside of his head, stepped in front of Joe, and put an arm around her waist. He squeezed her hip lightly, brows still turned down into a slight scowl. Despite how much he deeply disagreed with Mary bringing Isabella to Garden Lodge, seeing Mary so stressed was enough to pull him out of his mood, if even for a few seconds.

"I must go back inside now, dear," Freddie muttered in Mary's ear.

"Do what you need to," Mary pulled his hand off her waist.

"Hello, Isabella," Phoebe said gently, kneeling on the pavement and taking up the space Mary left. "I'm Peter and I'm here to help you. Can you take some slow sips at this?"

Isabella nodded appreciatively, and began to drink the cool glass of water with more haste than even she herself expected.

"Take it easy, now," Phoebe laughed lightly. "Slowly, slowly. Do you feel like you could walk?"

"I don't know," Isabella admitted, eyes beginning to well up with tears. "I feel heavy. I am so sorry."

"There's absolutely no need for sorrys," Phoebe replied, pressing the cloth to Isabella's forehead. "I want you to keep this cold cloth on your head, okay? Would it be alright if I lifted you out of the car? You see, we... have a bit of a growing audience now. The sooner we get you into the house the better."

Isabella nodded, blinking slowly.

Don't pass out again, you're okay, you're okay... she had to literally beg herself as the thought of hordes of people staring at her made her all the more mortified. It was bad enough the members of her new household had all had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with her this way.

"Uh, Phoebe!" Joe stepped forward, handing over the dark green trench. "Coat... I'll go tell Terry to wrap things up over there."

Isabella didn't understand why they were trying to put a coat on her. But she wasn't about to object. They could have put ten on her and she would have thanked them for it at this point. She was mortified.

"Alright, Isabella. I know it's hot but I'm going to have to cover you with this coat, just until we get beyond that green door," Phoebe breathed, opening the coat up fully. "It's for your privacy. I'll take it off as soon as possible."

"Okay," Isabella squeaked, just wanting this all to be over. If someone told her she could have run out of the car and all the way to Heathrow airport to catch the next plane home, she would have done just that.

Isabella couldn't see anything, but could feel a pair of sturdy arms tuck themselves underneath her knees, and support her back as she was ever so gently lifted from the seat. The trench coat that covered most of her body smelled like fancy  perfume, the foreign scent something to focus on.

"Annnd we're in," Phoebe breathed, balancing her for a second with one arm to pull the coat off of her face. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I am so sor-"

"Uh uh uh," Phoebe tutted, shaking his head. "None of that. Let's get you inside and see if we can get you back onto your feet."

Mary was still there, this time holding the door open for Phoebe, but she'd gone completely quiet. Isabella couldn't read her tired face.

Instead, she simply stared up at the man as he led her up the walkway that led to the front door of Garden Lodge. She was too overwhelmed to look around her and truly take her surroundings in. Behind her, she could hear the muffled voices of Terry and the one with the American accent whose name she'd already forgotten. Phoebe had light brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and a mustache. He looked a bit like her own father, and the thought alone was enough for Isabella to chew on the inside of her cheek.

Isabella didn't give herself much time over the weeks to muse over what the house might look like. Had she thought about it, she guessed that it would be filled with reds and blacks and maybe have some electric guitars hung about the place. She imagined a grand, gold staircase that led to more rooms that resembled the life of a rockstar. Those rooms would be filled with fur coats and fancy studded sunglasses. They had to, right?

What Isabella saw instead upon entering the foyer, was a bright and airy home, with gorgeously ornate objects in every corner. The walls weren't red nor black, but were yellow. It looked like a mix of a perfectly curated museum room and a home all at once. A brown cat ran by Phoebe's feet. She couldn't believe her eyes, and to try to really take in the soft beauty of it all made her head whirl.

"Maybe we should bring her to the kitchen first?" Joe spoke up. "Get some food and more fluids in her, then let her get some rest? I'd say rest first... but, uh, the fainting."

"I think I should try to stand, now," Isabella spoke quietly, wishing Joe would have spoken directly to her. She may have been young, but she didn't need anyone making such decisions for her. She had already made them all do enough in such a small period of time. "I think the water helped."

"Water..." Mary muttered to herself, standing at the bottom of the stairwell.

She felt like an idiot for not bringing water for Isabella, on one of the hottest days of the year. In her head, she had already failed Isabella and did so before the girl could even walk through the door.

