I should have kicked them out the moment they walked in.
I should have locked the door, turned off the lights, and pretended I wasn't home. But no, I made the grave mistake of letting them get comfortable, and now I was paying the price.
Ciara was sprawled out on the couch like she had just moved in, Isabel was still holding my remote hostage, and the movie—if I could even call it that—was still playing at an unreasonably loud volume.
I rubbed my temples, exhaling slowly, trying to remember that violence was probably not the answer.
Probably.
And then, because she clearly hadn't done enough damage, Ciara turned to me with that look. The one that said she had an idea.
I did not like that look.
"Okay," she announced, stretching her arms dramatically. "Since Elena is out having her bachelorette party—"
I stiffened. "Don't remind me."
"—we should have our own party."
I blinked. "What?"