Isadora
By the time we got back, the sun had gone down and the house was bustling with activities.
I kicked off my heels and dropped the shopping bags on my bed, staring at them for a second.
Mariana was wrong. I hated birthdays.
An hour later, I pulled my robe tighter and moved toward the mirror, touching up my already styled hair.
I was debating red lipstick, because apparently a stranger knew what was best for me, when the knock came.
Soft. Hesitant. I opened the door halfway.
Ivan stood there, leaning on the frame like he had nowhere better to be. His eyes landed on me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said back, pulling the door open fully. “I wasn't expecting you.”
“I know,” he said. “Figured I wouldn't have any other time besides now.”
I stepped aside. “Come in.”
He walked in slowly, glancing around. “Where’s Mariana?”
“Downstairs. Talking Rafael’s ears off, probably.”
“Poor guy.”
I smiled faintly. “What’s up?”
He turned to face me. “I just wanted a moment. Before everything starts.”
I leaned a