Freddie was five steps up the stairs, watching in complete silence. He was covered in sweat and a pair of black sunglasses hung from his tank top. The moment Isabella noticed his guarded eyes right on her, she felt dread once again seep into her core. His silence was very loud.

I knew it... she thought to herself. He doesn't want me here at all.

At least Isabella's shoes hit the dark hardwood floor, she felt a bit more grounded, and less like a baby.

"How does that feel?" Phoebe asked, hand still hovering underneath her elbow.

"I've got it," Isabella reassured. "Do you want me to take my shoes off? I don't know what happened."

Before anyone could respond, Freddie turned on his feet and went up the rest of the stairs. His hand smacked against the wooden railing twice as he leaned onto it, doing two steps at a time. Another cat, one that looked much different from the first one Isabella had seen, loyally followed his father to his bedroom.

"I- boys, if you could fix Isabella something to eat, I'll- I'll handle that..." Mary ran a hand through her blonde hair. "Isabella, I'll be back ever so quickly."

Isabella wanted to hide under the kitchen table, let alone eat at it. "Oh of course, take your time."

The moment Mary pulled open Freddie's double set of bedroom doors, she was met with a fuming man on the other side. There wasn't time for her to close the doors and give them privacy. Freddie was already staring her down, hands on the waistband of his brightly-colored short shorts:

"She isn't here for two bloody seconds and she's already caused a scene!"

"SHHHH!" Mary quickly closed the doors behind her. "She's been through enough, don't you think? Where is your compassion, Freddie? This isn't you!"

"A first-class flight," Freddie begins sarcastically, and reaches down to pick up Goliath. "Gets picked up at the airport by my driver, I'm sure is shown the scenic route that we take all of our guests down, and still, she faints at my doorstep. Knocks out as if she's headed straight to her own personal purgatory that stands in the form of my own home."

"She's just a child, Freddie," Mary's hands balled into fists. "Work with me, here."

"That's right. This isn't the place for children. Not now, not ever. And I can't work with you, because I never told you she could stay here. You did everything behind my back, and now it's already gone awry and you need me to save you."

"I thought..." Mary started, but stopped.

"You thought what?"

"Nothing." Mary's lip began to tremble.

"No, say it. We might as well lay it all out, there's no going back now. She's here, and she's in my kitchen."

"I thought we were partners," Mary began. "In our own way."

Freddie paused for a moment, and put the cat back down. He grabbed fists full of his damp hair and pulled for a second, making a noise that could qualify as nothing but complete and total frustration, exasperation, and desperation. He opened his brown eyes and then, in his next breath, delivered his next words thoughtfully:

"I love you, Mary. But I cannot match your energy with this. We are not her parents and we don't know what's good for her. She should be with her family, where she belongs."

"I never said we were her parents, Freddie," Mary stepped forward, taking Freddie's waning temper as an invitation to do so. "And I never said this was permanent. We can be something to her, even if it's for a short time. I want to make a difference. I never get to do anything important!"

Freddie sank to his super king-sized bed, half a dozen pillows softening his plunge. His slender fingers splayed across his face. "You know I really could have stopped you, Mary."

"But you didn't."

"But I didn't," Freddie groaned in defeat. "So please, if you will, go downstairs and do whatever you need to do. I will house her, pay for her necessities and whatever material objects she requires. Can't that be enough for you?"

"It is, Freddie," Mary lied.

"Then that's settled."

"You are my very best friend, and I do believe in the notion that you are the company you keep," Mary touched Freddie's tense arm gently. "That said, could you do us all just one favor tonight, and be present and engaged at the dinner table?"

"One favor."

"One favor," Mary repeated, feeling the slightest of weight lift from her shoulders. "I'm going back downstairs. In the meantime, do shower, will you? You smell like you've just done a four-hour show in the section of the Hyde Park ponds where geese frequent."

Freddie actually held back a laugh.

Back downstairs, Joe was putting a ham and cheese toastie together for Isabella. She had told him she'd eat anything, and so he simply got to work.

"While I'm sure you've heard lots and lots about me already in the car, I still should better introduce myself," Joe turned over his shoulder to flash a friendly grin at Isabella, who sat at the kitchen table with Phoebe. "I'm the head chef-"

"The only chef," Phoebe interrupted, pouring more water into Isabella's glass.

