Isabelle’s POV
The scent of fresh roses reached me before I even opened the door.
I didn’t need to check the peephole. Only one person rang my doorbell three times in a row and brought a bouquet like she was visiting an old aunt instead of her younger sister.
I pulled the door open.
There she was. Amara. She had said she would be coming over and I was so overjoyed that I couldn’t wait for her to come over.
Wearing her signature oversized sunglasses, a sky-blue jumpsuit with her wild curls tucked under a patterned scarf, and carrying enough bags like she planned to move in for a week. My heart squeezed at the sight of her.
“You gonna make me stand here like I’m selling cookies?” she teased, already stepping inside.
“You’d make a terrible salesperson,” I muttered with a smile, pullin
