He licks his lip as his gaze shifts to my chest.
Maybe this night can still be ours.
Chapter Four
The Isla Problem
Ingrid
Isla's high-pitched voice echoes through my room as I pry my tired eyes open.
“I'm thinking butternut squash,” she says. “Or possibly mint green.”
“What are you doing?” I groan. “And why are you in my room before my alarm clock has gone off?”
Isla motions to the woman over her shoulder.
“Who are you?” I squint my eyes in her direction. Why is everything so blurry this early?
The short-haired, brunette in a plum-colored blouse points to herself. “Me?”
“No,” I say, rolling my eyes, “the woman behind you.”
She glances over her shoulder.
“I meant you,” I quip as I rub a tired hand over my face. “Why are youbothin my room?”
Isla wiggles her shoulders excitedly. “We're picking nursery colors.”
“Yes, but why are you doing this inmyroom?” I question her.
“Because this is going to be the nursery,” Isla chirps as she shakes her head at me. “Duh.”
I rip my comforter off my legs before wailing, “Mom!” at the top of my lungs.
I just... I cannot believe I have to deal with Isla's bullshit for another summer. She's gone too far.Too. Far.
My feet pound down the stairs as I yell, “Mom!” again.
“In here!” she replies from the dining room.
“Mom,” I seethe, breathless.
“What's wrong, Ingrid?” Mom asks, exhaling.
“Isla just informed me that she will be turning my room into the nursery,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “That's not happening.”
“No,” Mom agrees. “We're just letting her think it is.”
“What? That makes no sense, Mom.”
Why do Jason and Jill always do this? Why do they let Isla bulldoze everyone all the time?
“It's the path of least objection,” Mom tuts.
“Resistance,” I sigh.
“I know what objection means, Ingrid.”