"I'm still the head chef at this wonderful establishment," Joe rolled his eyes, and flipped the sandwich over to toast the other side. "Here at the Mercury residence, we never eat candy or fattening meals. Only vegetables, vegetables, and more vegetables."

Isabella sipped at her water, and pointed to the pan. "Those vegetables smell really good."

"I like her!" Joe giggled, bringing the plate over to Isabella. "Eat, shower, then sleep. But the latter of which, I don't recommend you do for too long. Jet lag is a bitch."

Before Isabella could respond, Mary was back into the room. "Hey hey, language! She's eleven."

"When do you turn twelve?"

Isabella turned to Joe, her sandwich nearly at her lips. "October 27th."

"Almost twelve, then!" Joe defended, smirking at Mary. "That's gotta count for something."

Mary pinched the bridge of her nose, then turned to Isabella with a tired smile. "Is there anything else we can get for you right now? Are you feeling more yourself again?"

I haven't felt like myself since January, Isabella wanted to say.

"I'm all set, but thank you- this is great," Isabella referenced the sandwich in front of her. "You're all really nice."

The three adults around her quickly exchanged the same wary glance, before smiling back at Isabella.

It was Mary alone who led Isabella up to her room. When they got to the top of the stairs, Mary swiveled left and pointed towards a set of double doors at the end of a short hallway.

"That's Freddie's room. Not that I expect you would, but it's off limits unless one of the adults tells you otherwise."

Isabella gulped. "Got it. Do not enter."

"That's right," Mary squeezed Isabella's shoulder gently, trying to lighten things up. "And in the opposite direction, just on the right up here is my bedroom. Know you are welcome in here any time. If the door is shut, just knock and we'll go from there."

"Ok. Thanks, Mary." Isabella nodded, peering in a bit at Mary's bedroom.

Mary had a cream white headboard, and her duvet was a floral pattern with pinks and light blues. At the foot of the bed there was a flat-couch, where a spotted cat Isabella hadn't seen yet was perched. That was cat number three of the day.

Isabella could tell from her place in the doorway that the extra door in Mary's bedroom led to an en-suite bathroom. There was a vanity on the opposite wall from the bed with a silk bottom chair and dainty lightbulbs around the mirror. A few pieces of makeup, random bits of jewelry and hairpieces cluttered the top of the table. Despite the disorganization of the desk, she somehow made it all look so elegant, so feminine.

"You're welcome to go in and take a closer look," Mary interrupted the silence gently.

"That's okay," Isabella smiled a bit. "Where do Peter and Joe stay?"

"Peter is downstairs in the bedroom just off the piano room, I'll have him show you where it is later," Mary explained, guiding Isabella to the next bedroom over from hers. "And Joseph is on a property just off the back garden, we call it Logan Mews. It's essentially a guest house."

"Off the piano room... guest house," Isabella repeated. "Does anyone else live here?"

"You've met everyone who has. Some of Freddie's friends pop in and out, but never permanently."

Isabella was hoping that her questions made it seem like she cared, and was interested in learning the inner mechanisms of the house. The group of adults had already been through enough with her that day and, except one, didn't make her feel like a burden. Isabella felt as reserved as ever, but still knew she had to be polite. Asking basic questions was where she felt she could most comfortably handle a conversation.

"And this, Isabella, is where you'll be staying," Mary gestured Isabella to step into the next bedroom. "We've always used it as an office, or sometimes Freddie comes in here to write because he loves the view into the garden. See that magnolia tree? It's his favorite."

Isabella walked over to the large window, and peered outside at the tree with pink and white flowers. Many petals had already fallen to the ground with autumn approaching. "Wow, it's huge."

"So we moved some things around and added a bed," Mary pointed to the full bed in front of them, which had light pink blankets on it and lavender colored pillows. "Do you like pink and purple? If you don't, we can see that you get a new duvet as soon as possible. I can even take you out shopping and you can pick your bedding."

Isabella wanted to tell Mary that she was absolutely fine with what the room looked like, because after all, she wouldn't be here long and why change things for such a short period of time? But instead, she held her tongue and thanked the woman reassuringly:

"Yeah those colors are really nice, and the room is great!"

Isabella settled with turning her focus to a few picture frames on the wall with old art she could only assume cost more than her own life.

"Ah, wonderful. Sincerest apologies it's all quite adult in style. I tried to... get him to let us spruce up the room a bit, but was met with some resistance."

"I really don't mind!" Isabella cupped the back of her own neck, feeling herself grow stressed again at the thought of Freddie's rejection. "I appreciate you caring and the work you've put into this."

In reality, Isabella missed her Disney themed bedding in her old room, polaroid pictures all over the walls, dream-catcher that hung above her bed, and all the random stickers her parents let her put behind her door. This bedroom was like night and day compared to the one that burned. Most things now were.

"Before you shower and get a nap in, can we have a very quick chat?" Mary asked in almost a whisper, tone turning serious.

"S-sure."

The last time Isabella was in a bedroom with an adult and asked for a "quick chat" her life had been turned even further upside-down than she thought possible. She was suddenly afraid of whatever next words were going to come out of Mary's mouth as the woman shut the door and sat with Isabella on the edge of the new mattress.

"I understand all of this is a lot," Mary began, twiddling with her fingers as she spoke. "Even more so now, with you fainting in the car, which was not your fault. I cannot imagine how much of a change this is for you. You must be terrified."

"I- you all have been so nice and-."

Mary sighed. "Isabella, this is about you. The whole reason of bringing you here is so we can focus on you. Right now, I know that's hard because you don't know us, so we aren't going to rush you. But just know that you are our center focus right now. I'm not asking you to trust us right away, as I know we have to earn it, but know we're one hundred percent committed to you and getting you where you need to be."

Isabella's thoughts whirled around in her head. She still wanted to go home, but knew that wasn't an option. Despite the nurturing that had occurred in the kitchen, she was dead to the world tired, and these people were still strangers. Even the world outside her window was still one she had never known until now. It was all so foreign. 

"I still don't know what to say but thank you," Isabella admitted, looking down at her feet. "It's all just really new."

Mary's hand found Isabella's. "We completely understand that. And I want to sincerely apologize on behalf of Freddie. I am sure you heard his outburst earlier, and I want you to know that I acknowledge how inappropriate it was. We all do."

"Is there anything I can do to make him hate me less?" Isabella finally looked up at Mary again.

"Oh, Isabella," Mary's lips turned in a frown. "He most definitely does not hate you. I'd be willing to bet he's more afraid of you than you are of him."

Isabella's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really, but don't tell him I told you that..." Mary winked. "It'll take him some time to come around, and I don't know when that will be, but please trust me on this. But one thing I will promise you is I will have your back because I trust you, young lady. I knew your lovely mother very well, and I haven't a single doubt in the world that she raised you right. I wouldn't have you here if I thought differently."

Isabella looked up at the ceiling for a moment, hoping the tears wouldn't begin. Thankfully, they held off. Mary was satisfied when Isabella just gave a nod. She could see Mary's own eyes were a bit wet at the mentioning of her late mother.

We have something in common, Isabella thought.

"Now... there's your luggage in the corner. This week, we'll do a bit of clothes shopping as you'll find the fashion in London is quite different from Vermont," Mary chuckled. "For now, you can use the bathroom just across the hall to shower, it's bursting with toiletries thanks to Peter. Give me a shout if you need anything else! I'll knock around six thirty for you to come down for dinner."

"Sounds good, thanks. Is..."

"Yes, he'll be there. I'll be just downstairs now."

And with that, Mary exited the bedroom. Isabella looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside her new bed. It was already 2:30, which meant she didn't have a lot of time to sort herself out and get a power nap in.

Get it together, she thought to herself. Shower now, then sleep, then suitcase later.

As Isabella walked across the hallway to the biggest bathroom she had ever been in, she took a second to look at herself in the mirror. Her under eyes looked almost bruised, her hair was an absolute mess of curls and frizz, and her bottom lip was slightly swollen from worrying it so much.

She turned the faucet on and waited for it to turn as cold as possible before she splashed water on her face once, twice, three times.

From across the hallway, Freddie was standing at an angle where he could see the young girl in the mirror, observing herself with a frown and muttering to herself. He ignored his clean wet hair dripping onto his shoulders as he watched what he guessed was the young girl giving herself a pep talk.

"Everything alright?" Phoebe manifested himself with a whisper.

Phoebe knew exactly what Freddie was doing, and from the stairs he could see the look on Freddie's face as he watched their newest guest from afar. His boss' expression had been a mix of curiosity and sympathy.

"Fucking hell!" Freddie hissed, face turning back into the hardness it had been shaped to since Mary announced her plan those weeks ago. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry, sorry," Phoebe put his hands up gently. "You could just, talk to her, you know. Properly introduce yourself before dinner. She's very nice." 

"I know you didn't come all the way up here to tell me that," Freddie barked.

"Er, quite right. I came up to ask you if you wanted to give a statement to The Sun. They've just contacted Prenter about this morning's situation outside."

Freddie paused for a moment. He himself was sick of all of this anger he'd been feeling for weeks, but still couldn't get rid of it. 

"I suppose they'll run it with or without?"

"We can't be certain until they do." 

The door to Isabella's bathroom closed and Freddie began to head downstairs. Phoebe followed close behind.

"Oh Maryyy!" Freddie called. 

Sitting in the living room in her favorite reading chair, Mary put her book down onto her lap. "In here!"

Freddie plopped himself down on the sofa facing her, and dramatically crossed his hairy legs. His hands clasped together over his knee as Mary watched him carefully.

"Did you hear the good news, darling?"

"Uh, no?"

"My name will be in the headlines tomorrow morning, hot off the press!"

"Freddie, I don't have it in me to deal with your sarcasm," Mary leaned forward, her words having a bite to them. "We can refrain from giving them a quote and see what comes from it. We did our best to control the situation and protected her as much as we could, given the circumstances."

Freddie could not understand why Mary's unwavering support that he was used to getting had all but shifted to this new character in their lives. He felt jealous of an eleven year old, and loathed the feeling. 

"She is an irrelevant child who nobody in this entire country knows, except us," Freddie jeered. "And even then, we barely know her. It's not her who needs public protection!"

Suddenly, Joe appeared in the doorway, wiping his hand on his white and blue striped apron. "Hey, hey. I know she's showering but fucks sake, Freddie. I could hear you from the kitchen."

Freddie knew Joe was right, and he shouldn't have been so loud about Isabella. But he wasn't about to admit it.

Freddie leaned back towards Mary, now, and lowered his tone. "I... you cannot say you can't understand why I'm upset about this."

Mary stared at Freddie silently. Now that he was closer to her, he could see just how exhausted she looked. Her face was paled against her light yellow dress, and it washed her out in a way he had never seen that color do. Joe must have noticed too, as he chimed in from his spot in the doorway:

"By tomorrow afternoon, Princess Diana will be out in public doing something so kind and welcoming with strangers that the royal family certainly wouldn't approve of, and we'll be old news."

"I agree," Phoebe finally spoke. "Not a single person has details of what's going on here. It's not a newsworthy story."

"But they'll speculate, and rumors will fly." Freddie argued. "Someone's certain to have taken a photograph of Phoebe carrying a body covered in a trench coat into the house. Looking back, we should have just paraded her in, laid out a red carpet."

"Well, we can't change it now," Joe mused, flipping a stained kitchen towel over his shoulder. "What I can do, is whip up a nice dinner for us all to relax over and fill our stomachs before getting a nice, long, and much needed sleep. Mary, my friend, is there anything I can get you before dinner?"

"An espresso martini would be heavenly, Joseph. Some ice in it too, thank you."

"You got it, sweet stuff."

Freddie looked at Joe expectantly.

"What?" Joe shrugged.

"Well, aren't you going to ask if I want a drink?"

Joe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "No, because you've been so damn grouchy today. I'm sure kiddo can cut the tension you're putting into the air with a knife.

"Kiddo? Oh, so we have nicknames now?" Freddie groaned, standing up. "Leave it to you to get attached already- it's been four hours. 

"Make that two martinis," Peter sighed, flopping onto the couch where Freddie had been sitting. "Bringing up a child is hard work."

Joe sniggered. 

"I'm going outside for a ciggy before I spontaneously combust!" Freddie pushed past his chef-friend. "I rather hope I do." 

Phoebe watched Freddie thoughtfully as he exited the room. He had been the only one to see Freddie observe Isabella the way that he did moments earlier, even if it was for a very brief time. The assistant refused to believe his friend really felt this way, deep down, and if he did, he knew in his heart of hearts that it couldn't last for long.

How long, though, that was the question. Phoebe just hoped Isabella was as tough as he, Mary and Joe were counting on her to be as they weathered the strength of hurricane Freddie.